It’s starts like a slow hum humhumhumhmmmmmm But then a feeling overwhelms you and the humhumhum feels more like a sickness in your stomach like a grrrrgurggroglegrr and the synapses in your brain begin firing rapidly electricly like a zzzzst zzzzst zzzzst You know something is happening, but, you didn’t leave anything behind when youContinue reading “POW-etry! Or, Fighting with a Woman”
Tag Archives: The Art of Language
Because, because, because
Why? I don’t know. Why? Bored? No. You? Maybe. Then, why? Because I have to. Why? To breathe, to smile, to live, to sleep, to hush the voices, to feel normal But, why? Why does anyone? Have we switched roles? Have we? You can’t switch roles when you only have one to play. Why? Don’tContinue reading “Because, because, because”
A Short Conversation
If I could speak to her about me then how could I talk about us without him getting jealous of them?
PRO-NUN-CI-ATION
(are you there Roald, its me Allia?) no Mr. Teacher not Aliyeh, A-H-L-E-A-H (please dont try to say my last name please dont try to say my last name please dont try to say my last name) i dont funny tahk they’re speech is amuzing i am ameri-can i kome here (snickering, embarrassing, iContinue reading “PRO-NUN-CI-ATION”
Childhood Reality
(This is an excerpt from my childhood diary.)
Dweer Dwiaree
(This is an excerpt from my childhood diary.)
Cyclobenzaprine: (Noun) A muscle relaxant used for muscle spasms or acute injury
Apparently, I have a cute injury but the diagnosis doesn’t match the damage. Damaged road ahead. Caution! Scurvy crew working. What? I didn’t know the city paid for that. Bunnies on the moon huh? Damn. Then I could never live there because of my horrendous allergy. Thanks for the idea Sargent Newt. What is toContinue reading “Cyclobenzaprine: (Noun) A muscle relaxant used for muscle spasms or acute injury”
Ifrit & Enki
Flame tongue lights fires burning ideas to rampant ash blowing in a flurry and stuffing itself down the vacuous pit swallowing water spouts fuming funneling fantasies two smash like broken glass pieces of perspectives combined catastrophes coalesce in sun bursts
The Woman who Thought She Could do Everything
She couldn’t. She tried. It broke her she cried. Unfinished.
AWERFJIL 