0
a little better

Spring leans in, pressing its nose to the glass. Thistles bloom in a parking lot. Robins feed in a schoolyard at dusk. Free range children run a little wilder, all smudge and theft. Two hearses arrived at a single house just down the block this morning, after all the rest of the siren bearing services proved past their ability to serve. I...
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puzzle

Nothing is missed. The dove cries softly on the line, the rain falls in gentle mists in drifting sheets, the crow calls from the heights of some towering evergreen. The streets clot and empty. The clouds glide and shift the meaning of all those puzzle pieces of the sky. We box up our lives, put away our feelings. Our shelves and closets clutter with...
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xxxholic:
What is the mystery?
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rumor

She walks upon the moonlit ocean, dancing on these pillars of sharpened salt, every step a glow. She is the very measure, pressed so gently between shine and the rollicking waves. That leaning away from translation, the weight of the native tongue so substantial. This is what we imagine, bound by landlocked walls. This is just the spell, the forgetful trust of words.

It...
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fuel or ash

There is a song I am always singing, a song without music or words. It is the song of rain falling on green leafs, the song of diesel engines left in idle. It is the color of water and the shade of pavement sluiced with showers. It rises in light moments, sinks like a fugue in the dour outbursts and bitter mood...
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promise

The day is a mottled writhing, ashen gray to tropical blue to all manner of insistent green. The air is warm and the wind is on the rise. There are whispers of rain gathering in the atmosphere, and the languid earth is ignoring every rumor. Bees clotted the blooms on a lavender bush, and my eyes are itching distractedly. Fires alight on every surface....
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never said

There is a warmth clinging to the wind this dusk, a charge in the air hanging even in these empty rooms. The moon making a spectacle of itself, hovering over rooftops, easing through wires and trees. The dark nuzzles the eaves and the rushes, skims the surfaces of water and metal, mingles with the grays of asphalt and the greens of shrubs. I...
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xxxholic:
biggrin
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other countries

It is too early. I am still picking the night out of my teeth, all bite and little bark. The shower did what it could, but there is not a setting for miracle I could find. The same sad-sack face, dead eyed and haggard in the morning mirror. The same ratio of dumb and crazy, only idling in park.

I recover the morning...
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the parting glass

Somedays you sink with the sunset; somedays you rise with the moon. No-one knows what is up with you. All the birds and the beasts take their separate measures, watching for which way you may lean. All the robots and the machines note your variations, trying to get ahead of the math. All your bones listen carefully to the stress and the...
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xxxholic:
I think I am always sinking with the sunset. frown
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a/v

There is this glamor, the sheen of this painted-on world. It hides behind our eyes, slices our minds into bite-sized pieces, seasoning each thought with favor and trickery. It is the stricture of the structure, the bindings that the story requires. It is the compression and the frame-rate, the taint of the medium flowing from small to large. This is the ocean of instrument...
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xxxholic:
So how is your emotional reality?
feyne:
I love Kafka so much.

I love your minibar sentence !

smile
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exhaust

The night scratches at the screen, brittle branches and sullen bones. A glass of ice water practices the condescension of condensation, droplets rolling down the outside of the rim. The room awash with electric light and recorded music. A weary weight claims the air. Outside a chill wind blows. Outside the world continues.

The day left in a cluttered tangle, knotted clouds and flustered...
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xxxholic:
Thank you!
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sakura

The green hills roll and tangle, lush until they burn. Clouds hover above, from storms foretold to pale remainders. Crows feast on french fries in the dead center of the road. Doves start and scatter for almost any reason. So goes the blue sky blue, and the day-lit day. So goes the practice once the theory is murdered at long last, buried fast and...
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xxxholic:
I think I asked this already some time ago. But why does every dream bare teeth? Do you have any good dreams? Do good dreams bite as well when you wake up and you're back to reality?
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room

I don't care to see the stars, diamond dust or match struck sparks. I don't care to watch the light fold away for the night. I don't want the wind on my skin or my feet on the ground, the words and the way nothing but another to do list. I won't see a thing, won't leave a mark or check off a box....
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xxxholic:
How are you broken?