Politics

But what was I doing before I sat at this table

Because all I’m aware of is how my legs tremble

They’ve born such a terrible weight.

And all around me these voices scream and fight,

Declaring one another to be hypocrites and liars,

Meanwhile I watch the dying funeral pyre.

When they finally grow weary and quiet

I ask them where we are and what’s the point of it,

And no one is really sure.

We’ve been fed something that doesn’t fill,

Just something to chew and mask the bile,

And each night we took it for communion

It helps us forget what’s become of this Union.

I watched one man wipe his face and cross the room

He looked out the cracked window at the prevalent gloom

And declared that something must be done.

And now that we’re sober because the wine is all gone,

We finally agreed.

Aesop’s Parable of the Dog and the Wolf

And suddenly I thought of this past year,

Of all I had lost

Because of a moment of weakness

One late night

And because I decided to keep

The dignity

Of owning that decision

Of carrying

The burden of freedom forever.

The bitch

Chewed the collar off her raw neck,

Ran off,

And danced with the starving wolf.

Clockwork

You were a perfect clock,

Attuned to the sun and moon.

Each night I would ask you,

“Wake me up at six,”

And you would

With a kiss,

A hug,

A brush of my hair.

And when you disappeared,

So dependent on you was I,

I stopped waking up.

Untitled (Because You Don’t Have to Know)

I cried in bed last night

Nikki asked me about it today, she saw the pictures online.

Everyone did.

That’s why the Board of Human Equalization posts them,

They think they can save us from our nightmares

And suicides

If the world only saw our pain.

Randomly taken pictures of us while we lay in bed,

On the internet to see.

The Community will keep you safe with their judgment.

Still, my mom made a flawless noose,

(Nikki’s did, too)

Don next door jumped from his roof,

(Emma did, too)

And as the Community tries to save me,

I want to smash that camera above my bed

And proclaim freedom to feel

To have a moment of weakness

And to ask God alone for help.

The eyes that always see,

The mouths that always question,

Are only trying to avoid

What their heads always think

What their hearts always feel

Because this Community

Is dying to help.

A word of warning to those who interact with writers:

Anything you say, do, or are can potentially become immortal in their work.

Proceed with caution.

Prologue to “The Thrift Shop Witch” (Working Title), First Draft

Keep reading

“Phone Calls”

Keep reading

She stood up and offered him her hand, though she realized how useless it was for a 130 pound girl to try and help a 530 pound bear, she hoped the gesture was enough.  With a warm smile, he gratefully accepted her hand, thought how fragile and odd her skin felt, and lifted himself up.  As he towered over her, he thought how small she looked, how very little ground those tiny feet could cover, and with a sigh he dropped to all fours.

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever ridden a bear before?”  Evie shook her head, but grabbed onto the straps of Bernshaw’s overalls and hauled herself onto his back regardless.  She gripped his shoulders tightly with her thighs, bracing herself for his gait, but he very cautiously walked across the room, to Evie’s dropped rifle.  With a deep respect, he picked up the weapon that now seemed impotent in his massive paws, and passed it back to her.

“You’ll be needin’ that,” he said solemnly.

“So I’ll be shooting down monsters while riding a bear.  Sounds like some teenager’s pin-up dream.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, hun,” Felicity remarked, smirking.

I’m proofreading my brother’s research paper for him… and he writes like how politicians speak.  Grandiose, over exaggerated, and full of buzzwords and BS without sources.

For a story I’m writing, I’m crafting a character named Felicity.  She’s the spirit of a fox haunting her tail that was turned into a key chain.  I liked her, but then I decided to make her a sassy southern belle kind of gal, and now I adore her.

Bless her (dead) heart.