Annie111 Describe something you've seen, or someone you know.

He looks less scuffed that usual, maybe that's a new shirt. I feel determination in the air, and it makes me laugh because at the same time, he is so worried about the future; it makes his laugh halting where it always seemed to be carefree. Those clumsy hands, those tickling, wandering hands, are soft and warm. I know how he thinks; I know how he sees the world. He plays the same tricks I do; he's a sly one. While I'm sitting next to him, I feel his breath push into mine. A rise. A fall. We're having a conversation with our lungs. The streetlights slice over the wet pavement, over his eyes. I feel like I could teach him so much about the world, about what it's like to be on the other end of things. I think he would understand.
ClairE There was a wall. It did not look important. It was built of uncut rocks roughly mortared. An adult could look right over it, and even a child could climb it. Where it crossed the roadway, instead of having a gate it degenerated into mere geometry, a line, an idea of boundary. But the idea was real. It was important. For seven generations there had been nothing in the world more important than this wall.
Like all walls it was ambiguous, two_faced. What was inside it and what was outside it depended on which side of it you were on.

opening to The Dispossessed (Ursula_Leguin)
paste! square, hairy and ruptured 011218
paste! biblical, fermented and yellow 011218
god thick, rubbery, with thousands of black handles along the thorax. two red/blue/green eyes the size of hubcaps.
a fist at the end of a thin wire protrudes from the air behind it. dog breath and pringles and ghosts emanate
from the porous, gummy membrane that covers where the mouth once sat.
freakizh long and tasty. 020512
Mahayana in NY gorgeous & so insanely my life 020512
User24 such potential
in a beige rectangle
such power
in this inanimate object
the words are there
in combinations
the keys allow
distant conversations
opinions, valid and false
discussions, thoughtful, inane
the keyboard provides access
the typist brings life
Fire&Roses Sprawled and seemingly asleep. Golden eyes closed into thin black lines. Soft fur splayed over the white of the keyboard... the flick of her tail when
I make a keystroke to close to her sleeping form is the only sign of life. She is beautiful... a sweet yet vicious little force. A vibrant ball of fur. She raises her head to nuzzle my hand and my fingers slip... I should have named her Typo, but I suppose Jinx is close enough.
ferret orios smashed into the floor, two pillows thrown about the room, a plastic bag hiding some old dirty clothes in the corner with the lamp, closet door half open, oh, did i mention that the bed takes up half the room? and another fourth is taken up by dressers and tv and such, socks thrown randomely all over, pieces of yarn, DUST, a weight bench, some marbles, some scissors and other such items, and pet hair.

and to think, my room was spotless 2 days ago
ashmanzhou look in the cold mirrored soul

she wears a long jacket to cover it

you see not her eyes

she brings down a cap to cover them

to cover her face oh ruined so

her hands all twisted broken and gloved

to hide what lies inside

doth thou seest what i see
or art thou blind
i despise thee in thy glory
i hate thee and hate thy selfsame sorrow
pity me not
as i do not
Spare Change Remembered best smiling, or standing too close. Laughter lives too in my memories' ghosts. The feel of your fingers, the look of your face, aching remembrances that time can't erase. The things that we talked of all blur together, but your voice, gentle and firm, I remember. Pale, too soft skin, and dark curly hair, the smell of your body lingers in the air. A joyful sort of cynicism, but I can relate. It seems that our regrets have faded too late. An artless sort of humor, witty and dry, deep mourning eyes, ready to cry. I remember too little, or I remember too much, I miss you, I love you... and such. 031019
zeke a great bowl below filled with mist, moon chilling it's tops and diffusing into it's depths. no shapes survive there, only the slow anarchy of light through airy water drifting on captured sighs of mountain breath. wind, escaping the wildness outside the bowl, comes to drive the slow convection dance. some spills and scatters into deeper clearer air outside. descending, i pass a thousand thresholds and it closes around me in silence. 040627
zeke oily refraction clings to stems poking through grey black water making tiny taughtness between many stalks that reflect not quite midday sun on waves of 5/8 time with accents on 3 an 5. 040701
pete I was walking home from work last night. Canada was technically over as it was a bit after midnight. My path home, an hour walk in total, takes me down Sussex Drive, along Wellington infront of Parliment, and down Bank St for what seems like forever.

I was on Parliment Hill. Small groups of police where dispersed along the sidewalks and road, as the roads in this part of town were closed for the celebrations. Groups of drunk teenagers could be seen sitting beneath lampposts, in doorways, on the curbs, and along the fence that encloses Parliment Hill. Garbage was everywhere. Broken bottles, paper, small Canadian flags, and a number of other things. A few city workers were out trying to pick up the litter before the morning rush, and it seemed like they would be out all night. A few homeless men walked up and down the street with bags that they dutifully filled with any unbroken beer bottles they could find. A drunk girl ran past me screaming out 'Selena! Selena!' and soon found her self in Selena's arms, crying about how she thought that she had lost her. I passed now infront of the Parliment Buildings. On my way to work earlier in the day the ten minute walk from the east building to the west building took over a half an hour, but again the streets were now mostly clear. The Canadian flag flew proudly from the Peace Tower. Earlier in the day it was the Govenor-General's standard, which I found rather amusing. I still remember how this man sang O Canada in English only, right there on the Hill, ampliphied so the hundreds of people packed on the lawn, the sidewalks, and Wellington street could here it. I remember the screams that people yelled out as he finished the song and about half a dozen airforce jets did some fancy flying above Parliment Hill as he hit that last, long note. And I remember the Hare Krishna's singing and dancing across the street. But now, now the street was comparitively deserted, not as I was used to it. I was wished quite a few drunken 'Happy Canada Days!' wish I returned sleepily; I was on my way home from a breakless 11hour shift at the restuarant. As I turned down Bank I realized that I would have to wade through more parties before finally hitting the subdued stretch known affectionately as the Glebe.
zeke at equilibrium i hover through chain link light in cyan bright water. the tug and pull of surrounding volume tilts me a bit signaling a tumble that never comes and i rise. emptying in sizzling roil the breath tickles and slides over my face, combining as it races away. small sounds change my hearing while i descend. i stop without touching and drift, pillowed on hydrolic cushions, and rise. 040706
zeke heat walks across the sand. pale blue stripe, backed with grey white piles. voices of birds murmur and fade under hiss and muted roar in cycle. mist of far places caress, with memory of road tar torture (bare feet slap and sting in long forgotten summer of salty dream). small and impetuous things stalk beneath woven valley and the cool beneath my arid cheek. i am spinning down, endless. 040716
z red brown clay clumps and grit, dented by the flaked edge of the blue stone slab. the detritus of garden life entombed by capillary action under the lateral force of the walk. clay mud in the grassy verge flattens and mats the stalks in a wavy line as work. from the bench is bourne an sharp pine tang, mixing with earthy green and flinty bluestone rumours. slowly the path is exposed. it lays now, waiting. 040719
i should proof my work red brown clay clumps and grit, dented by the flaked edge of the blue stone slab. the detritus of garden life entombed by capillary action under the lateral force of the walk. clay mud in the grassy verge flattens and mats the stalks in a wavy line as i work. from the bench is bourne a sharp pine tang, mixing with earthy green and flinty bluestone rumours. slowly the path is exposed. it lays now, waiting. 040719
once again There in the midst of those shining brown curls a drop of silver sweat, reflects for a moment the heat in my eyes. And your eyes in mine, coffee or chocolate, or rich mocha creme, stern and beguiling fading to deep. And I try to swim downward in to their depths, but there's no air here and I fear I might drown. Breathe into me, let me live just this once... and then the smooth strength of shoulder made for leaning, the grasp of a hand on an arm made for holding. And the sound of a soft and cynical smile glinting in the darkness of the look that knows all. When things mean to much, when we mean them at all, and we know where the high tide line will be. Yet we run to the water and dart back again as the waves push to far or just far enough, to carry us over the edge. 040719
lacunas coil Nonetheless they all knew that it was coming. Because of this they fled before the wave could sweep away the last remnant of sanity that they held. 040720
newme spin thud spin 040720
twilightfox she is sitting at her computer. her life is all that she could've hoped for a couple months ago. she had forgotten that as you decimate your old problems, minor ones grow and new ones are born.
and she is sitting at her computer. her moods are so volital, and she is panicking: her body stays still as her mind searches for a way to escape.
and she is sitting at her computer. she is blasting her music so that for a moment she cant bear to worry.
dudeinanigloo The arctic wind blows across the tundra,
taking massive snow drifts with it.
Only a fool would venture here,
for doing so would mean certain death.
But in the distance,
a round dome-shaped structure is observed.
Consisting of 200 or so carefully shaped chunks of ice water,
it provides sufficient shelter for the fool habitating it.
A truly ingenious creation,
for it is perfectly suited for this desolate place.
somebody it was a long night..
a very long night..
I invited you in, more to sleep than anything..but it seems that the coy look I wear most of the time, got the better of me tonight.

the door was closed..

to touch your skin is to succumb to every inate, primal urge shoved out of the way over the years..
I love the way you move..the way you fit in my arms..and I in yours..and I love the way you hold me..

you were so fucking gentle..
I've never wanted anyone as much as I wanted you then..

whats done is done..
yes it hurt..more than I expected..
I knew it would end up being you..

so..one chapter of my life closed two days ago..
I lost nothing.
I simply set it aside..

...good night love...its far too soon for this...but...good night anyhow.
Splinty I look at you closer. You're short, the fact you'd never wear heels accentuates this. You have a straight nose, little brown paint-fleck freckles and deep liquid brown eyes. A smile drips off your chapped lips and you turn to face him silently, I'm so close to you that I take you in, breathe your clingy, milky, perfumey scent more than ever as it consumes me. Wrapped in you, your essence, your pulse, your slow, steady breathing I move closer. Gently I brush away the soft, wispy bits of hair on the back of your neck. The ones that got away, the ones that weren't held down. Like you and me. I kiss the back of your neck, your warm skin on my lips, the feel of your backbone as I press closer, closer. You shiver slightly, and turn to face me. "There it is again" you say, your long black coat swishing like an agitated cat's tail, "I tell you Max, there's something in the air tonight" 040726
zeke it was small and black and smooth. i kept it in my pocket with my change. i would find it on tables, or my leg when i sat for a while. somehow it would always be in my next pair of pants when i put them on. it was the epitome of ubiquity, and so much apart of everything i did that i did not think about it at all. i do not remember, however, when or how it stopped being with me. i know i have it, but not where it is. 040805
z humid. and not hot. sky like melted wedgewood, with very dilute ink over it all. tree greens of that dark, tired patience. light everywhere even; shadows implied, but not actually cast. more like sprayed or broadcast. green grass bright, tough and short everywhere, level nowhere. the berm curves around the swampy verges of black and slick green lake water, dwarfing small turtles. grassy slope cringes into brushwood and root rot chaos; the path is thick with thorns. we tremble under and over fallen, tangle, stooping in crouching stumble. after a while, scratches leaking, we stop, and retrace, cutting and slipping deeper into mud hole sinks, and bramble mires. retreat. 040818
zeke severe. sharp walls; all corners. steps of stone and cast iron slap hard against feet. railing, hard shellac dark on heavy dark wood held by gray paint cast metal bolted. door mass swings on silent hinges; metal locks clutch and catch. sound slaps; noises ring long. black grained polished granite repels dust, absorbs nothing. not light, the glare bounces, not moisture, the liquid puddles. and i pass through, untouched.

and stops.
once agaon Liquor has a sweet smell... that faintly alcoholic scent that catches you unaware. Intoxicating almost... as if I breathed to deep I would be lost in your blue eyes. And they are blue... I have watched them in wonder or awe... to me you are something that should not exist... soemthing that is magical almost... But devastatingly real... and when we wrestle back and forth in endless pointless struggle... I feel safe... no pain will find me here. It could be that there is solace in this rage. That their is surcease from confusion in the giving of you. You shock me with your kindness. I am not accustomed to this and it takes me unawares... I could love you easily, but you are the sort of person who would not hurt me like that and so I refrain... not wanting to force you into a move you did not choose to make. I think perhaps I think too much. 050131
zeke moving from the parking lot into the darkness beneath the trees and following the path by foot feel (the hard-packed earth and exposed roots are invisible to eyes at night). i follow it's twists and turns occasionally flinching at false branches caused by the lack of depth in the pattern of midnight sky in the interstices of the leafy canopy around me. wandering of the trail for a step or two, i feel around for the slightly eroded depression of it through my soles. across the dry run and out into where i left my car and stops 050909
zeke glossy haze of moving stars rides sideways in my eye and the stutter and bump grow endless as the metal road screams below me in the wind rain river of my way over time's lost provenceglossy haze of moving stars rides sideways in my eye and the stutter and bump grow endless as the metal road screams below me in the wind rain river of my way over time's lost regions and the swift past bridges that are gone before they are seen in the tall swamp grasses the bird is still and stops. 051021
zeke glossy haze of moving stars rides sideways in my eye and the stutter and bump grow endless as the metal road screams below me in the wind rain river of my way over time's lost regions and the swift past bridges that are gone before they are seen in the tall swamp grasses the bird is still and stops. 051021
duh oops 051021
pete dim lights, wood paneled walls, small square tables overflowing with happy people, covered with glasses, empty and being consumed, laughter and cheers.

sitting at the bar, two girls, an empty stool, sitting down, looking across at the dusty bottles, beer flows freely liquor drips, smiles and conversation, how are things, one asks, knowing another perspective wanting mine, things are explained haltingly, not letting anything out, giving a general mood instead of examples or ideas.

wondering about the gossip that fills this group, one year advanced, two years older, thinking of how my classmates have yet to realize, slowly sinking in, i smile, in thought, traffic of bodies, drunken hazes, smoked scented clothes, mingling of years, smiling inwardly to hide the excitement of revelations.

time passes, people exchange glances, places, leaving emptiness, a wandering night, stars talking between friends, relevation meets reason, merging moments seen with wonderment lost.
epitome of incomprehensibility Jogging memory, snowflake distractions, a broken ink cartridge like a fallen soldier staining the snow beside the grocery store. 140201
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