Tag Archives: short story

stories aren’t real

(find the previous part here) *** of course we know stories aren’t real. But we are real (probably) and language is real (for all its holes) and imagination and empathy are real and in the bubbling soup of us, words, and pretend, out comes this flavor of bakery-made meals and warm bread, or maybe tastesContinue reading “stories aren’t real”

Witches and Fishes

part 2 of Can’t Catch Me Now (find part 1 at this link) *** Mother was a witch, my father caught fish together they raised one beautiful girl and by raised I mean neglected, (TW: neglect and abuse so skip this account if you can’t stand the truth) In my earliest memories I ate foodContinue reading “Witches and Fishes”

Frage Stight

Maneuver a bull on the stage, lime lights seeing red read your lines in a dizzy haze black out cue the narrator: the popsicle obstacle went on a journey in this journal, where Brother Blood meets Mother Mud is when Jose complains no way he’ll crochet, sodadoughs are almost palindromic but yikes the lemon lightContinue reading “Frage Stight”

legend has it

(part 1 of Can’t Catch Me Now) Legend has it our ancestors came crawling from the ocean to avoid a whirlpool and built log huts to sleep in then never left. Legend has it, the whirlpool came from an angered sea god, and legend says a land god gave our ancestors legs and lungs toContinue reading “legend has it”

Perfection-whism

Sometimes I feel I have to present my bestest self just for someone to take notice, and if nobody does I just gotta try harder. I just gotta cut sharper through the apathy, trickle a clever-er metaphor into someone’s heart like suddenly their veins will go “Oh, I understand.” But sometimes, I need to breakContinue reading “Perfection-whism”

Anxiety’s got its boot to the neck

As much as I demand it let up, anxiety keeps its boot to my throat, leaving me crevices to breathe while all my instincts shout get out get out, get up run before each smiling stranger hiding fangs (so hungry) finishes the job– mustn’t let anyone see me this way, I’m, yeah, I’m okay ((anContinue reading “Anxiety’s got its boot to the neck”

Wisdom of the Ancients

If I could go back to my prime with all I know now, maybe I could really accomplish something. Make something of my joyous name, make this laughing spell between us stay the same. But what is my “prime”? Seven years old, innocent, playing games of succession? Eleven, on the cusp of depression? Older, myContinue reading “Wisdom of the Ancients”

Child of Rust

child of rust birthed of dust, passenger clouds make heaven shrouds, open your eyes, deserted cries, forgotten ages of societies vast, prophetic pages now apocalypse past: a stench blew in like rot meets ruin, a storm stirring sand, cup water in hand, drink child of dust, birthed of rust cities– bow back the sea swordContinue reading “Child of Rust”