My living hands dance without my body. They are composing a symphony, while I stare at the dead flies decomposing on my windowsill. The eulogy enshrined in my memory of tomorrow is disembodied, as clinical as biology. 

When we die we are placed in a box. Mine better be beautiful, like heaven, because I hate being a corpse. I hate that my stubborn humanity will keep me from the earth.

If you stare long enough at an abstract painting, you will begin to see yourself in every illogical curve. I was listening to Elliot Smith this morning when I realized a simple truth, being sad is beautiful. But so is being happy, angry, tired. We are beautiful because we augment our curves, whether they be smiles or frowns. Even Cubist paintings are two dimensional; with a foreground and a background, held together by tension, by poignant harmony and discord.  

Do you remember when you left
all those years ago?
We said our goodbyes in the summer.
When the flowers started to grow.
I gave you a hug
before you said goodbye.
You hugged me back,
telling me neither of us should cry.
Then you opened my hand
and put this in it.
That was a moment
that I can't forget.

A simple blue heart.
I think it's made out of clay.
Not a locket, but
we thought of it...

i like to think that i will become the kind of person that i would be entranced by
let me explain
i hope to look strange enough to spark interest in my brain, to wonder where this person came from
i wonder what their name is
what are they doing here?
where are they going?
do they like coffee? or do they prefer a cup of tea?
i would admire their makeup
or maybe their clothes
and i would wish  ...

cucaya is the rice at 
the bottom of the pot
that's soaked through
with vegetable oil. 

my mom says it's the best
'cause it's the rice that's
gone through the most,
but, she says wistfully
i can see why you like the
fluffy white stuff better. 

I just now realized that I gained 3 more followers! I'm at 17 now! I truly don't understand what I did to deserve. Thank you so very much. I don't know what you see in my writing, but it means a lot to me. Learning to write has been quiet the experience, and Write the World has taught me so much. I am so happy to see 17 other people as passionate as me. Words cannot describe how much I...

When sunlight turns liquid, like laughter, we watch ourselves fall into the river. Our souls are bubbly and unbreakable, unbound by time. I think freedom is overvalued. And just like Gold, there is nothing that brings us more unstable ecstasy.
 

    "Mom? Dad? Are we safe here?" Tom says in a very concerned baby voice. "We are fine, Tommy. We're just playing a small game here, ok?" Dad says while gently brushing Tom's hair with his fingers.
    "Whoever is the last to leave the basement gets a treat from me for Rita's!" Mom says with a weak smile. We all have a nervous laugh, thinking the same thing. Will we be even alive by then? Nicole gets out her phone and...

    I woke up around 6:00 a.m today. It was unusual. I had always been one to sleep in if given the chance. Today was a "snow day". Such nostalgic 2 words. When I woke up, the sun reflected off the snow and somehow the light filtered though it in a blue shade. And so, I found myself in bed, one foot sticking out of the blanket, startled by the silence, my room tinted to be a dramatic, cool...

.
iv.
in the hall tucked on the
side of the gym, i was sitting against the wall with my
homework in my lap whe he sat down in front of me
(i didn't hear him coming i had my earbuds in) and asked for
my time. so i closed my notebook, and took out my earbuds and he
talked as i looked at his eyes. and he talked as his eyes watched mine and the wall and the floor
and the lights...