October 2010
40 posts
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Hunger.
You’re caught. A numb state of routine default, resorting to all the things you’ve known and and you’ve forgotten then relearned with blind eyes. You’re wavering between life and death, and you don’t even realize it. You’re thin as a tightrope, taught but lacking in stability. You wake up in the morning without a named purpose, but you still find meaning in...
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wrank asked: hi, i skimmed some of your poems and short stories. do you write a lot of stories? i prefer them to poems, haha no offence. you're a good writer yo..
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Dear Jackson Arras,
YOU ARE ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE EVER.
This Facebook conversation.
I am dying.
Let’s please hangout in Minnesota so I can make this sandwich and I can tickle you to death. Kthnx.
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hands,
the aching is always
in my hands, dull yet
heavy like memory,
and the things i
should feel with this
heart are only felt
in the bones and
muscles and hesitance
of small hands, cold
and waiting for a tangible
something that proves
itself to exist.
it shouldn’t make sense
for emotion to weigh
within the veins of hands,
but what is in a heart?
what is in this center of
my body...
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“So, throughout life, our worst weaknesses and meannesses are usually committed...”
– Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.
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Believer.
Maybe my pain and my numbness still exist, but I can’t deny that this is joyfulness. This isn’t just some happy moment that comes and goes, something that will easily be drowned out by an abrupt shift in mood. This is joy. To be happy is to be pleased and content, but not quite fully awake in the feeling. To be joyful is to be filled with a multitude of different things—happiness...
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WatchREBLOG FOREVER
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Now:
it always begins with the story,
with the one day or the one
moment where it became clear
there was something wrong to be
fixed and molded over time like
a picture that never seems to
hang right, crooked on a standstill
wall; but for me it always begins with
the now and how i know so well
how this began and how i got here
and from safety i ran, and i’m
simply trying to work my way...
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Found out.
Don’t notice. Don’t point out that I’m thinner, don’t point out what you saw under a too loose sweater sleeve. Don’t say, “I don’t think you’re okay” because I don’t want another diagnosis when there’s another one awaiting in every terrifying doctor office. When I’m dizzily swaying in uncontained thought, don’t try to...
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Story filled.
There are a multitude of emotions that I can fake. There are a lot of emotions that anyone can fake, and it’s just a matter of circumstance and the endearing protection of the wavering subconscious. I can force myself to feel anything; I can force myself to be anything. It’s really not that hard. It’s as simple as picking up a book, letting a person sit there and talk talk talk...
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Slow Dancing in a Burning Room - John Mayer
I was...
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Thank you for being there for me when I wasn't...
I’m self-destructive. I fold into myself when I need help the most. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I want to cry. I’m unstable. I push you and everyone else away. I don’t try hard enough. I try too hard. I’m weak. I cry too much. I smile just to prove I’m okay, even when I’m not. I worry too much. I can never make up my mind. I’m confused. I’m...
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Headlight illuminated white
upon red, block letters like
stern mothers. There is no right
nor wrong, just what is said
that must be followed. There is
an invisible hand that holds you
back, a fine slight line of unforced
obedience connecting eye to ear
to mind, so when you see the
sign, you simply do as it says and
stop.
Fear illuminated brown
upon white, eyes telling you
everything...
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How My Heart Behaves - Feist
A cold heart will...
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Things I am looking forward to:
ACT Study Date with Oozma.
Watching a fifteen hour long German opera with Jordan.
Spending a few days with Cody Foster.
Halloween in Minnesota.
Eunji, GKV, Zach, Zack, Eli.
National Novel Writing Month.
Getting my wisdom teeth out.
Just kidding.
Omar coming home :3
Oozma’s birthday.
Going back to Minnesota. SNOW SNOW SNOW.
Christmas.
Figuring out life.
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“So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if...”
– John Green, Looking for Alaska.
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I promise you it will be okay.
there is a silence that begins like a
thumping on the door, or some sort
of engine beginning to hum under
foot pressing into pedal, the first
whisper of a rainfall tiptoeing in,
or maybe it’s more like falling and
falling and never landing and trying
to let out a scream as the ground nears
but you never make it, and you decide
to just fall deep into yourself to keep
the motion...
Please save me from myself.
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time for us works in opposite directions—
hours become dissected,
dismantled and quietly unwoven
into precious beads of seconds
as it moves forward,
a never ending tick-tock
like the beating of a heart.
And even as this great map
consumed our tiny frames
and the inches between us
became jagged miles undenied,
the entirety of the hours—
a sphere where, oh no, we must
curb...
“Oh, maybe we were made, we were made for each other, ah, is it possible for the...”
– MFEO Pt. 1, Jack’s Mannequin.
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I want your body, need your body
A beautiful...