did love

offer us

beyond

finding another

soul to soak our life

in and to create

from it light through

the extraordinary

vision of listening

to the music of our

heartbeats slowly

dancing as they

quietly intertwine

The invisible pull.

A brush against the soul.

LOGOS

In the beginning were the words.

Fast like rivers, slow like honey.

Sharp like quills, soft like wool.

For every picture a thousand words,

speaking the world and all its creatures.

Where are we born? A sea of words.

Where do we dance? A floor of words.

What is death? A return to words.

And heaven a tale that, like a moth,

flits about from lip to lip,

Just small (Super small) snippets I wrote.  There might be more to come.  These are one-off scenes that don’t go to anything.  I just wanted to write them.

1. Game

“Here,” Donnie says.  His fingers fly over the keyboard before he makes a decisive click.  The printer hums to life with all the energy of sleeping dragon.

“Geez,” Leo says.  “How old is that thing?”

“Old enough,” Donnie answers.  He pushes toward the shaking printer and pats it fondly.  “It’s one of the first things I fixed.”  And still fixing.  The things a pain in the ass if he’s honest.  They don’t make the parts for it anymore and he’s gotten real creative with ink cartridges over the years but....  “It holds sentimental value.”

The machine struggles to coughs out the paper, but it does eventually.  he holds the document triumphantly in the air.  “Here you go!  One authentically fake US Birth certificate!”

“Really?!”

“Really,” he grins.  “We’ll get you a brooch for the tournament too.  Unless you wanted to claim the costume look?”

“I think a brooch is the best option,” Leo hums.  “I don’t want the cameras getting too close.”

Donnie nods and pulls out his phone.  He shoots April a quick text to get the Casey’s together for Saturday.  Leo hadn’t asked, but they’re definitely going to be in the audience cheering him on.  Leo’s going to demolish those chess guys.

“Wait?” Leo stops.  “This was already done.”  Leo’s eyes narrow on the wide computer screen and Donnie curses.  “Those files say Raph and Mikey.  When did you make these?”

“Well,” Donnie says.  “You know..” in case things changed.  In case the world experienced enough weirdness that theirs wouldn’t stand out.  In case he needed to enroll in college or send Mikey to art school.  In case Raph got the chance to do anything besides look after them.  In case, in case, in case.  “Just wanted to see if I could.”

2. Medium

April should’ve known that one day the weirdness would catch up to her.  She’d managed to go unscathed for years.  She hasn’t been mutated, decapitated, mutilated or any of the other -ated’s since she met the boys.  So why this of all things?!

“This isn’t happening,” she hisses.

“Believe it girlie,” the man said, and his his raspy voice grates against her ears.  “Believe me, we don’t want to be here either.”

“Yeah,” the other grunts and she’s forced to look at them.  Her former bosses talk up the bulk of her room.  Well, one does.  He’s huge just like April remembers.  The only different is there’s no flame over his pointed head, and his purple skin was lost to the blue hue of his see-through form.  “The big man upstairs said we had some unfinished business.”

April would’ve never let Gram-gram possess her if seeing ghosts was the consequence!   She tried to avoid them when they first showed up, but they just got more annoying.  Knocking over vases, rattling chairs, opening windows.  The whole Paranormal Activity nine yards.  Her dad was two seconds away from calling priest! 

if i pass away,

my pen will mourn me longer

than my friends will ever do in a lifetime

it will sit cold on my study table,

its own bereavement fester

with the lifeless body buried somewhere

reeking of lost poetry

an ocean of mystery that seems

unsolvable now that the lead vanished

like smoke

it will try to recollect the words

it used to scribble

and the emotions they carry

it will marvel at the depth of the scars

that resonate on the seemingly flawless pieces,

how many times in a day did i survive

the pangs before i decided the culmination

of a barren life

such a tragedy that it could only lie there

thinking of the past as its yearning

to be held burns with the candlestick

-mourn me longer,

18/30: be a little saucy. write a literary sext.