Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Love
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it's ok if the songwriting suffersthe poetry stinkssnapshots of flowersboring/blurry/bathed in shitty lightit's all rightthe big red death moonand a pox on your lipsbrings big big changeand change is magicdisguised as one's biggest fear
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ridges break airwaves. lifelines need to stretch, not snap. answer autumn's call.
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What you are meant to have will show up on your porch eventually. It may be festively beribboned. It may sit at the bottom of a grease-stained Wendy's sack. "It" is the opportunity you work on in the quiet moments of a busy day. Or, in spurts of activity that come with the full moon.…
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Turn your world upside down and see what falls out of its pockets. Any keepers, tossers, or mysteries mixed in with the lint? What have you been holding on to? Does it hug you back (like maybe a small primate with its digits around your neck?) Cartwheels reveal frightfully forgotten things.
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Jenny loves Johnny. Johnny's totally wrong for Jenny but what does she know about love? Love is a lucky charm that keeps Jenny safe from loneliness. Jenny's lucky charm, though, has no power over her other troubles. Trip on your shoelaces. Repeat. Walk into a wall. Repeat. Chip a tooth on peanut brittle. Repeat. There's…
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I am a visitor here. When will the walls start to talk? Lines must be down; a widespread outage. No wonder the stars are burning at 30%. With so little light to go by, the question remains: Will I grow feet or wings, and where would those things take me? I see the pit, the…
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A slash of weak sunlight fell across the trivet with the blue rooster. It served as a weight so the construction paper wouldn't fly off the kitchen counter. In black ink Maia printed for the kids' sake, and used the words reminiscent, introspection, distaste, and exemplifies in her note. She wrote the date and time…
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She doesn't think I see her, but I do. Oh, I do. The ramshackle lady in flimsy pink flip-flops is a ghost. Is a ghost. We all haunt the places we miss the most. Even when the body is bound up by the present day, the spirit struggles to have its way. It asks: "Is…
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A one-way fandomThe passive act of dreamspeakVicarious Me Injurious You Reflections make safe idolsA warped and torn faith
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It's going to take years to untangle the knot, so get used to inconclusive results. The words'll sound right but won't jibe with the idea. Or, the idea will feel like a hot poker jabbed in your belly, but you've lost your last coherent sentence. Years, I'm telling you. And you're going to end up…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 