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Archive for September, 2010|Monthly archive page

There it was, the fly.

In by Wyatt on September 30, 2010 at 6:31 pm

It there sat, little creature, sitting. It was not angry or hurtful or even clean. It was filthy and black and beady like a necklace morsel. It sat on my belly, and I breathed lightly to not disturb its still presence or engage its shallow mind.

I did stare, down my nose, at it. My chin neared my chest, it was close, and I could then see it, the fly. Outside my window, there were more like it, this I knew. But I could see this one only. It was real.

It could fly, yet instead it chose to stand.


The Kiss

In by Wyatt on September 30, 2010 at 2:44 am

It wasn’t planned. But it was dark. And loud. Fortunately for them both, the ambient audio shrouded the sound, but some throbbing subwoofer and excited outdoor chatter could do so much to cover up that hollow “thock”.

He’d thought she’d glinted her eyes at him — it was the laser reflecting off. She’d thought he’d smelled great — it was in fact the polo-shirted bloke behind him. Together, they’d made all the wrong judgments and all the right choices. Maybe.

He moved down gracelessly. She reclined her head back too far. And his forehead collided viciously with her delicate nose, shattering it.

It Seems Good

In by Chris on September 30, 2010 at 1:24 am

I’m not gonna say we shouldn’t do this. Maybe it’s good. The energy here is boundless; it isn’t stopping in its psychotic torrents. If we were to harness it somehow… The energy is ruthless; it rams against the walls and comes back and knocks us flat. A lack of light and music too loud. Into this setting we’ve funneled ourselves, this black hole vortex that wrestles us tight into submission. I enjoy it, I think, and I enjoy thinking about it when I’ve escaped to walk home through the night streets. Maybe it’s good, or maybe I’ll stop coming back.

The Itch

In by Marcus on September 29, 2010 at 8:58 am

A natural discomfort
An accepted annoyance
Always present yet we
Choose to ignore its presence
It is never subsiding and
crawls over our bodies
like small invisible insects
Aaaaaaaah the itch
Are we all present to its
Reality? Does it even exist?
Because it doesn’t seem to
Bother anyone else
Does everyone feel it?
We don’t know
They show no signs of
Discomfort, no scratching
Or awkward movements
They go on about
Their lives happily as
If nothing is wrong
Do they sense that we
Are uncomfortable? Oh No!
Sit still, don’t move
Don’t scratch, dont stand out
The Itch


In by Lucía on September 29, 2010 at 2:21 am

His skin was healthy but weathered, like bark on an older tree.  Lines formed creases along the planes of his face, and although his cheeks dipped inward, mature lines formed parentheses around his mouth, falling outward, like ripples from his smiles.  The hair was a top layer of unruly fluff, its soft grey reflected in blue eyes that shone bright against the wearing skin.  Softest, though, was the tone of his voice, a smooth rolling wave that kept the integrity of its tone, even when it echoed with emotion.  The man was an educator; it was written on his face.

Wild West

In by Wyatt on September 28, 2010 at 11:23 pm

Earl: I love you.
Steve: He really does, you know.
Sam: [Rolls eyes at Steve] I love you too Earl.

[Steve elbows Earl. Scrawny Earl dodges and looks uncomfortable.]

Earl: I was just thinking, you see, maybe…
Sam: What is it?
Steve: He wants to marry you, dummy.
Earl: Shut it Steve no I don’t you idiot I mean wait yes Sam I do but darnit Steve whyja have to go and say that for anyway?
Sam: You can make me a daisy ring, Earl.

[Bell rings]

Steve: Shoot, recess’s over and I didn’t even show you my new baseball cards.


In by Michael on September 28, 2010 at 2:56 pm

Pound pound pound. Feet and heart in rhythm. You’re lost in the music, and you are the closest to sane you’ve ever been.

You sweat until you forget what dry is and you forget what day it is. The sun beats down, and your drenched shirt keeps the cool wetness on your skin.

Deep breathing makes your lungs feel huge while the pain of needing the next breath reminds you your lungs are tiny.

At no point did you decide to do go for a run today. You woke up knowing you’d do it. Why does this feel so good?


In by Lara on September 28, 2010 at 10:57 am

“I’d like to get it over with as soon as possible.” The woman sat in a swiveling chair, swiveling back and forth.
“I’m sure we can see to that,” the doctor said, making a note on his clipboard.
“Thank you.” Swivel, swivel.

After the procedure, she slept.  She muttered things, periodically. Things about carnivals, husbands, and plane rides. The doctor made notes.

Seven days later, she awoke. She marched straight to the doctor’s office and sat down in his swivel chair.

“I’d like to get it over with as soon as possible.” Swivel.
“I’m sure we can see to that.”

Mind Readers

In by Marcus on September 28, 2010 at 10:55 am

We are all born with the ability to read minds
As children we perfect this ability because
It is our only way to understand one another
Unfortunately many of us lose this ability
As we mature and learn language because
Our obsession with language suppresses
Our ability to read minds by distracting
Our focus from the true thoughts within
Language is to blame for our failures as a society
It has the ability to lie unlike our minds
Which would be open books to explore
I say throw away language and unite
The world with the truths of our minds

Nice Little Fly

In by Chris on September 28, 2010 at 9:52 am

There’s a fly
Buzzing around my eye
He must be a nice guy
Cuz he hasn’t landed on me yet
Yet now he’s buzzed in my ear
Buzzing the only thing I can hear
And now I have fear
That he’ll land inside, escaping my wax so that he can puncture my eardrum with miniscule fangs dripping poison into my audible abilities.
It’s an irrational fear
One I hold dear
It clouds my clear vision
I’m wishing he wouldn’t
But think that he might
And oh baby the fright I’m flailing my arms trying to smash the nice little guy!