Conscious. The one friend that knows everything about me.

He knows what are my deepest desires, and my darkest insecurities.
He knows what makes me fall, and what makes me drown.
He knows what makes me keep me up at night, developing a friendship
with Insomnia.

He knows the memories buried deep within my mind, knowing
which one makes me teary eyed, and ones that kills me, inside.
He knows the regrets I wish didn't happen, eating me away, to...

james, what will you do when you grow strong and tall?
i want to write music they'll play in the mall. 

and you, darling macy? what is your dream?
to fly in space and eat freeze-dried ice cream!

miss gracie, tell me, dear, what do you want?
a houseful of kids that will all call me mom.

well, dearest children, i admire your dreams!
we need mothers, explorers, people who sing. 
when i was much younger, i wanted to write.  ...

He flourished on a signature capability that I myself had always taken for granted. To look at him, you would not have thought my father, with his sun-worn eyes and rain-tousled skin, the kind of man to be anything but a straw-biting farmer. 

And yet. 

I had never once seen my father open a book, unless you (and I did not) count the farmer's almanac as a book. No, he was not the literary type, but what he could read...

You burn my ear, graze my skin, hot. The hair on my neck raises with the bumps that cover my skin.
I hear you now, and yet the world remains silent. The familiar mint scent should be cold. Your whispers mask the ice, but cannot contain the chill running down my spine. Those same whispers cause the burning inside my ear, spilling to graze my skin. But my hands, they turn to ice. I sense yours encompassing my own. My...

You burn my ear, graze my skin, hot. The hair on my neck raises with the bumps that cover my skin. I can hear you, and yet the world is silent. The familiar mint scent should be cold. Your whispers mask the ice, but cannot contain the chill running down my spine. Those same whispers cause the burning inside my ear, spilling to graze my skin. But my hands, they turn to ice. I feel yours encompass my own. My...

love, take my hand and show me
the world in your eyes, cover mine
hide me from the monsters, mauled
skin, yellow, slitted eyes and shark
teeth, leathery skin, hiding in the 
shadows to dig their metal claws into 
my soft skin, (muscle, sinew, bone,) 
blood peeking out of gouges in my 
small arms, red mixing with the 
blue night air, cold trespassing, 
slow, calculated steps, light and 
barely heard, on the balls of his
feet, he creeps into my...

I asked you to forgive me
I asked you to forget the past

We don’t have time for sadness,
I said and drew you from your seat

But even in my dream
That lingering sense of self loathing I carry
Followed me
As we hugged and greeted
Like we were close friends unparted

And I asked
Are you upset?
Maybe hoping you would say no
That you would forgive like you always have

I’m frustrated you said
And I nodded...

That song that made me weep was simple and sweet and sad. I put it on repeat and cried along to its beat.
It was a feeling of discomfort so great that no matter what I said or did there was no relief. I threw myself on the ground and tried to beat the pain into the floor that I was crumpled over. But there was no relief from the settling of empty want in my gut.
I wanted to...

Light on your feet
Stand closer to me
I want no distance between us
As we dance to the same beat

The faltering in my smile
From the quiver of the bass
Playing deep in my chest
Will be put to rest
When you raise your eyebrows
Ask me what’s wrong
Let’s not stop, I say

We move through the crowd
You with practiced ease
Grabbing my hand
Casually
Every time,
From behind I admire your dress

Watching you dance ...

We swam uphill through waving grass blades that cut our skin into diverse factions of body mass
Eyelashes blink-slow motion in wind rolling off our face, send our hair tumbling around our shoulders
Is there a soundtrack for what we are at the moment? No?

Eyes trace horizon back and forth and once again. Arms raise till one-hundred-eighty degrees
Parallel to the ground were there a plane extending from the point contiguous to feet, touch dirt- soil
The grain of...

she plays with lenses
teases waxing crescent
waxes erotic, so her lover
can shine enviously as
lust, for him,
is only a sunset

     Uncapitalized like the name of a lesser known city mistaken for a misspelt word. I wave to you from where I sit smiling out at cloudy cities and moving cars. From a hundred miles and years away (before our time, even) you wave out from the kitchen window of the old house and call me in.
     Do you remember when I used to play dress up and I sat and watched you make scrapbooks of me...

this is my eternity:

trees hauling the heavy air like a stooped atlas
and poisoned california sky, rocks breaking through bleached
grass like desperate fingers reaching from a frosted 
ocean. wooden obelisks strung with bent wire trace this 
writhing world, and the hills climb from the
desolate grassland like steepled
hands praying, reaching for the unfathomed blue.

we're all reaching out here. telephone
pole crosses and praying hills, a
stooped atlas with begging knees and
bent back, and how we grasp at...

I was sittin' there by myself
On the cold, broken floor
Left alone by the wind
I was dreamin' bout the things that I wanted to accomplish 

Thinkin’ back to yesterday, I wish I knew
Never to just sit there and dream
Dreamin’ is not a waste
But it's not so great

Cause if you get up
Change your dreams to goals
Then you’ll rise up
Soon comes victory

Think about your people, maybe even your Idol (Get up Get...

I was sittin' there by myself
On the cold, broken floor
Left alone by the wind
I was dreamin' bout the things that I wanted to accomplish

Thinkin’ back to yesterday, I wish I knew
Never to just sit there and dream
Dreamin’ is not a waste
But it's not so great

Cause if you get up
Change your dreams to goals
Then you’ll rise up
Soon comes victory

Think about your people, maybe even your Idol (Get up Get...

Here is a link to the final recording of this if you want to listen!
https://soundcloud.com/katelivewire/anomaly-final-write-the-world-submission/s-qo6rq
    
                             
I wonder how our feelings grow
Ain't it strange
The places our thoughts can go
Outer space
Wondering what path 
I should take
It's strange to think about

Right now I hate reality
And this life
I'm trying hard not to repeat
Things twice
But mistakes keep...

i feel like the user-hosted contests thing has died out by now, but i missed the trend, so here i am. i'm going to leave a fairly long comment on every piece that's going to be entered, and there will be three winners and a couple of honorable mentions if i see fit. also, i'm going to republish this a lot so lots of people can see it, so if you keep seeing it on the dashboard and it's annoying...

http://ss14.onlinevideoconverter.com/download?file=a0h7h7g6c2e4h7
Audio file (though not sure if it is accesible as I used a video to audio file converter?)

Verse 1
Little one, do I have a story to tell you
Where bigger hands reach, they stretch farther than the moon
There’s dialogue, it sounds so blah, though you’ll understand it soon
When the sunshine parts, the wrinkles start—oh they start to bloom
...They bloom...

Verse 2
The plot, it starts, as your dad parts says “It won’t be long” ...

    I remember the dry heat, it was calmer compared to the humid heat that one associates with the East coast. It was one of my family's many trips to Colorado, my folk's home state. Knowing all the nooks and crannies that a tourist wouldn't. My mom continuously gripping the wheel with iron fists, while driving up the Million Dollar highway. Even with her fear, the site at the top is worth it. You have to drive that narrow highway...

Love to hate
 
Red roses, who could have guessed that? What an original. How has no one ever thought of this before? Of course, roses are the perfectgift for a date! I need to calm down. He’s doing his best. It’s supposed to be sweet. Everything about Matthew is supposed to be sweet. He is always dressed up for dates, always has some small gift. He opens doors for me, ensures I am comfortable. Everything about him is...

White-grey clouds blanket the sky, hiding the sun from view. Thunder grumbles like an old man with arthritis. Rain drops fall steadily, soaking everything below and drumming a steady tune on the roof. Streams rush by, their gentle pace increased by the large water drops disrupting their smooth surfaces. Birds fluff their damp feathers, watching from beneath dripping leaves. Forest creatures hide in their burrows, licking the moisture from their coats. Pasture animals head for their barns, shaking the water...

when i was younger i
gave myself claws—
scratched a friend
up to the armpit
because he made me
mad—he said he was
better than me; worse,
that i did not make him
afraid.  i have always
been like a waterfall—
starts fast until it
freezes, makes mist
in the air, and one can
stare and wonder if it still
falls, if it has yet to
touch the ground (as
to that, i cannot be 
sure).  now people are
wintry, and...

The mother -
Newborn’s cry. Consistently. I can feel the weight of the bags under my eyes as Johnathan throws the blanket back with a sigh. 4:02 am. I don’t move. It’s not something I do much these days. People don’t understand how exhausting it is, trying to pull your limbs through six feet of grief. That’s what the therapist called it. Grief.  I keep telling myself it shouldn’t be like this; I shouldn’t be like this. He was so...

 Dust gathered on a single grandfather clock that stood tall in the corner of the room. It was raining outside and the moon shone bright through the cottage windows. The dull ring from the clock prompted the arrival of midnight. Bee awoke in a cold sweat. “Well... fancy that” he mumbled under his breath as he hopped out of bed and shuffled his small feet into his fuzziest pair of slippers. “Just as I fall asleep... poof! It’s midnight!” He...

    I remember the dry heat, it was calmer compared to the humid heat that one associates with the east coast. It was one of my family's many trips to Colorado, my folk's home state. Knowing all the nooks and crannies that a tourist wouldn't. My mom continuously gripping the wheel with iron fists, while driving up the Million Dollar highway. Even with her fear, the site at the top is worth it. You have to drive that narrow highway...