Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Love
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Leesa frequented the Food Court every day. The mission at hand was to record the stories of the people she saw, like the middle aged lady who talked to an empty chair. Leesa also observed the teenage boy who wore an Eisernes Kreuz on his tattered camo jacket, his head bent, surrounded by multiple black…
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I'm supposed to be moving day-to-day command center operations from the head to the heart, or so sayeth 2017. Never been much good with plumbing the murky depths of Feelings and Emotions. Too many bends in the pipe. Reckon emotivity is good for something, but what an awful sticky thing. Way easier to let that…
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You have no discernible shape. You are all pulsating gray matter and no body. I want to give you form. I want to give you a frame from which to hang your sentiment and shame. You rise and roll right up over me. No string, no tail. Nothing to grab onto at all. My hand…
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No fairytale, this. Just fast friends, a gruesome end, and a few fond words shared at the wake. But I pretend, just to mess with make-believe, that love is a redemptive endeavor and not at all about insecurity / jealousy / obsession / regret: The two of you sip limoncello on Capri. I wait for…
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And like o.k.: There's this particular writer whose work I've read and enjoyed and whom I find interesting and irritating all in one big, messy mouthful of come-one-come-all (talkin' bout chyoo JD). Yeah so, brutha man goes on about fat folks in his stories and he himself is pretty thin (cute, though – I'm shallow,…
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The awareness of the brain lost in thought, the knowledge of the body at home in this lunchtime dream drenched in milky sunshine, is preferable to the bite and sting of the early rise, the long bus ride, the musty insides of the shoe repair shop. Lara Milford, on this day, decides to go by…
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I know you didn't think much of her when we brought her home, but Lily's still looking for you. In the closet. She's in there right now because a big, bad thunderstorm rolled through here a few minutes ago. She hates them now, just like you did. Funny how she never minded the wind and…
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I'll offer to entertain. Maybe slake a thirst you didn't know you had. Come sit beside me and let's repeat all those first time feelings they say can never flow through us again. If we're going to chase down a dream, Hope says the impossible is as good a goal as any.
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Chance is a mile marker on the road between birth and death. Chance really means Supposed To Happen. Events occur as we cruise along life's highway. Outcomes, though? Beautifully complex is the study of unpredictability! We each walk a path littered with opportunities, and existence is heavy on the questions. Missed anything? Got it right?…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 