Seriously thank you! Muchas gracias!
I am very happy you think so anon! :)
Tempestuous winds blew through broken windows. Shrill bellows bouncing across her bedroom walls. Shrieking wraiths manifesting to torment her.
Lucy huddled, knees against her chest, wrapped in a thick wool blanket. Her sparse furnishings splattered grey with rain.
Lucy hated the storm. Not storms in general. Thunderstorms she found to be quite pleasing. Fascinating really. The explosive crackle of lightning as it furiously travels down the atmosphere felt to her like momentous flashes of passion. The earth expressing it’s eros. And in turn igniting her own.
But this storm, with its cruel bitter winds and hot heavy rains bursting through her windows, reminded her of those wretched childhood afternoons she struggled to suppress. Of defiant memories that now burst forth unfettered. Of her mother’s stubborn silence and obedience. Of broken bones and bruised limbs. Of days spent quietly crying in the hallway closet. Hiding from the sounds of her mothers distressed sobs.
She knew that she should be relieved, happy even. Justice, in a sense, had finally been served. But these ghouls of wind would not let her forget that damage done remains grafted in the soul. She could hear it in the cracking words of her mother as she delivered the news over the phone the week before.
"Liver failure." She said. Words almost lost amongst the tears.
"Finally did him in."
“Men come and go, cities rise and fall, whole civilizations appear and disappear-the earth remains, slightly modified. The earth remains, and the heartbreaking beauty where there are no hearts to break….I sometimes choose to think, no doubt perversely, that man is a dream, thought an illusion, and only rock is real. Rock and sun.”
From “Desert Solitaire”
Wandering around Los Angeles California during a hot sunday afternoon with this lovely gal.
Alejandra’s face says it all. “Hurry up and take the damn picture.”
Alejandra’s distaste towards posing in photographs can’t even begin to be hid. Nonetheless, she was kind enough to stand still for me for a few moments while I took this shot along with various others through out the day.
Yet again i fail to form cohesive thoughts. This language that once so easily poured from my fingertips like an uncontrollable stream, evades me.
I may be lost.
My voice dammed up beneath the tarnished poisoned mush of quickly decaying grey matter. These complex symbols and sounds that allegedly serve to separate us from our beastly ancestors have become nothing but white noise.
I close my eyes only to be greeted by a void, a stark emptiness that drains me of my will. I disintegrate as I fall deeper into this black hole.
I contemplate running away to go roam through forests and fields of lilies In the hopes of regaining some of my composure; but fear and uncertainty hold a vice grip against my throat.
For now I sit in front of this beaming screen. Dulling my senses with every flash of red green and blue.
As for an escape, this coffee will have to do.
I told the lady at the hair place to cut my hair like David Lynch. She was like “you dumb boy,” but tried anyway. I’m happy with my hair.
This is an awesome question! :)
I feel like it would most likely be a comedy, with a strong leaning towards melancholy and tragedy. Maybe even a farce.