Devious Journal Entry
ZestI figure a year and some odd months is a long enough hiatus, right?
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On DisappointmentI.On Disappointment
Out on the porch, my mother sat in an Adirondack chair, smoking her first cigarette in ten years. The air was hazy and discolored. Her wedding ring spun on the table, gathering fallen ashes.
I was on the floor, knees tucked up under my chin, poking sticks down the cracks. She spoke of lies and imagined bliss.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed.
I listened as my mother explained the complexity of love.
II.
Last night he drove just over the state border. I sat in the car, feet up on the dashboard, singing with the radio. He looked at m
by ~McClelland
May FirstI’ve no desire to braid the arrival of summer. I have never worn flowers in my hair, seeds waltzingMay First
on the breeze tickling my nose and teeth. I never danced around a Maypole. The spring ribbons hang down like willow branches
and never touch my fingertips.
I drink warm ale in the churchyard and watch them weave sideways instead. I wait for the holiday moon.
Because I worship bedposts, bars made of maple and pine. The sap covers my hands, ribbons glued to my chest and my arms and my neck. I dance some sort of rumba on hot, short breaths tap
by ~McClelland
Lobotomy for BeginnersIt wasn’t the windowless room, the edges of the walls mixing with harsh light while waiting for the doctor’s knock. Or the sweat-leather straps and buckles braided into her hair.Lobotomy for Beginners
It wasn’t the operating utensils on the steel tray, the scalpel that looked more like a butter knife and the drill plugged in, lying on the floor. Or even the way the doctor complimented her posture, as if a stiff chin was more valuable than a working brain.
And it wasn’t the taste of copper that filled her mouth before she closed her eyes, not wanting to see him squin
by ~McClelland
My Hit and RunWe slept in what had once been the barn, wrapped up in our secrets like wool blankets that chaffed our skin and left us suffocating.My Hit and Run
You acted like the god of wine, plum stained lips kissing my eyelids shut, whispering lyrical crescendos of past nights spent dancing under the rafters and of mêlée in the straw.
I pictured the old ivy scaling the silo and the way the weeds circled my head, a crude crown you made after dusk.
But I dress like the god of war, unpredictable and short-tempered. I preferred the cob-webbed corner, consorting with the
by ~McClelland
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- Current Residence: Virginia, United States
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I haven't lost my mind; I know exactly where I left it.
"13 pi over 6 does not equal pi over 6. It's just kind of one of those 'duh' things."
-Dr. Harnett during Math Analysis
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I breathe Ether. (can't choke).
And there is only vividness, omnipotence and hyperreality.
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Death isn't evil unless you want it to.
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*Insert witty comment here*
xoxo
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