February 2012
6 posts
Toes reaching to the bottom of the pool, glancing upwards as the sun cuts through to the water. I wonder if my skin will burn while submerged. Thoughts melt away from the top of my head, flittering up to the water’s edge.
I lay on my side, one eye in the water - the other glaring towards the sun and it clicks.
New Job! New Job! New Job! →
help support my new job where I am running the Tumblr, fbook, twitter, etc.
Shoot me a like, follow, reblog, anything to get the name out there?
Buncee.tumblr.com
“we drink to get drunk
cry to not get hurt
pray that it all ends up
on an American Eagle bag”
The Gift - Patrick Jonsson
January 2012
10 posts
pieces of my hair for sale
5$ to the right buyers
10$ for a whole chunk
hurry while it lasts
one million apologies to everyone who had to witness that horrible onslaught of ads. I can’t (actually, yes I can) believe that my site would get targeted because all I do is write on here and who wants to obstruct that?! Not I !
Password changed and, hopefully, that’s then end of that.
http://digitallife.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/01/14/10158059-programming-prodigy-passes-away-at-16-hear-her-philosophy-of-life
:”“”“”“”“”“”“)
in my time of need
I despised him for that for quite some time. That every action he followed through was intended to be seen through this set of lens which were owned by the world he so badly wanted to be a part of.
“He was a conjurer. Conjured up these ideas, the world, the whole lot. And for that, I despised him. He was a great man with potential he didn’t see, but perhaps that’s for him to...
Check out my time spent in WA state! →
expect sainthood while living like a devli
I expect sainthood of others while I live a devil
And even in ecstasy, the boy always had a worry clinging to his mind.
And even in ecstasy, the boy always had a worry clinging to the back of his mind,
-js
December 2011
12 posts
Trance Writing.
Wind kinda making that familiar sound outside, stick a hand out the window left ajar.
Kinda feeling what it means to think when to think how to think the things you have to when to and how to.
A draft is picking up right aruond now and the smell of the lake at the valley bottom can be felt in my bones
I ache still, but I’ve learned to pay no mind to it
steady dripping sound reverborates...
4 tags
let’s count the number of times i’ve left my number at a cafe/restaurant.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/12/20/thomas-jane-on-tv-american-brainwashing-suicide_n_1160053.html
I’ve got hope sitting here. It may be too warm for my taste and my stomach might be as queasy as its ever been, but there’s hope. I won’t say the future looks bright, but rather the present I am in - I paint it that way. No, I strip away the layers, layers I don’t need,
peeling of dry pieces, rather, dry sheets of skin, somehow my freckles still remain, though they do...
I haven’t written in so long and I recognize the familiar feeling. It creeps up on you. Not in the way everyone writes about something ‘creeping’ up on you, romanticizing it to seem that somewhere deeeeep in your unconscious, you sense the thing creeping up on you.
No, you look down one second, days past, and before you know it your knees are on the porcelain tile in your...
“Audrey just turned five and ‘Rapunzel’ came to her birthday party. Mark would have loved seeing her huge smile and excitement over Rapunzel sitting next to her, eating pizza and birthday cake. Our daughter was very happy that day, but after all her friends left she said, ‘Daddy should have been here so he could see Rapunzel.’ And she could not be more right....
slicks shoes as I run. pavements letting out a cry similar to the pounding in my head.
November 2011
45 posts
I don’t care for morning breath,
or when the covers get too warm,
for the feeling of having wet shoes
or smelling your burnt popcorn.
sometimes you wake up one morning,
everything is different, much like the time you wake up and it’s all the same.
But both of these occurences are small in number,
more often than not, you’ll wake up and hear the hum of subtle changes crashing into more distinct ones,
these are the moments you must watch
the mornings which are hundreds of times the amount of those previous...
“Doctor Papineau arrived that evening and dished out food and water and checked on the pups. The next morning Edgar’s father retued, but he hurried through the chores, leaving Almondine in the kennel run. That evening it was Papineau agani. When the night came on, she stood in the outer kennel run listening to the spring peepers begin their cacophony and the bats flickering overhead...
“She crossed the room and paused beside the chair, and she became in that moment, and was ever after, a cautious dog, for suddenly it seemed important that she be right in this; and looking at the two of them there, one silently bawling, one slumped in graceful exhaustion, certainty unfolded in her the way morning light fills a north room.”
- The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by Wroblewski
At the very most, they’d pity you. Watching that pot turn to a familiar, rolling boil - I placed my hands deep inside. Felt the veins themselves changed form, denaturing beneath my very fingernails.
Pasta was such a difficult thing to make when I was younger.
-JS
And I question myself everyday.
So I was curious as to see whether an historical... →
corduroy, never could spell it correctly,
lines running flush with skin,
fluorescent dripping from my eyes
dull times click-clacking away
-js
“I’m gonna write mean things about you to make myself feel better.”
nefarious.
-js
cause he ain’t gay, boy, my lover, he just don’t swing that way don’t fret, no stress, there’ll be a day, when he lies you down amongst the smell of hay and oh how OH he makes you feel that way
-js
nerves wrapped so tight in my chest,
warm hand,
don’t touch,
the tighter the lock, the safer the home.
-Js
Define a janitor’s work as beautiful, simply because you could.
-js
blinkin eyes, blinkin lies?
can lies blink? well in that moment - of a lie blinking - you can spot the truth.
-Js
White wood floors Wide ocean doors Man, I thought I loved you
Knew how to get home outta those trees we loved to roam Maaaan…I thought I loved you
burned our cottage to the ground forced to give up on our hound oh how I thought I loved you
So we walked arm in arm contants calls to the alarm oh how you dared to love me.
-Js
“Based on its review of the studies that met these standards, the Task Force...”
– UC Davis, Psych.
olive skin sunken in eyes,
brittle nails frail as ugly news
or at least the way its introduced
-js
hit or miss, man. hit or miss.
can my writing ever be anything other than surface level emotions, I wanna evoke more than a sigh from readers and I don’t know how. There isn’t anything worse than having a world of thoughts upstairs and not knowing how to get them on paper….
The physical manifestation of sadness,
It is those eyes burned red, as if the organs themselves had never been exposed to such salty water,
completely lucid, flush against a cliff, ocean beating waves against my body, I rocked heel to toe against my sadness, snot poured down a petty child’s philtrum.
had to google it, “ain’t even that close to how bad it’s going to get” he cooly whispered in my ear,...
Anonymous asked: Not only do I love your blog ( heh found it ) but I also am secretly infatuated with you. K. here we go I got this idea from a spam msg I received on Facebook lol.. I know you like me but were always way too shy to say so :3 go hit up crushmasher(dõt)com (uhh it wont let me do a regular link) then make an acct there. Search for the profile 'justmeandu33' ( obv me ) I posted body...
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