.you touched me slowly, like my skin was adelicacy you could only flavor with fingertips.
AbuseHer skin cracked morningBruises from slender secretsHe staggered after
Dress of Her DreamsRunning after midnight,she laced her skin with starlight.Adorned in her dreams.
Soundtrack of Our Mini RoadTripJason Aldean's "Flyover States" blast out the stereo, drivers only mildly annoyed.We get glares as we sing along, but we just smile, wave, and continue.Someone's bass is shaking our car, if we know the words we'll sing that too.Life is too short to waste being stressed, might as well as enjoy ourselves while we still can.Trips to Wal-Mart at who knows what hour, maybe we'll do a scavenger hunt next time.Talk is easy with those who genuinely care, With Pink! in the background saying we're fucking perfect.
Mama SaidMama promised she'd come home.I haven't seen her.Bruises and cuts covered her body.She says they are from work.(How do trays leave bruises on inner thighs?)Her breath sometimes smells foul like onions under your nose.She said she forgets to brush her teeth.(I watch her scrub her teeth when she gets home on late nights.)I asked Mama why she's gone so late.She said she works two jobs.(I'm not allowed to know the other one.)Men sometimes stay the night into the morning.She said they are friends from work.(Why does her bed squeak when they come over?)Sometimes I get a dollar if I'm good for my babysitter.She said they smell funny because of the food from work.(My babysitter only takes checks, maybe I should too.)Men always stare and nod and whistle at her.She says she knows them from work.(She walks faster when they see us, and always lets go of my hand.)Mama said she had to go to the doctor.She promised she'd come right home.(Mama said a lot of things.)
Love's WalkShe stared at the final stretch of road, the glare of the sun causing her to shield her eyes with her hand. Taking a deep breath, she continued onward. She'd made it this far, a few more miles or so could never hurt her. Dust was stirred as she moved forward in worn down sneakers, and she pulled out her Saint hat as her arms grew tired from holding her hand to her face. A dark blue truck rumbled past her before slowing, and finally stopping a few feet ahead of her. Unsure what to do, she just kept walking.A tall man dressed in Wranglers and a cowboy hat stepped out of the truck. His steps heavy because of the boots he wore. The girl gave him a look and small smile in greeting, figuring he needed something out of his truck, or something else entirely that had nothing to do with her."Do you need a ride ma'am? Not quite sure where your headed, but I can take ya 'till the end of the street." He offered, tipping his hat. The girl stopped walking to look at the man talking to her. It was o
Orbis TerrarumLight pleads my eyes to open,a tender kiss upon my forehead,guiding into a warm embrace.Water flows about my body,a soothing coolnessrelaxes aching bones.Music and laughter engulf me,as a pair of lips touch,then part ways. and repeat.My mind wonders the skies,leaving behind thought bubblesas an idea runs off, a path made.Sunset lays on my soft skinas a darkness shadows over light,blues and purples trade places with shades of red.I close my eyes, and feel the sun,tracing my body with fingertips,a gentle caress in goodbye.Then I begin again.
TogetherCome and follow me.It's okay to be afraid,I'll take care of you.I know how to love,children know what's important,I will not forget.You can count on me!Lay your head upon my lap,I'll sing you to sleep.Dream what dragons dream.Soaring, feathers ruffling,wings stretched, stroking clouds.I can protect you.Both of us are fierce, though young,We'll be family.
Small and PowerfulWatch the smallest birds,they fly through the hardest storms.Beautiful and strong
Eye of the StormI believed I could make the wind blow,and force the moon to shine at night,create rainbows just by thinking,and hold tea parties for fairies in July,I was the queen of my own graceful lands.Yet, I grew old and realized,I am the kind of girl who'd trip and fall,often for stepping on her own feet.My crown of diamond and goldnow a rusted piece of bronze,I lost my throne to treason, my kingdom to hate,I became the eye of a hurricane,loaded with mishaps I need to atone. I felt the soft touches of angels,and lost my own wings to demons who could crush stone.Felt the scorching tears run so often, I knew I must have hit bottom low.I had nothing holy, no one to call dear,but here I am, the starting point of my own storm.I felt fear, clung to shadows,encased my heart within marble walls,and threw the keys that can unlock my soul.So many chances I've lost with no love to seek,and so many people I turned my back to.I let the darkness gnaw through my bones.But the
PoppiesHe dreams of herand bleeds out -the secret life of poppiesand visions thathave lost their way;of cardinals thrashingin the branchesand the pricking of thumbslike last rites.He has forgotten himselfa thousand times -the soft glintof bone and skinbristling behind the thickpanelled doorswhere she gathersthe lines of his palmsand leans back intooblivion,waiting for a keyto find its fatein the wrong doorway.
slow your rollcan you explain the myst'ries,make the muddied waters clear?(take the blinders from mine eyes,pull the wadding from mine ears?)...if it's all the same to you,i would rather you didn't...not knowing,in all its glory,is gnosis.
The Flowers by Your HeadYour eyes are closed butI know you're still listening.Talking by your side, reminding you ofthings you may have forgotten.Like when we went to the parkand a random woman hugged you.You smiled though you don't like being touched.Or the time you pushed too hardand I fell off the swing. You were worried,but your head hurt more than my knees did.I can still here your laughwhen we found you couldn't cook andit was a good thing someone else made your lunch.And wen I close my eyesI can still feel the way you hugged me.Tight and warm. Strong but oh so tired.Now I understand why you swerved so hard to miss a plastic bag,pressing my head down with one hand.We hit a tree.I never had the chance to sign my cast.So I'll just hold onto your flag and our memoriesand water these flowers by your head.
Glass FlowersOnly she could lovea bouquet made of summer glassconsumed by the wild.
AdviceKennedy Runyan10/29/2012AL Prompt: If you could go back in time, what would you say to your younger self? Or, how would your younger self react to the older you?"Hi." She was much taller then me, but not by all that much. Her hair was short and a bright purple, and I had to wonder why she was talking to me at all. Still, I liked her hair color."Hi." I looked at her curiously, she was wearing camo pants and was sitting in the waiting room with me. My mom was being a chatty with someone else and was laughing, so I suppose it was alright to talk to her. "Why are you here?" It was good to see someone older then me had some problems too. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled, she had braces. I knew I'd need them too, and wondered what it felt like to have them."Sometimes I just need to talk to someone. You know, someone who isn't my mom, or my dad. Even my friends sometimes. It's just nice to talk to someone I can vent to." She pushed her hair behind her ear, and I did the same thing.
GivingShe was the girl who gave her soulReal flowers she gaveon birthdays and random occasions."Thank you, they smell lovely!" they exclaimedLetters written in inspirationwere mailed and sent"I feel so loved" they smiledA comforting shoulder,a hug and an ear"You're always there for me" they said.They were the ones that never gave back."These flowers are wilted and dead.If you loved me you would have gotten fake ones"But fake ones don't smell"This was written in pencil,It is fading now"Inspiration doesn't come with a pen"You can never be sad,count on you to be all smiles"Happy people get sad tooWhen she was alone, thoughts to herself,she hung her headand I cried.
RebornAlfred couldn’t keep the excited grin off of his face as he was led around the air field. There was nothing different about this one to any other air field and yet it was still special because a plane of his own, his very first one, was sitting out here waiting for him.Somewhere.Finally his guide stopped in front of an f-35. The beautiful gray plane sparkled in the sunlight, a cloud drifted by and made the sunlight bounce off of the canopy and Alfred swore it looked like the plane was smiling at him.“Well, here’s your jet, Captain Jones. Isn’t he beautiful?” His guide said. Alfred turned to him with a confused expression.“He?” he asked.“Yep,” The guide then started to climb up the side of the jet and opened the canopy. “Come here, I’ll show you what I mean,” Alfred followed him up and peered into the cockpit. The inside was cleaned spotless and everything seemed to shine. The guild reached in and gently tapped
Ash of 100 Cats Ch. 6He was too busy rough housing with Matthew in the back of the car to notice how his father’s fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel as if he was imagining it to be someone he loathed and was trying to choke the life out of them. His knuckles were painted white and his dull finger nails were pressing into the leather with such force that it would, without a doubt, forever leave a mark. Neither brother was wearing their seatbelts, total faith that nothing bad would happen prompted them to be fearless as the thunder storm raged outside.They were having too much fun putting each other in headlocks and digging their knuckles into the other’s head, laughing too hard, too loudly, to hear their mother insist that their father pull over and wait out the storm. He didn't listen and continued to drive down the highway.It would only take two more hours of driving before they arrived back home. Matthew had just put Alfred into another headlock when all of a sudden a sick fe
Your Holy FruitYour Holy FruitLike the life of a tree, those given to TheeObverabundant, our harvest in poundsVexations we flee, and planted yet freeExpectant of nothing, cast crownsJammed as a paste, we fill up this wasteOn the earth, we are all told to "take"Yes, it looks great, though so tempting, its fakePerishable but ok to tasteEver around, this other fruit aboundsAdopted in so many bushelsCarefully look, in your life always foundExcept Firefruit, that One that prunes Cush cellsPay close attention and take intervention.Away with the hunger insideTake and give mention, to the One past Ascension,Inside us this Fire still abides.Eat of the Life, The Truth put in wordsNot rotten, as lies of this Gourd.Carry no strife, to keep is absurdEnjoy and just wait on the LordKeep His Commands and grow in His strengthIn this, the pain w
Confidencemake me your canvaspaint me with your fingertipscolor me pretty