....this world who can benefit from you as a person if you just talk to them, just spend a part .....
I'm not one for dreaming. Of course, everyone tells me I do. "Everyone dreams, they say. "It's just a part of sleeping. Well, not for me it isn't. When I sleep, it's for real.
We drove to the cemetery and I watched as her coffin was lowered into the ground. I held onto myself with all my might, terribly afraid that I would start wailing. I loved my Grandmother and I didn't want her to go away! At the peak of anguish, two bumblebees landed on top of the coffin. They were portly, as Grandma had been, and drunk with pollen. I watched, mezmerized, as they rose and started droning around my head. I have always been terrified of bees, but this time there was no fear. I was completely entranced, and I didn't hear what the Rabbi was saying, because I knew that she was comforting me, and I smiled. I smiled! Beyond death, her love was so tangible. She was spelling my name for me with two immense, intoxicated bumblebees.
The little girl looked up at the mother. The woman sat across from her in the upstairs bedroom rocking away in the big rocking chair. She saw the mother rocking, rocking back and forth, she saw the mother rocking right out of the window behind the chair, past the trees, past the beach grasses and on into the lake.
Anorexia - without appetite, asexual - without sex, anosmia - without smell, achromatic - without colour.
... in time his breath is simply heard
and to the silence is preferred
Great meeting tonight. Feel like I'm getting back on track. In truth I have let my guard slip big time of late. Taking my recovery for granted, thought that I was the man, thought that I was whiter than white.
There is not one single person in the world who you can trust.
No hunts in this piece of fiction!
The scissors remind me of sex. The smooth ocean blue calms me down until the circles morph into a young girl right in front of my eyes. The sensual curves and pleasing twists of the handle rearrange their complex and interwoven lines until they form a shape I recognize as my own image.
Let the maggots be released from my skin. A thousand cuts, a million scars to end a life. And how bout that times I drank that fucking poision, sliding down my throat.
Buried beneath the soil you sleep to the lullaby of bereavement, good night and with this last kiss I bid you farewell. I leave you with the knowledge that this guilt will be branded in my heart for the rest of my being
Tormented by your happiness because it cast me aside, I became an outsider and I watched over you from far away. Your contentment disgusts me because it contradicts all those promises you made when I was the love of you life.