August 2012
59 posts
6 tags
the dream catcher
a statue, frozen numb, covered in bird shit and you were never pigeonholed. closure is an act of violence, you know, like an aching, i will blink until i see stars. i will blink until i see blood. revenge is only as sweet as a balance beam: as dancing with the edge. my heart jumps fifty stories, you are the cement, oh the horror. like the snake’s kiss, like the sound of heaven and hell...
i’m entering yet another contest and i’d love to know: what are your favorite pieces by me? throw the answers, if there are any, in my ask please. :]
9 tags
mirror, mirror on the wall.
i think i look best in dusty rear view mirrors with raccoon eyes and sweaty palms and i think he looks best under dusty fluorescent lights with an unlit cigarette burning at his lips.
objects are always closer than they seem.
10 tags
fairy tails
i’m starting a project called ‘fairy tails’ where i’m basically going to be retelling classic fairy tales. so far, the line up is:
crossovers:
once upon a time (crossover with rapunzel, alice in wonderland, goldilocks, hansel and gretel, snow white, cinderella, little red riding hood and beauty and the beast) - complete
fairy tails - incomplete
the wizard of oz:
the land of oz (collab with...
5 tags
jingle bell
it is august and i hear christmas songs as i shop for groceries. the check out ladies are all either forty year old indian woman with fox eyes or young hispanic girls with loose black hair, tackily highlighted blonde. slowly, the days sketch wrinkles onto their skin and the ache in their feet becomes something regular. they are beautiful in a forgetful sort of way, and it makes sense becase i...
5 tags
anon challenge :]
i’ve seen 4 anon challenges on my dash in the last two weeks and i’ve decided to hold one of my own. :D
the theme is fairy tales. do what you want with that prompt, you can use a specific fairy tale or write your own or whatever you want. it can be poetry or prose. no longer than 500 words please.
winner gets to choose what they win! so, yeah if you win, as long as you don’t want money we can...
6 tags
red
one
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i turned left into the forest but not much is clear after that. there was a whistling in the background and the birds began to shudder in the air, with cluttered wings and hurried, lilted coos. the crows circled and the deers puckered up and flickered away. i saw flashes: teeth like the whites of my eyes, veined with lightning cracks of red. a shaking of the forest ground. the moon...
Anonymous asked: BUTTS lol :)
2 tags
5 tags
{inure}
we’re all wasting away into this tiny vein of regret and all we can see is everyone we did not become but that’s okay because our tongues slither like snakes and shiver like ghosts but ghosts don’t realize how cold they actually are and ghosts lie to themselves and forget the colors of their eyes and while you’re lying and i’m drinking, everyone else is trying...
lifeisbetterincolour asked: When did you start writting poetry and how do you deal with writer's block?
5 tags
all these places i've been
once, i holed up at the bottom of the ocean. i ate seaweed and drank cocktails of dolphin blood and salt water. i ripped off the shiny bright scales of fish and used the rope i found in the sunken ship to weave myself a necklace. i sharpened the heads of swordfish and fought off the sharks and whales who wanted to make me their own and later nestled under blankets of thick blubber and twined...
It's happened.
wildflowerveins:
wildflowerveins:
I’ve officially put up a donation button on my blog. It’s on the very bottom of the page and it’s pretty small. I’d really appreciate any sort of donation because I need to pay my tuition and the job I have currently is not going to be enough.
If you ever liked a piece of my writing and you’ve got a dollar to spare, a donation would be greatly appreciated.
...
5 tags
fiona
she wonders why the sea is dark and angry between dusk and dawn and one day after she sees a boy walk in with regret tied to his feet like cinderblocks, she knows. he had pebbles for eyes and forever bleeding lips, his teeth were chipped and he had fragile, delicate fingers. he was 15. fiona kept secrets under her tongue like posion and she laced her words with it, until they all came out as...
Anonymous asked: Any advice for writing blogs to gain followers?
Anonymous asked: Don't be grateful darling, you are wonderful and talented, you deserve every pair of eyes which ghost your work. x
6 tags
lush
Could be market-bound for days -flowers falling in petal lack sixteen for ten and I have nine-fifty in my wallet looking for a petal-perfect Vendor tells me /yes-beautiful-she’s-lucky/ and I nod cause why ruin it conventions - keep it all surface weather through the /hello -good-weekend how-work is fine/ I accepted Divine into my heart after glorius sings of His...
2 tags
Anonymous asked: How do you write so much
so i hit a thousand followers. in five months.
i don’t think you understand how grateful i am.
Anonymous asked: I like your latest story
5 tags
mismatched thoughts
i’ve been killing people ever since i was born. they say it was child birth that killed her, but i know my mother died because she was scared to bring me into the world, something that vomited blood and made her crave goose feathers.
when i was three, my father died and i killed him because i didn’t do anything. he choked on a lamb bone and i tried to feed him my mushed potatoes and carrots to...
5 tags
cheap plastic bracelets.
some days i do too much and some days i do nothing at all and some days i lie still and quiet and breathe in air and feel my hair rocking back and forth with the beat of my heart. i onced pick pocketed on the subway. this man was playing a game on his iphone and when he got up, i snuck my hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. a beautiful boy across from me smirked and his eyes flickered...
5 tags
x. first
It’s sharper than she expected. Her hands were shaky when the girl with the short skirt and red lips handed her the Poland Spring bottle filled not quite halfway with coconut Ciroc, the vodka you see in movies and music videos.
She only contributed three dollars towards it but ends up with the biggest bottle. The rest of them, they down it fast and the change is immediate, their laughter is a...
6 tags
rust
my mother’s name is funeral in arabic and i need to stop writing about these children, with 20 cent lollipops in their mouths that kick around deflated soccer balls and scratch at the pink dots of mosquito bites on their legs but i can’t because they haunt me, these kids, ghosts that trickle into my dreams, slip in like smoke and cling to the back of my eyes until all i can see is...
7 tags
summer doesn't come anymore - 3
part 3
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it’s been a day, a week, a month, a year, but these stories are immortalized in your mind: 1. never trust a girl with lips redder than her blood. 2. do not forget, the faye cannot lie. 3. people often see ghosts where memories hide. - lousia’s mother, anna was a pre-school teacher who donated 10% of her earnings to charities and said holy grace before each meal. she never wanted...
5 tags
daughters
this cat gave birth in our front porch this morning and i am wide awake in love these children that are dusted with sand and have little bits of morocco ingrained into their skin. they have inherited their grandmother’s butterfly fingertips and see the world with cleaner eyes than you can even imagine. last night, while i was saying goodbye, rumisa started crying and an old woman i barely know...
5 tags
notes
yellow teeth that gradually blacken as they reach the roots and swollen red gums, ashy bare legs and tan sun whipped shoulders. thick black eyelashes the girls wear their hair down, loose and sweaty and dusted with sand and sticky bits of yogurt. there are three children in the house: rumisa who is 4, doesnt speak much and was never potty trained because there was never a potty to train her....
to the person who just donated to me:
thank you so so so so so so so so so so so so so so much.
1 tag
why does no one talk to me ever and why cant i buy nice clothing and why am i always broke forever r and why am i breaking out and why cant i even write anymore and why do i have to read the great gatsby which from the first chapter seems so fucking boring ugh
and of course why do i have to pay this stupid fucking tuition with money that i dont have ugh will 8k just mysteriously appear buried in...
a couple of secrets.
i. dusk
there’s this small boy that sits outside our house sometimes and waits for nothing. he will occasionally pilfer through our garbage and casually eat the greasy leftovers from last night’s couscous or chicken. his fingers are small and quick and he is the color of a plastic wood table. he has the longest eyelashes i’ve ever seen and his eyes are the color of melted chocolate.
he never...
5 tags
three
when you were sixteen, your mother sat you down and she was crying and you were worried like someone had died and her voice was shuddering and cracked and she said your father, her husband wasn’t actually your father. you felt something in your throat choke up a little, mostly shock and she just kept going, like this horrible river of lies that she had maintained for 16 years. “i met...
7 tags
summer doesn't come anymore - 3
part 3
-
it’s been a day, a week, a month, a year, but these stories are immortalized in your mind: 1. never trust a girl with lips redder than her blood. 2. do not forget, the faye cannot lie. 3. people often see ghosts where memories hide. - lousia’s mother, anna was a pre-school teacher who donated 10% of her earnings to charities and said holy grace before each meal. she never wanted...
It's happened.
wildflowerveins:
I’ve officially put up a donation button on my blog. It’s on the very bottom of the page and it’s pretty small. I’d really appreciate any sort of donation because I need to pay my tuition and the job I have currently is not going to be enough.
If you ever liked a piece of my writing and you’ve got a dollar to spare, a donation would be greatly appreciated.
hey i’m an...
7 tags
Autumn
I hide my dreams in the kingdom of your laugh lines. But the night has no face and I never could read yours. Understanding is a luxury and I am a peasant: Darling, but this I know I find truth in the things you refuse to say and cover my ears with scared rabbit-paw thumps because the words snake in like smoke and cling to parts of me I like to keep pure. Pure as angel whispers. Protect me, love,...
how old do you guys think i am?
how about you guys ask me lots and lots of...
i really love how i literally got no messages.
how about you guys ask me lots and lots of...
6 tags
morning
submitting this to a contest, would appreciate any criticism via my ask box. :]
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he woke to the sound of birds carving into his chest, painting a picture with only their beaks and his blood and it reminded him of those blind-deaf artists who have no arms, gritting teeth marks into the smooth plastic glossed wood of a paintbrush, twirling it with their tongues like cigarettes or roses except ...
so i was reading the first two chapters of this novel i wrote for nano two years ago and god damn, all i can think is why in the fuck did i believe that it was okay to write that shit.
i dont think i’ve ever been on anyone’s crush list ever in the universe never.
5 tags
elena
you’re in a car with a beautiful boy and he’s telling you all these things you don’t want to hear about change and time and space and you are pushed back to 11th grade physics and murphy’s law and how when all of this even started you knew that because something can go wrong, it will and you get this feeling in your throat like you need to swallow something but you can’t and it’s just stuck, this...
fuck how tumblr isn't telling me about even half...
Amber
She wears ripped-up fishnets and has bruises spilling down her ribs like ink. she grew up in the city where the moon wears its wounds proudly for all to see, hanging low over the sky like a scar. Amber’s mother did not love her and did not pretend to, wearing her disdain with a grin. some families just screw you up; Amber’s family fucked her up good. her mother used to pour herself a gin...
The people who messaged me for the Moroccan wood burning, can you message me again? I want to make a list of everyone who’s interested so I can go to the Medina tomorrow and buy the wood. Tumblr erased all my messages so I don’t have any of your names.
6 tags
a couple of secrets.
i. Dusk
There’s this small boy that sits outside our house sometimes and waits for nothing. He will occasionally pilfer through our garbage and casually eat the greasy leftovers from last night’s couscous or chicken. His fingers are small and quick and his skin is the color of oak wood or a fawn’s downy coat. He has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen and his iris’ are like melted...
3 tags
Go follow this person now seriously do it.
mykingsinthebackrow.
she’s like a breathe of fresh air in the tumblr writing world. she’s virtually unknown but all of her stuff is like, as I said on writersbloc, having the freezing, december in new york cold truth sewed into your skin.
i don’t promo very often (read: ever) but if you don’t follow, you’re really missing out.
one.
i. you’ll die a martyr, darling. she sucks in her cigarette and flicks grey ash onto the linoleum floor. “you’ll be okay right? you’ll come back?” he’s beautiful in a fitted uniform, combat boots and buzz cut hair. he bends and his lips taste like smothered anger and coffee grounds. “i’ll be back. close your eyes, sleep and i’ll be back in the morning” the door slams on his way out. ii. nobody...
It's happened.
I’ve officially put up a donation button on my blog. It’s on the very bottom of the page and it’s pretty small. I’d really appreciate any sort of donation because I need to pay my tuition and the job I have currently is not going to be enough.
If you ever liked a piece of my writing and you’ve got a dollar to spare, a donation would be greatly appreciated.
Would you like a quote of poetry burned into a...
Part Two of ‘Get Money For Tuition’ is selling something that’s relatively easy for me to make!
Right now, I’m going to be making to order a round or square shaped piece of glossy wood bought and made in the boisterous Medina shopping center in Rabat, Morocco, with a quote of your favorite poem burned into it.
You can pick a quote of your own writing or a quote of mine, if you like. :]
Message...
