revelation birdmad the transition from the obscure to the obvious 010128 ... silentbob there is no such thing as a selfless act. Even when you do things for other people, you have a feeling of satisfaction, a reassurance that you're a good person, hence, you're doing it for yourself. 010128 ... dean-bean Two days. On one I realized how unimportant I was. The other one was when I realized I would, no matter what I did, die. I've got to make my little plinth in the desert, so I don't get fortgot, yeah? 010409 ... daxle people in bands aren't gods one person cannot be greater than another 020121 ... Annie111 i don't care what people think about me so much anymore it was a fleeting revelation 020122 ... bespeckled They sat staring into each other's faces in the front seats of his truck. The deafening sounds of their breathing flooded their ears. Her eyes weren't sure how many seconds past proper her eyes had lingered, so she nervously shifted her gaze to the dark beams of the hollowed building in front of her. He watched her look at him from the corner of her eyes and smiled at her fluttering reaction to tenderness. Her eyelashes beat like butterfly wings - nervous, unsure, ready to take flight at a sign of alarm. Her heart thumped deliberately against her chest and her teeth found the soft skin of her bottom lip to be the perfect distraction for her jumbled thoughts. He smiled purposefully at her agitation, her darting eyes and beating lashes - so fast, so ready to take flight. A keenly spoken question escaped him, one he hadn't intended to ask: "What if I kissed you?" Her irises focused keenly on his face -striking him so direct and deeply, he shivered as he felt her hand plunge into his soul and her fingers wriggle through his emotions. He wondered if he had exposed his spirit, and almost closed his eyes as if to ward off her stare. But the light from the yellow dome light caught the piercing shine in her eyes, and held him pinned against his seat, beneath the weight of her probing stare. He fought the urge to conceal himself, exposed like Adam in the presence of the devine. The inching of a smile at the corner of her lips loosed the clamps that crushed him. Rose-scented air floated from her skin into his lungs, waves of reassuring tenderness flooded from her expression into his eyes. Love rose up in his throat as a ball of speechless thought - he could say nothing but to keep staring into her face, a feeling of helpless euphoria overwhelming his senses. From behind silent fog-filled windows shone the beam of the dome light off their ardent skin, piercing the dreary night. 021116 ... belly fire in my haste I paint a portrait inside my head of how he should be. drastic colours and a collapsing heart. desparate words between sobs to move me. oh how he does make me move. I am always pulling at my eyelashes, tonguing my teeth, stretching my palms in contemplation of his miserable countenance and perfectly sad posture. I dream of his dark eyes and lustrous hair - wishing it were golden. I create for myself a truth that is unachievable - positively improbable - for we are alike so much that we dare not breathe the same air. we would suck it all in greedily and suffer our indulgence. he is beautiful and mutilated, free and suffered. his fingertips are long against his own reflection where everything is plastic and unreal. he makes it so. it is safe. it is cold. for him the only place to be is the tops of mountains. while I turn inward he opens up his palms and eats the snow through his skin. his bliss is grey. more colourful than my rainbows. 021117 ... belly fire I realized today Nomatter where I am In the picture I'm the odd man out. btw... I'm drunk. 030110 ... unhinged i want to break the pattern of all the other relationships i've had in the past three years it starts tumultuous passionate romantic and then at some point i'm not allowed to have feelings cause the feelings aren't rose colored anymore love isn't always romantic love isn't always kind (is love an occasional thing?) 130224 ... epitome of incomprehensibility Mom and Dad are reading Revelation aloud in the living room. I'm not sure why. In the dining room, I've just finished listening to a song called "The Antichrist" that I clicked on because I was curious about the name. Not the song name. The band name: Lesbian Bed Death. They seem to be from Scotland, seem fun, but the song's a bit...I don't know, the riff is kind of plodding, typical. I'm in a critical mood, comparing it my absorption in reading Revelation at Cedar_Christian_Academy. I was 12, 13, 14 - life was newer. But it didn't feel like it at the time because I was terrified of eternity and also bored of math. Revelation was comforting somehow. I got a subversive thrill out of avoiding school work by reading the Bible, sitting at my desk facing the wall. I was also afraid I was a lesbian. Reveal this in your fiction: yes, I had a crush on an older girl whose name started with M. In the living room: lake of fire, book of life. A new heaven and a new earth. The holy city, the new Jerusalem, the bride beautifully dressed. And then something I sang a song to: and there shall be no more death. Not even lesbian bed death? Well, not for the wishy washy bisexuals. Washy: my brother's doing dishes in the kitchen. We ring in the New Year by staying up late and being mundanely weird, like thrones made out of jasper and amethyst but less fancy. 231231 what's it to you? who go blather from