To be a contradiction is to be overflowing; it is to listen and to contemplate; it is to consider and change; I am only human–my mind wasn’t built to be static. Advertisements
There blooms a fiery flower under your forehead today. It singes my lips.
The smell of lilacs drowning in the bodies of bumblebees; those wings will beat in my mind for eternity, and nothing will ever be like it.
I slip away from the empty flower beds to the back of the church, dropping a couple of crumpled white roses speckled with red blood.
Madness can grow from boredom. Shut tight, and that is when the wallpaper starts to move. Constrained in dresses and rhymes, and that is when the purple cat grins. Lock her in a house with no hallways, and that is when she takes an axe.
Purple flowers come out of the green on either side of the dusty, narrow path. I stop, heaving a sigh, wiping sweat from my forehead, only to feel granules of dirt smear across my skin. They leave a stinging sensation—dirt, sweat, and a peeling sunburn. I close my eyes against the heat, and breathe in […]
Soaked petals blow in the fan; one petal moves, one petal falls, curved green leaves ache their spines. Glass shatters—streaks along the floor, I grind my knees in it, I stay quiet, I watch the feet. Tick tock, the heels stab the floor, bony fingers, black-haired knuckles grasp thighs, I am tickled with tulle and […]