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Early Summer FuneralsTrees quiver in the hot quiet
Sunlight and white soaking into the hollow marble halls
Like the formaldehyde seeps
Into the sleeping marble eyes of the pigs
In the faraway biology room. The cold scent of mint and acid-
Above, the leaves shiver with the warmth of these early summer deaths
As school buses on the serpentine hill reflect the sky that has collected between the hills.
Early NoelsI remember the feeling of staring deep into a Christmas tree, deep enough that I couldn't see the other side. Only the lights, blinking, shimmering just in the corners of my sleepless eyes.
And the green, green in the twinkling gloom.
Rustling, luminous ornaments glimmer, nestled among the prickling swoosh of the laden boughs. A jangling fish, the ruby velvet of a jewel-encrusted slipper, walnuts brimming with treasure.
There was magic in the glimmering slump of gingerbread dough, in the shivering of cedar as Christmas morning yawns, creaks.
The lone, smooth-feathered dove is the one I can never find, for I have hidden him deep within the tree again, like myself. Find me if you can.
May (The Sleepers)The fruit still slumbers in the garden
My eyes were torn open by the light
Twinkling grassy dust slumps in the air just beyond my eyelashes.
A story told me once that dust is human skin.
So perhaps now, a French debutante mingles with my curtains
While an Italian man rests idly in my best patterned teacup.
The strawberries sleep on.
birthday kiss. oikawa tooru x reader
"Good morning, [Name]-chan~!"
Oikawa gave the girl a wave, but the girl merely looked away, trying her best to ignore him at all costs. Knowing that she was avoiding his presence, Oikawa entered the classroom and grabbed a chair and scooted next to her. Really close to her. Too close for her own comfort. But did Oikawa care? No, of course not. He never cares about anything but himself.
Which is why [Name] hated him.
"Do you know what day it is~?" he asked, paying no attention at how the girl was extremely uncomfortable by the space between them. Oikawa, however, saw the tint of blush appearing on her cheeks, and that only made him want to get closer to her even more.
"Friday." [Name] simply replied, or at least, tried to.
"Nope!" he exclaimed, that sadistic smile of his still plastered on his dreadful face. The students stared at the two
lovebirdsstudents, blinking at the scene. Though, this wasn't the first time Oikawa barged into their c
SplitI didn’t know what to do for her. Or to her. Or with her. She cried, a lot. She thought I didn’t know, didn’t notice, or maybe just didn’t care.
I saw her dancing in the rain one Saturday afternoon, nude. Not a stitch on her, and dancing by the creek, red welts rising on her skin from the biting mosquitoes. She never danced. I watched, and marveled that she could dance and still look sad.
When the rain let up, she stopped and stared at the creek flowing and bubbling over big flat mossy rocks. I called her name without using my voice, and she turned, but then looked away again. I wondered where she was in her head, that she could stand there and ignore the itchy bites and not worry that she was naked.
I envied her lack of self-consciousness. I pulled my heavy cardigan around my shoulders, even though it was hot and muggy out. I hid in its folds like a turtle hides inside its mobile home.
Sometimes I could feel her tugging at me, begging. I was stubbor
runaway irony (FFM 22)Twenty minutes after finishing the documentary on New Zealand, Nicole had a plan worked out. She wrote it all down in gel pen, an itemised list of all the things she needed; then she got to work.
It wasn’t easy to convince the man in Bunnings to sell her nails, but she put on her best innocent face, and told him it was for her father’s garden shed. It wasn’t easy to convince the neighbour to let her have the old fence palings, either; nor the logs that had been earmarked for a bonfire, but a few hearty fibs and her best “I just want to help my daddy” smile went a long way to convincing them.
Two weeks later, she had bruised hands, a lot of knowledge about how not to use a hammer, and what she hoped would pass for a half-decent raft. She packed herself a bag with some clothes and spare underwear, then packed another bag, this one larger and wheeled, with as much canned food as she could carry. Before she left, she remembered to grab the can op
FFM 18: Friday NightAnother friday night. Burnt coffee, stale cigarette smoke, and a bunch of assholes that Vlad didn’t like any better than himself. If there was a silver lining here, it was that this would be his last meeting. That almost brought a smile to his tired, pallid face. Almost. Instead, he peeled off one last sticky tag, wrote his name, and sat in the circle with the rest of the guys.
Rat King was up first. Blah blah, all the usual bullshit about ruling the sewers. Honestly, who cared? That guy wasn’t a true monster. As far as Vlad was concerned, they should’ve sent him packing ages ago, but this was a place of support, so he’d never said as much. Twitching and fidgety, he waited for his turn to stand at the podium.
“Hello,” he began. “My name is Vlad. Of the Family Macnair.”
“Hi, Vlad,” the assorted murderers and thieves replied.
“As most of you know, I
homeI pray to go home.
on bended knee,
I lift my heart
to a nameless god,
I bless his heart,
or maybe hers,
and ask for deliverance
to a land
I feel a map,
carved into my shoulders.
three mirrors are arranged
directing my attention
to my back, a range of mountains,
but my eyes don't see.
is water through a sieve.
puddles flow beneath me,
no barrier to hold me
a cheshire smile
and reversible signs
lie to me
and no amount of tears,
salty oceans on my cheeks,
will bring me home.
I dream of a room,
soft and fuzzy to the sight,
where I feel at rest;
I know that I am still
Ageing Superhero (FFM 24)Nathan always imagined he’d go out in a gunfight, cape fluttering; a hero’s death in the pursuit of peace. Turns out, he was only right about the “gun” part.
* * *
Mr Cuddles weaves around Nathan’s ankles. He’s purring loudly, and shedding fur all over Nathan’s slightly-too-tight bodysuit, but Nathan’s attention is fixed on the tinny voice coming from his mobile.
“Look, your international days are over. You’re getting older, and I know you’ve gained a few pounds. No, don’t try to lie to me. You wear spandex, Nathan. It’s pretty unforgiving, and you no longer have a six-pack. The world events, the foreign villains, you can leave them to the newbies.”
Paying no attention to the plaintive-sounding agent, Mr Cuddles hunts, unnoticed as he follows Nathan towards the safe on the landing.
Nathan’s carrying his guns one-handed; he’s only half-listening to his age
The Bird Lady FFM20I’ve lived in NYC for over two years, and for so many people living there, it’s an awfully lonely place to be. Everyone is very focused on themselves, no one makes eye contact in the streets, and even the cabs ignore you. My job is the only thing that keeps me here. I make so much money, it would be stupid to move back home and work at my dad’s store for only a fraction of what I earn. That, and I have an old lady to take care of.
She’s one of those bird ladies in the park. She’s a sweet old thing, and it would kill me to leave her alone. It would probably kill her too.
We became friends because I was sitting alone in the park one afternoon, watching the clouds and daydreaming. She jumped out of nowhere and said, “Feed the birds?” I nearly fell off my park bench, I was so surprised.
“Sure, sure,” I said, pressing a quarter into her wrinkled hand. Gums showing, she smiled. She handed me a paper bag of breadcrumbs and sat next to me.
StrayIt had been raining for weeks. The arroyos were swept clean of litter and plant life and the bottoms of them ran with swollen creeks. I pulled my horse up and studied the trail leading sharply downward; it looked treacherous at best. The water sheeted off the brim of my hat, and the gelding stood with his nose at his knees, shielding his eyes from the downpour. It was a cold rain. Winter was coming, no doubt about that.
We picked our way down, looking for a stray whose trail I’d lost at some point yesterday. But she was ready to calve, and they never chose a good, safe spot to do so. It would be surprising if both had not been washed up and drowned in the last torrent.
I’d lost the trail of the cat, too. Judging from the prints I saw earlier it was fair sized, and likely following the cow knowing both she and the newborn would be an easy meal.
It happened so fast. I heard the rush and roar behind me only slightly later than Buck; he tucked his tail up under him and sc
MonarchyMinty leaves weave in the tangle of lacework, baubles tossed in by the whimsical operator of an unseen spinning wheel.
The winter hollows gleam, olive and deep tea green under the drowsy sway of snowflakes.
There is a harsh cawing, for a crow has been disturbed from his evening toast, perhaps by the velvety screech of willow branches on milky birch bark.
The cardinals, underbellies robed in burgundy plume, droop like fat cranberries on the ivory boughs and do not reply.
A spider plucks up his inky legs and creeps from the unbraided knobbles of a cornucopia of coarse yarn, onto the unfinished wooden floor.
In the forest, the cardinals remain as baffled kings, pining for their plump golden crowns that bulge with rich fabric.
Opals, snowdrops collect at their feet as they nestle, puff, quiver, discuss affairs of state.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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