Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Pain
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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?…
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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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Cadie Coleman hated how the pale yellow kitchen walls mocked her. You're no good, daft woman. Why even have us if all you do is thaw and heat? Yo bitch, I'm still covered in crayon over here! Eat me, said the one with the Bon Appétit poster. Cadie ignored the…
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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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Just when I say I'll get a new lens to look through (in the hopes of seeing something new) a bird (a big one with a 6-foot wingspan) swoops out of nowhere (o.k. – swoops down from the snag I walk by every a.m.) and squawks in my face: "It's like this, little chicken;…
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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 