Sunday, April 30, 2017

There is something satisfying in the crack of a finger.

If words could explain it, I'd write them.
But there are no words.
It merely is.

There is a certain satisfaction that comes with brandishing yourself.

If nothing else, it's salaciously humorous.
To watch them bite back their tongues.
But they asked for it.

There is nothing more painful than bending back a finger.

Some might say a migraine, a third-degree burn, perhaps as far as a bullet wound.
But a little shock can make the world of a difference in practice.
With fingers, there is just enough pain at the threshold.

There is nothing in the world more humiliating than brandishing yourself.

To have all of their eyes ravenously studying your innermost self.
Scrutinizing your parts like an open clock on a table.
But you have a point to prove.

So you give away little pieces of yourself each time, hoping it won't hurt next time.

But they take more than you brandish; they bend back your fingers.
All you can do is hope you're proving your point.
The pain is your statement.

Is it worth it?

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Like I Do?

Do you know death?
Has he breathed his foggy breath in your ears?
Did you recognize the smell of the attic?
Did his dusty demeanor make you sneeze?
I know I did.
He sits behind me in the family portrait.
It gathers dust on the mantlepiece. I beg.
And there's nothing I can do to ignore...
There was a knock.
It was against my ribs. The low moan
Like the bloat was weeping again.
He coddled my new flesh as it bubbled like soap.
Midnight the clock trilled.
The cleansing was fleeting; quiet but not lonely.
It was a total repression, regression; born into Death.
He was everything- in totality, a mother, but
He was a stranger.
He does not smell like rot. He is not bone.
He does not wear a shroud. He was not alone.
You went with him that day. He was not for me.
He was not in my head.
He is the face of my mother. He is the hands of my father.
He speaks in tongues only I can decipher.
He is a beginning, breathing slower than Death.
He entered my Life.
He is not to be mistaken for Greed - his eyes are flat brass.
And his strange disposition will turn one blue.
But when he took you away, that was the Death. The Black.
He stole your Light.

He made me dead.

I'm Too Lazy To Think Of A Good Movie Pun...

...So Here's My Word Count Wednesday!

What I'm Working On
I'm definitely still working on my Spectra series, have no fear! It has not been abandoned yet. I just don't want to put out my next installment for a little bit because it's a bit risky right now. I might end up having to go back and change something later, so to spare you the confusion, I'm putting the installments on pause for a few days until I have a solid idea of where I want the story to go right now.

Word Count: 3500

How I Feel About The Process
Oh my god, it's slow going. I'm in the process of switching jobs, so most of my time has been dedicated to balancing them both while I wait for my two weeks to be up. I haven't been able to write much at all, but I get a few hundred words in here and there.

What I'm Reading Right Now
I was reading The Rule Of Thought by James Dashner, but I was an idiot and left my book someplace while I was out and now I can't find it. Oh well, good thing the local library has a couple copies! So I switched books, and I'm now reading A Wrinkle In Time by Madeline L'Engle.


Sunday, April 16, 2017


"[...]But all they want to do 
is tie the poem to a chair with rope 
and torture a confession out of it. 

They begin beating it with a hose 
to find out what it really means."
- Billy Collins, "Introduction to Poetry" 

'It's not in your typical fashion', say you.
Well, good sir, kindly explain!
I'd very much like you to
Pick apart my very brain!

You see, I am alone with my thoughts
More than you are with me
So, you have said more than you ought
To have- a bit tongue in cheek

And if you ask me - which I am -
Me. I am me, not you,
'What is your typical fashion?'
I would reply: 'What do I do?'

To which, accordingly, say you:
'A poet, of course, by any other name,
A lyricist, and a novelist, too,
If you liken each the same'

In turn, I would scoff
And ruffle my hair,
'My dear friend, did I not ask you,
what I don't and dare?'

To which, being your witty self,
You would respond with a smile,
'You apply yourself to bookshelves,
Is that not your style?'

'My fine fellow, indeed I do,
But you're missing the mark,
You did ask me, untrue,
A statement of remark?'

''Tis not your typical fashion' 
Say you! Not who or why
Twas a claim, my disposition,
Did fancy your mind's eye!

A poet is not 'do', 
Despite your quick retort,
A poet is 'who'
Or 'how' of sorts!

'Oh, I should have never spoke'
Say you, cheeks puffed so red!
'A poet will choke
Every word till they're dead!'

And I, with great breath
Might liken a smile,
'Now, which to the death?
The poet or the style?'

Ears alight with frenzy 
You counter my drawl,
'Tis you who has slain me!
The poet brings death to us all!'

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Spectra - Installment 5

Chapter 2
I know the drive to the cabin better than I know the back of my hand. Having visited every summer since the third grade, and recently taking weekend vacations every couple of months, the trip has become second nature. It’s a bit of a drive to the forest, but it only takes a couple of hours at most if you take the backroads. Needless to say, the drive was pretty much effortless, physically and socially. It was muscle memory of the brain and body.
“Hey, Luca,” Alice said, leaning over the middle console of the front seat, “Don’t you think we should get some gas, soon? We’re only at about a half a tank, and the closest station to the cabin is six miles out.”
I smiled. Alice always knew best.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll stop at the next one.”
A half tank of gas and twenty bucks later, we were driving deep within the woods of Wenatchee National Forest. We were blasting My Chemical Romance and singing along nearly as loud. It always happened this way with us. Sobe might have felt hesitant before - afraid of being the third wheel - but the fact of the matter was we were a tricycle. If one of the wheels were gone, then what was the point?
My suspicions were confirmed when Sobe leaned in between Alice and I, smiling wider than a cat.
“Man, I’m so glad you two dorks dragged me along. It’s been a while since I let loose like this.”
She shook her hair in front of her face as Frank started wailing on the guitar over the car's stereo. I couldn’t help but watch her orange fringe whip across the pinks of her cheeks. It was a pleasing sound, coupled with the music. It was like they belonged together.
It was then that I understood why people preferred different types of music. Watching her dance made me realize that you don’t choose music. Music is made for you. It jives with your wavelengths, you know? And Sobe’s wavelength was set to early 2000’s emo rock. The shit was ancient, but it never stopped being good.
I was lost in the sound of Sobe’s frequencies when Alice tensed. She turned down the radio and looked at me, her brown eyes practically sending me into shock.
“Something’s wrong,” she said carefully, scanning the horizon.
I refocused my full attention to the road, attentively scanning the trees. She was right. Something was wrong. The trees - that normally emitted thrumming, earthly vibes as they blurred by - were freckled with white noise. Something was coming toward us from the woods... and fast.
I skidded to a stop just in time to watch a pack of wild, white wolves pass directly in front of our windshield, howling as they crossed. Their frequencies blurred across my vision, their snow-white fur shrieking in my ears. Alice and I hid our eyes in our elbows, waiting for the pack to pass. I could see nothing, and all I could hear beside the occasional thump of a tail against the bumper was the quick, liquid beating of my own heart. The two sounded about the same anyway.
Some time had passed before Sobe spoke up, her voice trembling.
“Okay. Okay wow. Alright guys, you can look now. They’re gone.”
When I chanced a glance in her direction to make sure she was okay, her face was pale and her violet eyes were fed with tears. It hurt to look at, physically and emotionally, but I pulled her into a hug anyway, burying her face into chest.
“It’s okay, Sobes. We’re just lucky Alice caught that in time. I didn’t even notice until she said something.”
I removed Sobe from my chest and pulled in Alice in her place. She was shaking, but I knew she was okay. Alice had nerves of steel.
I asked anyway, “Are you okay baby?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed, pulling herself back into her seat, “I’ve got nerves of steel."
I smiled at that, and rested my head against my seat, closing my eyes. I focused on my breathing, listening to the sound of absence. When my heart had finished it’s little episode, I did another perimeter check. Satisfied that no more demon dogs lurked in the wooden beyond, I began to close the remaining distance between us and the cabin. Despite us being a bit shaken, the rest of the ride was smooth. Alice turned the radio back up, just maybe not quite so loud this time, and it began to melt away. Things like that happen all the time in the backcountry, right? Us city-dwellers just weren't used to it.
The only caveat to our good time, however, was Sobe. I could understand, seeing as we just had a run in with death, but something was off. I’ve seen Sobe high off her ass, doing doughnuts in the school parking lot. She’d jump off the Space Needle if she knew somebody would catch her. This shouldn’t have been a problem.
Alice fell asleep about twenty minutes after the fact - probably a side-effect of the anxiety spike. I turned down the radio to let her sleep in peace. Sobe, however, didn’t protest. Something was definitely up. I took a peak in the back and saw her on her phone, texting away. She looked so… intense.
“Hey, Sobes,” I began softly, not wanting to wake the angel in my passenger seat, “Everything alright?”
She looked up from her phone and nodded her head.
“Yeah, I’m okay Luca. Just texting my mom to let her know I’m okay.”
I nodded back.
“Alright. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I gotta make sure I take good care of my girls.”
“Hey, bud, get with the picture. It’s 2065. Women in 2065 don’t need no man to take care of them.”
She snapped her fingers in a cliche “z-formation”, a smirk lighting itself up across her face. There’s my best friend.
“Okay, okay. Shit, got a classic Susan B. Anthony over here,” I joked, smiling at her in the rear-view mirror. She laughed.
I was just starting to feel more at ease when her phone buzzed. She promptly fell quiet again, typing out a lengthy message. The state of practical Nirvana I had reached was shattered, as her fingers flew wildly across the screen. She usually used voice-to-text anyway. Why was she being so reserved? Was she trying to spare my feelings? It wasn’t even my fault. I mean, I guess I should have been wearing my chroma-glasses, but who honestly wears those outside of class anyway? The world sounded beautiful when you weren't trying to take an exam. Still, I wanted to know what was up with her. Just to be sure.
“Jesus Christ, are you writing a novel or something?” I chanced at humor, adding a small chuckle at the end to make it sound less harsh than I meant. It still sounded accusative, and I knew I screwed up the instant I said it. However, what came out of her mouth next took me by surprise.
“How did you and Alice know the wolves were coming?”
If I faltered, I tried not to let it show.

“What do you mean? We heard them. I mean, I guess I don’t expect you to understand. It is kind of a- y’know, an us thing. But if you want me to expla-”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
She was silent for the rest of the drive. I didn’t want to push her. She was already someplace over the edge. Where, exactly, I didn’t know. I just hoped she’d come around before the weekend was up. It’s one thing being a tricycle with two wheels, but a tricycle with a flat tire is just as useless.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

What's It Called...

What's it called...
When you feel like you're being pulled from every direction at once?
Like Gravity placed its center at your core,
Then decided down wasn't actually down anymore?

My Gravity pushes things away.
If there were things, that is. It's easy to get lost in a Void.
I figure, if everything is nothing,
Why bother trying to orient yourself? Isn't it all just the same?

I can't say I didn't try.
But the endless expanse of gray purgatory was a Void, nevertheless.
And I was right in one sense.
Left in another. Everything is nothing. Down isn't actually down.

And whenever I'd speak,
My words would stick to the back of my throat like sickness.
The Gray was choking.
It was heavy, like the words were my core.

How is a universe born?
Is it conceived in a celestial womb? Or is it just gray
Until it isn't anymore?
Does it choke itself out of existence when it's done?

The thought smothers. Perpetuates.
Now there's nothing here except me and the weight of nothing.
The pressure bursting
Inside, the light is pulsing, but liquid blood still beats.

Am I dying?
Or is this Death? Surely this can't be Life if I'm wasting away.
Tidal forces with The Unknown;
It is my satellite; in The Gray, it looks like Promise.

But how can I be sure?
There is no Horizon, there is no moon by which to pray.
There are no stars to wish.
I am only. Surely this can't be Life.

I make my own Horizon.
I break The Gray into two halves: one gray and the other just.
And I become The Center.
I now lay someplace between the middle and the median.

Liquid blood like tides.
There is a fascination with The Unknown it ebbs toward.
It is shy; The Gray intimidates,
But is it simply foolish? Or is it Promise?

Wednesday, April 12, 2017


... What do you mean that only counts as one word!

What I'm Working On
I've been continuing with my Spectra installments! I have one more lined up for this weekend, the only issue is, I have yet to write the next. I've been so incredibly busy. I'm actively job hunting at the moment because my job has turned out to be less than satisfactory, so I've been dedicating all of my time to that. Not to mention mid-terms! But, luckily, I have thrown in some poems here and there, so I'm not at a flat zero this week!
(I also might be writing another song)

Word Count: 201

How I Feel About The Process
It's been pretty okay! I've been utilizing my boyfriend quite a bit this past week with my poems and songwriting, so give a round of applause to him. He's been the biggest help EVER!

What I'm Reading Right Now
I actually just finished The Eye of Minds by James Dashner. It was pretty alright! I'm very excited to read the next two installments.

A spoonful of sugar helps the crippling anxiety go down!
      -Mary "Grades-Be-Droppin" Poppins

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Coffee Shop Love Poem

You're my favorite coffee shop.
You're jazz music over crackling speakers.
You're a warm fireplace, crackling with the speakers.
You're lemon cake in a glass display,
the enticement of the dripping glaze.
You're the appeal of a leather chair.
You're the scent of a burnt brew,
quickly blown out the window.
You're the brown floors and damasked wallpaper.
You're the varnish that echoes.
You're wrought iron and the wooden clock,
the pendulum that reaps the time.
You're the peeling paintings hanging on the wall.
You're the sound of the city behind glass.
You're the yellow lighting, the warm sun,
the curtains that smell faintly of dust.
You're the crosswords, the old books,
the careless exchange of a regular.
You are the brew, the steep, the pour, the sip.
You are the tongue burnt, the tongue soothed,
the foam that crests the porcelain cup.
You are the stained glass, the stained tables,
the lipstick stain on the mug.
You take things slow, you take things in.
You waft to the senses, you are carefully crafted.
You smile into cups, a nose shrouded in steam,
fogged glasses and pink cheeks.
You are the invitation, the temptation,
another world with an open door.

Spectra - Installment 4

Chapter 2

Isobel was tailing me to my locker, her lips moving faster than the speed of sound.
“Okay, but dude, get this - I was like, eight feet away from the Verisphydon, getting ready to administer the K.O. blow, and this level fifteen steps in and fuckin’ thwaps him with his twig of a sword and gets the kill! I about threw my VR headset into the wall!”
She made a gesture with her arms that resembled a bird of prey taking to the sky after a successful catch. A puff of air escaped her lips and blew her bangs from her face, exasperation dripping off of her like sweat. I struggled with my lock as she lingered behind me.
“Yeah, man. It’s not like the Verisphydon is an easy boss, either. It must’ve taken you at least twenty minutes to beat him down, only to have some normie steal all the drops and experience.”
She clapped me on the shoulder.
“See? Somebody gets it.” She laughed, a shock of orange hair falling into the corner of her mouth, “You just get it, man”.
I smiled into my locker and fumbled around for my anatomy textbook.
Sobe* was great. We’d been best friends for what seemed like forever. Her and I had such similar interests it was even a little bit scary at times. We were both gamers, had a disdain for competitive sports, and read books like it was nobody’s business. Ironically, Belle and I actually hated each other when we first met in freshman year. Our relationship was a constant battle of one-ups. If I happened to score better than her on an essay, she’d manage to find some way to debunk my best arguments. If she solved the most difficult equation on the board, I would do the next one in half the time it took her to do the first. If she was a level 89 trickster rogue, I would grind all night to be a level 91 scion by morning. If I got the most beautiful girl in the school to be my girlfriend... well she was still working on that one.
It wasn’t until our junior year that we finally laid down our arms and came to a truce. When we learned that we were both shooting for the same university, we figured it would be much more advantageous to conquer the campus as a team. We realized that the constant competition was tiresome, and we actually enjoyed each other’s presence. From then on, our friendship was fated.
The only thing about Isobel that I couldn’t seem to shake was the color of her eyes. The violet of her irises was so pure, that I couldn’t look her in the eyes for more than a few seconds at a time; they practically screamed at me. It made conversation a little difficult, but we managed to work around it. Before she learned I was a Chromat, she was a bit offended by my evasiveness, but she understood once I told her. She said that it happened quite a lot, and she wasn’t about to blame me for it. We just learned to carry on as normally as possible with minimal direct eye contact. It was a bit weird to observe in the third person, but neither of us had a problem with it.
I snatched my textbook from underneath a pile of forgotten graded papers and amateur doodles of Alice. I grabbed a pair of chroma-glasses from the small box at the top of my locker. Slamming it shut and triggering the lock, I spoke into the metal.
“Hey, Alice and I are planning on going up to the cabin this weekend. Wanna join?”
Sobe cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, her left hip popping out past her knee. She did that when the sarcasm inherently programmed within her couldn’t contain itself.
“Yeah, because I wanna subject myself to the torture of laying in the next room listening to you two fucking like a couple of neanderthals.”
I scoffed and punched her in the arm a little bit harder than I meant.
“Dude! That was one time,” I whined, regretting having hit her so hard and rubbing her arm vigorously with my free hand, “And besides, this time will be different. I bought a couple of new VR movies that seemed really good in the trailer. We’ll just be chilling in the lounge all night getting scared out of our skivvies.”
She smirked, punching me back.
“You had me until the skivvies part. I’d quite like to keep mine on, thank you. I usually prefer one partner at a time.”
“That’s not what I heard happened with Landon and Chastity,” I retorted pointedly, giving her the evil eye.
She punched me a second time, her mouth agape.
“Oh my god, Luca. I can’t believe you just brought that up, you asshat,” she laughed.
After a second of silence, she added, “And besides, I was only really in it for Chastity’s rockin’ bod.”
It was my turn to gape at her, trying to act as shocked as possible. “You would, Sobe.” I cackled, reeling into her shoulder as we walked down the hall. “And how ironic that her name of all names is Chastity? Like that’s got to be a universal fuck-up, right?”
Sobe snickered, her creepers squeaking across the hallway floor.
“Can you blame me, though? Chastity has some really fuckin’ huge Chas-titties, if y’know what I mea-”
“Luca! Sobe!”
Alice jogged up behind us and squeezed her way in between our shoulders. She was looking as picture-perfect as ever, her pink curls swirling in loose ringlets around her collarbones. She was wearing the dress I liked: black, buttoned, and collared. My heart jumped up into my throat. She kissed me on the cheek and ruffled Sobe’s bobbed hair.
“Is killer over here getting girl-crazy again?” Alice chided, throwing a smirk in Sobe’s direction.
Sobe forced a laugh and stuck her tongue out, wrinkling her eyes and nose.
She gave a real laugh, then retorted, “No, I’m not into Chastity anymore. She’s a bit too ‘quaker oats’ for my taste. I’m actually into someone else right now.”
Putting my arm around Alice’s shoulders, I shot a quick look at Sobe.
“So…? Are you going to tell us who the lucky girl of the hour is?”
Sobe’s cheeks began to hum in my ears with pin-pricks of pink. She put her arms around herself and looked at the floor, her teeth prying at her bottom lip. Sobe never did this. She wasn’t the type of person to show that kind of vulnerability. Alice and I leaned in, our ears trained on her lips.
She finally spoke, “Actually, guys, it’s a boy.”
We stopped. Dead.
“What do you mean it’s a boy?” Alice cooed, “I thought you were…”
“Yeah, me too,” Sobe nodded, tangling her fingers in the metal chain around her neck. She continued to chew her lip, the irritation causing it to get swollen and shiny. I focused on her red mouth, a low rumble against the chorus of yellow lockers. My eyes followed the corners of her lips up to her flushed cheeks that hid behind a spray of beige freckles. Her cheeks sounded a bit like crickets.
It was then, however, Sobe caught my eyes. Her violet irises shrieking against the black charcoal around her eyes. She held me there, my skin jumping from spine. It felt like the electric chair. Were they always that intense? I was trapped, succumbing the the pressure of the howl. Her stare was void - I saw nothing but noise, but felt every pulse of energy that traveled between us. It felt… wrong. It was as if she was trying to tell me something, but she was screaming it into my brain.
When she finally looked away, my breath hitched and stuck somewhere in my throat. My insides were on fire, even though it had only lasted a few seconds. Alice didn’t notice. I felt it was for the better - Sobe and I would discuss that later in private.
Sobe spoke up, her eyes falling to the floor, landing somewhere by Alice’s pedicured toes, “I don’t really think that matters right now. I’m still trying to figure it all out myself,” she looked up at Alice and gave a weak smile, “but I’ll definitely tell you when I’m ready, okay?”
Alice cupped her cheek gently and touched her forehead to Sobe’s, eyes closed. A signature “Alice” gesture of acceptance and understanding.
“Of course, Isobel. Just remember, I’ll love you no matter who you love.”
Sobe nodded at this and resumed walking, Alice and I on her heels.
“So, Sobe,” continued Alice, “I don’t know if Luca mentioned this to you already or not, but we were planning on heading up to the cabin after school for some major chill. Wanna tag along? I brought an extra headset!”
Sobe laughed softly and gave Alice an apologetic look.
“Yeah, Luca asked me to go earlier, but I don’t think I should. I always feel like the third wheel with you guys.”
Alice and I looked at each other briefly, concern washing over her face.
“Sobe, no. You’re never a third wheel. We love to have you around,” She reassured her, letting one of her hands fall on Sobe’s shoulder, “Is this about last time? I promise Luca and I won’t be so… enthusiastic this time.”
“Yeah, Sobes,” I said, placing my hand on her other shoulder, “It’s never the same without you. Not that hanging out with just Alice is boring or anything…”
Alice shot me a look from over the top of the short ginger’s hair, raising an eyebrow. I tried to return one that said, “Hey, I’m serious, but we have a very fragile situation here and I don’t know what else to say”. She shrugged it off and returned her focus to Sobe.
“Well…,” Sobe began, looking between me and Alice, “I guess I’ll go, but I didn’t bring any clothes. Can we stop by my place before we hit the road?”
Alice’s face lit up as she gave Sobe a quick hug from the side.
“Oh, I’m so happy you’re coming, Sobes. This is going to be great!”
“Yeah,” She nodded, a small smile wrinkling the freckles on her cheeks, “I guess it will.”

*pronounced SOH-bee