It never speaks,
it barely breathes,
it never fades away,
It sucks you up, then spits you out,
leaving you behind.
It tugs at your heart,
then casts it out like trash.
it walks and talks with others,
but ignores you completely.
It cast it's line,
and pulled you in,
then threw you to the sharks,
you spun in it's orbit,
only to fly out and land on your face.
it left you for things,
pieces of paper and plastic.
it orbited your world once,
the left to spin through another.
that is the behavior of the void.
It was midnight on the roof,the stars bright and shining, the moon full and gleaming. Sat up there alone I contemplated my own existence. As this speck in the whole tapestry of existence, can my life have meaning? Will I be able to understand all that life presents to me?
These questions plagued my mind for a few minutes, turning over slowly whilst I search for any answer, to questions I knew would be impossible to find one for. In the tranquility of the night, the mind often wanders to such matters. Within the idea of the unknowable, is the...
He had her in his sights. The moment he saw her, he zeroed in on his prey. Her grace, her beauty... she stood apart from the rest of the herd. Easy pickings.
He waited for her to stop, her attention focused elsewhere, light illuminating her silhouette - almost like a halo. Perfect.
Ready, aim... *click*
"Excuse me, ma'am?" he asked, running over to her with the rapidly-drying Polaroid. "Would you like a souveneir of your trip here? Only five dollars for the pretty lady!"
The woman blushed and pushed the film away. "No thanks," she said, "I'm fine."
No doubt...
The princess gazed from her tower to the lake, the castle reflected ever so perfectly in the waters. "Nann." She whispered. She could almost see herself in the window of the watery tower. "Look at the castle in the lake."
Her nanny crept behind her, stole a glance over the princess' shoulder. Shuddered. "Come away, child. Away from the window."
"Why, what for, Nann?"
"There's worlds sometimes should not be looked at. There are good castles and bad. Please, m'dear. That lake stole your brother from us. Ain't nothing good to come from it."
So the princess was shuffled to...
Wooshy
Wooshy and futuristic
Just out of the corner of my eye, that thing I had been running towards, to, seeking
It moved
With a woosh and a blur
And me left here behind
Without outward direction
Spinning to find the horizon, when did the sun go down? How had it become so late?
I felt old and breathy and hot
I felt like I no longer knew things
I had never known things
Things had never been allowed to know me
Running so long
I lay down in the green moist grass
I watched the ants
Where were they...
The cord wrapped around the foundation of the building and led into the hedges separating the two parcels of land. Thick as a forearm and coal-black, it seemed oddly out of place way out here in the Yukon. He follows it through the hedging, sacrificing the soft underskin of his forearm to the barbs and branches which leave a series of shallow scratches, which soon seep small droplets of bright-red oxygenated blood.
It is overgrown past the shrubbery, with wild grasses and weed growing archlike over the alien wiring. He concludes it must have been here for some time, though...
The sun seared our backs as we dove hand in hand. We were days from civilization, and it was the happiest we had ever been. The sand invaded every nook and crevice of our lives, but we had no shadows and no secrets, so it was inconsequential.
I looked at my son and saw his mother in him. His eyes were the color of eagle-sky, as if he spent so many hours cloud-gazing that the heavens imbued his irises with their hue.
"What did you learn today, daddy?" He asked me this every evening, knowing I had long been mute....
Waves.
When I opened my eyes the image faded, something from a dream. The waves were pink, lapping against the beach and around my ankles. The pink was tinged with pale green, and the forms in the distance, all of them waist deep in the water were the last to delete from my waking memories.
I only remember one of the forms with clarity. One shoulder higher than the other, arms dangling at the sides, a feeble attempt to wave with the shorter arm.
There were tears in my eyes, and I ran my fingers through my hair, and I...
Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
Two weeks ago, she had rebelliously boarded a ship from the island of Taiwan, left her grandparents who had raised her, and traveled back to China to find her parents -- who she wouldn't have recognized at all. She had been sent off as a baby during the Civil War; no sane Republican would have wanted their children brought up where intellectuals like her learned mother and her professor father were being publicly humiliated, abused. It is why she, as a baby, was sent away in...
A tattoo of a shadow remains when the light recedes.
Mock the sun, then, and ridicule the clouds. They've always seemed so stupid anyway.
Clouds. The poets can have them. They can have the clouds and the sun. Where are their clouds on a sunny day? And where's their sun on this overcast morning?
That's my shadow. I always have it. I don't need the weather -- just the steady hand of a artist.
Tattooed, herself.