OOoooohhhh weee.

Can’t stop, addicted to this shindig.

Can’t stop, addicted to this shindig.

Can’t stop.


I didn’t know something, and you made sure I knew that.

So I tried learning something, and you didn’t like that.

So I pretended to hate it too, and now your gone.

You say you hate yourself, but you really just hate everyone else that isn’t you.

And that hate emanates from you body through your jokes and bombastic gesticulations.

Your ability to attract is your most dangerous quality.

Your despair captured me, a fly buzzing around your delicious light.

And, I ached for you. But, even though I knew you were dangerous, I willing leaped into your glow. The pain was nice, and so I vigorously embodied a masochist while your energy consumed me.

Now I am on the floor, with a twitch that I am not sure will ever leave.

You are an incessant self-deprecating monster, if, of course self references everything but that.

And I see that. Everyone sees that.

But, strangely enough, now I see you.

As I struggle to hold on to life, I can still peer above me and observe your being.

I see the power behind the glow. The power that stems from something deeper.

The power that does not come from within your exterior, but from the grounded body of electricity that remains in the past. It is immovable, and it is necessary for your life. But, it can be used for something else.. openness, and ability to accept love, and ability to receive ideas and judge them as valid for another, even if they may not be for someone else.

Unplug your hate, and use it for something other than destroying those who see the power, the wonderful power.

The potential. I can’t stop thinking about the wondrous potential.

You, in all your chaotic glory.

Then again, I am just a fly.



Writing Challenge (Day 6): “Who” Writing

*In this section of my writing challenge, I am given a character of some sort that I must develop in some sort of way – descriptively or characteristically. Other than this difference, the tasks are the same. Just a note, this proved to be much more difficult that the object writing. It is more constricted, but the more challenge the merrier. That is the saying, right?*

Session 1 (5 minutes): Sailor

It is 3 in the morning, and of course he’s awake. Recently, he doesn’t sleep much. He sits, secluded from the others, the ship.. the water – a separate entity. Searing pain shoots up his right shoulder, and he caresses the scar featured on his right arm. His eyes sharply twitch for he is aware; he has to be. 10 years ago, never would he have set foot on a ship. Never would he have dared to reenter the water that changed his life – changed him – forever.

Session 2 (10 minutes): Waitress Clearing a Table

Striding throughout the restaurant, the waitress attracts attention from around the room. She approaches each mountain of wasted nourishment with more grace than the disgrace of a place to eat deserves – lifts each plate and bowl caked with anything but that, extends her arm with a fervent finesse, and douses each table with cleanser gracefully. She keeps a smile painted across her face as she conquers tables whose surfaces that would function better as a fly traps. Gliding along, she senses the eyes that caress her curves and ache to hold her. But, she has learned to ignore it. She also has learned to ignore the cat calls that bombard her on a nightly basis. These phrases only fall onto her shoulders like dust – uninteresting and unimportant.

Session 3 (90 seconds): Scientist

Unsatisfied with the unknown, his heart inflates with joy when he fails. For his failure resembles success. The failure is not a punch to the gut, it is a promise to the future. His hair is unkempt, and his clothes are mismatched, but he doesn’t…

Writing Challenge (Day 5): Object Writing

Session 1 (5 minutes): Movie Theater

Waiting in line, I study the group of people within the Theater. They all seem to embody different intentions. One might assume that we’d all be here to watch a movie, but is that really true? I see a few people standing an awkward distance apart, a young boy and girl. Ahh, first date, how cute, how irritatingly cute. And the boy turns around, nonchalantly inhaling his own breath – ironic right? I notice his perspiration restricted to the creases of his forehead, and as he wipes away his body’s tears, I notice the girl. Cherubic beauty with a twinkle of neoteny still left in her eyes – a curious one. I blink and for some reason see her morph into the woman she will become. This women embodies beauty and power and as I focus on her eyes, I search for the twinkle of youthfulness…

Session 2 (10 minutes): Cigar

The big brother to the rambunctious cigarette. He has seen a lot of things, lived a lot of lives. He burns with slow and ancient grace. Bitter yet all the more inviting. I use the cigar, use him for all he’s worth. Comforting, I ignite him and I feel the memories sown into his paper skin unravel. He reminds me of myself really. Slowly encroaching on an end. But an end that leaves ashes, leaves a part of himself behind. His memories are scattered into the wind and they follow me, but they are not alone. With the ashes of the old cigar, I feel my memories tag along, like old friends, they get lost in each other lives and start to forget they ever spent time apart. As the final puffs of the cigar approach reality, I can’t help but notice the strength of the cigar. It starts to burn my lips, my mouth. It’s becoming alive – it knows it doesn’t have much time left. But this promise of an finite excising from existence only heightens his want for life. He uses each inhale as something more. His passion makes me think he can never die, never leave me, never stop comforting me. But, he breathes only once more and I…

Session 3 (90 seconds): Arrow

“WELL HELLLOOOOOO KIND SIR. Look at me, I am very inviting, am I not!? You see me, and your eyes, they go somewhere do they not! HA. Well great. This means you should look there. Where? Right there. Listen to me. I have direction. I am motivated. Don’t you feel as if you are looking directly where you should be????”

I stand there intrigued until I realize the arrow has no other purpose than to deter my focus from everyone and everything else. Stupid…

Writing Challenge (Day 3): Object Writing

Session 1 (5 minutes): Umbrella

I walk and while the sturdy and crooked shield surrounds my body, I find raindrops crawling through the air and latching onto my feet, my shoes, my calves. The water is like a disease. It takes hold of the fibers of my pants and begins to insert itself between the threads.. between the atoms. I feel my emotions shrivel as the water infests my socks, and grasps onto my toes. Anticipating the moment when I can defeat the irritation lingering in my mind, my pace quickens, yet I find that this increase in speed and breath sounds, I am also feeding the diseased water. It finds the quickening invigorating and thrives in its attack on my sanity and dry…

Session 2 (10 minutes): Hair

Hello, my name is Society. I have been thinking about hair for quite a while. Not just anyone’s hair.. but women’s hair. I see hair as a pivotal determining factor of women and their value. I see women as only a canvas for their hair to paint over. It should be long, bouncy, beautiful, vivid in color, but natural, no chemical products placed to tarnish the natural value hair has. If it is short, people must consider that women to be a tomboy or possibly lesbian. If there is no hair, the woman is obviously sick and we should treat her this way. If her hair is not natural in color, but instead exotic, she is obviously a rebel, and she has tattoos and drinks quite a bit with the occasional drug here and there. If her hair is greasy, she is obviously a dirty person who never showers. I have determined that everyone must have the corresponding hairstyle for their designated social niche. Wow, now that I have been thinking about hair, I have realized how much I love perfection and judgement. Judgement is a way of life, it should be thrown into everyone’s head, forcefully but nonchalantly. I think I will convince everyone that they don’t judge, but that they are just being honest with themselves and their thoughts are justified. You know what, now that I think about it, why doesn’t everyone just determine each other’s worth based on how they look. Why don’t I make it extremely difficult to be liked if you look a certain way? That sounds like a wonderful idea. Yes, I will do that. And everyone will be so excited…

Session 3 (90 seconds): Feather

I often imagine what it would be like to be a feather. Falling would no longer be terrifying or dangerous. After being released in the air, the air doesn’t strike your body, it caresses it. You embrace the air and welcome it to your gentle body. And as you approach the ground – you hope for the earth…

Writing Challenge (Day 2): Object Writing

Session 1 (5 minutes): Bathroom Mirror

Standing weighed down by the horrors of self-loathing pulses ebb. No, pulses flow and the room is lit on fire. But I don’t mind the burn. Maybe it can melt my insecurities so that they drip off of me like the remnants of a gentle rain on rejuvenated saplings. The globules of self-conciousness form a leveled puddle on the ground and I use the structure as a pedestal so that I am lifted above my self-inflicted restrictions – lifted above the mirror which paints me – my body – slapdash and unkept for the audience of my mind to roar and judge. I see refuse hit the mirror as my audience becomes…

Session 2 (10 minutes): Dentist

Curious how the burliest of men can be intimidated by a man in a white coat. White – traditionally exuding purity and peace. But the white is tainted through metallic beings of torture. The body is entranced by the low whirs and hums of insect-like contraptions that infect the mouths of the helpless damsels in hidden distress. The light penetrates the film shielding the eye and its glowing – the fear of the trapped damsel is illuminated and shocks flow from the thin film to the thickest of callouses until his skin disintegrates and becomes that of a young toddler – a small child – unaware of the horrors of life. Welcoming and naice, the child invites the insects until they betray him and he ignites – the poping sparks infest diamon like surfaces and unveil the sensitivity within. The master moces with such elegance and grace – menaically and I become him – staring at the heap od shrivelling muscles and increasingly sinewy bones. I disappear from my seat and what remains is pure innocence; a glowing shell of acceptance soon to be shattered by…

Session 3 (90 seconds): Screwdriver

While trying to build a life – a structure – progress itself. I find myself struggling to hold on as the world rotates around my hand – my head – yet I have no control of its decisions. I struggle to hold onto my handle – my part of the…

Writing Challenge (Day 1): Object Writing

Session 1 (5 Minutes): Sky

Sky. Not just an escape for the trodden paths – the worn down thoughts of those hoisting the sickening weight of yesterday’s forgotten dream of a generous tomorrow. Tomorrow, the Dionysus of time. Promises of luscious splendor. A seemingly endless entrancing bliss. Yet, tomorrow comes and.. a hope for that forever reaches mortality. Take his hand, and look past the mask. Even the god of endless celebration hides from his inner…

*Sadly ends the 5 minute time slot*

Session 2 (10 minutes): Crash

A hypocrite of words, if anything.

The glory sounded from a hundred bombastic cymbals.

The timbre of metallic power – a man claiming his ceaseless servitude to leading.

The molten ore of progress – an initial crash of innovation leads only to resounding remnants of true passion.

Yet, in the crashing of the cymbal, lies three broken bodies, limp on the blood coated remnants of horror incarnate.

She gurgles, for neither her soul could leave the body in peace.

A pureness fighting for emptiness

For emptiness numbs the scathing wounds where…

*Sadly ends the 10 minute slot*

Session 3 (90 seconds): Lily Pad

Envious is the frog of the lily pad – its sheen resilience and utter simplistic isolated resting – the frog must rely on the pad – simplicity taunts the frog’s inabilities…

*That was quick*