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Literature Text
i. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you.
you taught me that the cold could be bitter, and so could people's dreams.
you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.
i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.
ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.
and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.
but we both ended up laughing hysterically with protruding knives on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?
iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would seize.
one human, two humans, three and then four, all of them would reach to fix their own watches.
but no one would catch the frozen hands of the clock i betrayed; you taught me how to feel good about things like that.
you took naps on stratus clouds because you loved watching meteorologists get mini-heart attacks and laying there made you feel like Zeus. but you never noticed that when you felt like you were thundering, you weren't raining hard at all, and when you saw those same clouds bring a hailstorm, you never really snowed.
iv. smirks broke the solitude and loneliness crept in; the thin line between them lay raped by the timidly hostile enemy they called you. that's what you were always good at; telling me i'm wrong, but wanderlust was the only color that looked good on me.
and i don't fucking share.
v. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season, before Christmas carols on Valentine's day seemed ironic to you.
Do me a favor, you whispered to my hair, brushed by your winter sea-breeze breath just as i was about to get up and leave. Tell me what the cold tastes like to you.
a smile tore my lips and opened my eyes to silence.
i walked on.
you taught me that the cold could be bitter, and so could people's dreams.
you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.
i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.
ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.
and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.
but we both ended up laughing hysterically with protruding knives on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?
iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would seize.
one human, two humans, three and then four, all of them would reach to fix their own watches.
but no one would catch the frozen hands of the clock i betrayed; you taught me how to feel good about things like that.
you took naps on stratus clouds because you loved watching meteorologists get mini-heart attacks and laying there made you feel like Zeus. but you never noticed that when you felt like you were thundering, you weren't raining hard at all, and when you saw those same clouds bring a hailstorm, you never really snowed.
iv. smirks broke the solitude and loneliness crept in; the thin line between them lay raped by the timidly hostile enemy they called you. that's what you were always good at; telling me i'm wrong, but wanderlust was the only color that looked good on me.
and i don't fucking share.
v. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season, before Christmas carols on Valentine's day seemed ironic to you.
Do me a favor, you whispered to my hair, brushed by your winter sea-breeze breath just as i was about to get up and leave. Tell me what the cold tastes like to you.
a smile tore my lips and opened my eyes to silence.
i walked on.
Literature
Advertisements
She was only six when the funeral homes started sending us advertisements, all competing with each other to be the best, to win her business. To win our business, more like; six is hardly old enough to understand what's going on. It's not old enough to understand why everyone is covering their mouths with their hands and failing to hold back tears when you walk into the room, or old enough to understand why people begin to outright sob when you start talking about what you want to be when you grow up. Once it was a doctor, before that it was a fairy princess, but right now it's a policewoman.
And of course all the children have heard about t
Literature
Wish for Privacy
I live behind a locked door,
And no one has the key.
It has been years, maybe more
Since someone talked to me.
The solitude was nice at first,
The quiet let me think.
But soon it took a turn for worse—
Now all I do is blink.
So be careful, my dear friends,
When you wish for privacy.
Count to 5 when patience bends
Or you'll end up just like me.
Literature
OCD
I count the cracks in between the blocks of cement beneath me as I walk. Two. Two. Four. Four. Always four sets of that. Always two, two, four, four. Four times each. Look up. Blink 8 times. Two sets of four. Then back down. Two, two, four, four.
Safe. Those numbers are safe. Even, not odd. Odd is bad. 'Odd' is what people call you when you're different. Bad. Wrong.
Two, two, four, four. I try to focus on something else, not on how many steps I'm taking, because there are people behind me. Person. One set of footsteps. Bad. Half of two. I think of it as two feet, and that's better. I feel better.
I round a corner, looking for my goal. Alwa
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