Don't Do Flowers"I bought you a rose" he saidand it was finished before it began.See,I don't do flowers.I don't do flowers, like I don't pay for sky,or sunlight,as if to buy some dirt.To what extentcan't we be bothered?To use what we have -To say what we mean -But we can't.So we let something dyingrepresent loveand I can't standidly by;so I don't do flowers;I'll do it myself.
.my cat has ninelives and i fear he willspend each one doingthe same fuckingthingstaring out of thewindow at the birds onthe fence, when he could beout there, sinking histeeth in
The Unemployed Assassin“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, Jim?”I crossed my legs in an attempt to get comfortable, but it only made my sitting position worse. The fancy couches in Dr. Valencia’s office had less support than a deadbeat dad and she probably only chose them because it made the room seem like a still from a movie. It might have worked if I was a pretty young lady lounging about, but it only made me more uncomfortable.“Well, I’m going to go to jail if I’m not here every week,” I replied. “That was the bargain.”“That’s not really what I was asking about.” She knew the truth, but just wanted to get some sick satisfaction out of hearing me say it.I kept my mouth shut and let her look like she was anticipating something for five minutes. If I could use up the whole hour doing that, I was set.She tapped her fingers on her ledger. “You know, Jim, we’re having the
MizpahThe crying windbrings adeluge:lostand blurred atthe edges,youbecomeawhisper.
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterfliesuntil she realized their beautyrubbed off on her fingers;but she will always be loving youwith those digits.20 years from nowwhen even the love on her armsis unrecognizable.
SpeechlessWriting is my passion.It's what I do.It's who I am.I can weave words easily, without thinking.But when I think of you,I'mspeechless.
sometimes i forget how to breatheAn overwhelming need to shut myselfunderwater and drink in my inevitabledeath. Crawl out to shore and gaspout apologies while tending to cut knees,but leave the internal damage. Find somethingto tether me to the ground, clutch itbetween pruned and shaking hands.Water drips off my nose, down my arms,plinks into the puddle in my lungs.I am drowning on dry land, chokingon the irresistible thought of you.
knees and toeshere is a short list of things i know:Cody says he hates David, but he really doesn’t,i will never wear a coat until the first of November,i hate myself in the spring,the sun is 92, 960, 000 miles from earth and i’m pretty surethat number is rounded to look prettyor god must be ocd.it’s a miracle, i’m learning to look you in the eye.make a wish, make a wish, any wishi’m plucking out my eyelashes, i’m learningto give up beauty for a shot at happiness.i say too much too quickly without getting outall of the consonants and my speech is craggyand rocky like an abandoned trail in the Appalachians,overgrown and the road not taken.my fingernails are ragged and bitten to the shorteststub i could stand. i don’t want to hurt you,i don’t want to hurt myself, my fingernails cannothurt you but i can still hurt myself. one day i’llbe brave enough to leave scratch marks on your skinin angry red lines, one day i’ll be some