#snipbits

[savyko]

Little something I made for an MEP part I was doing. Also MariChat <3 I did a Ladrien Kiss so it was only far! Ladrien Snipbit to come soon! 

[noomi-nikola]

Life on repeat.

Chances are always numbered. They deplete in time. How many times can you walk infront of traffic blindly and expect to not get hit? How many times can you pull needle and thread through cotton before getting pricked? We always do things to increase our odds instead of doing things to stop the problem. We add horns to cars to warn people instead of having them open their eyes. We throw bandaids on old pricks instead of wearing a thimble. We put caution signs on things that should be common sense. People don't come with caution signs but we know the outcome. We choose to take the chance and waltz through the flames to risk getting singed. Eventually we become the ash shells of the beauty we once were. Thankfully we are phoenix but the rebirth process is harsh and we waltz through the flames again.

[surroundedmag-blog]

Let's Cry a Little Now, shall we?

By Khadeeja Farooqi

Let’s cry a little now, shall we? for words said

-and those unsaid.

and for symphonies heard

-and those unheard.  Let's cry about vulnerable, beautiful nights and cold silent mornings,   about slipping seconds 

painted in photographs alone. 

And about those that were never captured.  Let's cry about dreams; about 

them flying wildly than the wind, 

about them being wilder than the wind. And let's shed a tear too  

for fantasies that sway behind wet eyelashes. Let's cry about colors, please?  Emerald, hazel and sapphire.  Let's cry about red, shall we?  And about raindrops splattering. And perhaps about wet roses swaying in July.  Let's cry about fading laughter, 

about the last songs, the last words.  Let's cry about the closing chapter,  about the final shimmer,  the final summer. Let's cry about all there could have been but is not.  Let's cry about all that would never have been but is.

Let's cry for tomorrow

and for yesterday. Please, let's just cry, for the sake of all that remains? Let's get drunk on broken phrases, not alcohol.  Let's dance to silent melodies, not music.  Let's sing poetry, not songs.   Let's cry about us, about them. 

Let's cry for me, for you, for us... Let's dance? I need to.  For the last touch, the last love.

[surroundedmag-blog]

Apartment 308: An Excerpt

By Julia Okun    from Washington D.C., USA 

Daisy had run out of eggs and she was making pies.  She ran downstairs to the grocery on the first floor of her building.  That was back before they’d boarded it up.  Her hands were still dusted with flour and she hadn’t remembered to take off her apron.  She had been reaching for a carton of eggs when Mimi Rodriguez came around the corner.  Daisy tried to turn away but Mimi had already seen her.  “What happened to you?  You’re a mess.”  Her voice was softer than Daisy wanted it to be.  Mimi’s thigh was black and blue and there was a bandage above her eye, but Daisy didn’t mention that.  She said something about baking and pies, and left before the conversation could go on too long.

[surroundedmag-blog]

Words

By Ariel Kaufman   from Illinois, USA 

No, I’m not from this place or that one, Or any rhyme or any reason.

I’m from here. I’m from this poem, you see.

It’s nice to belong somewhere, It feels like the smell of fried chicken. It will sit alone at my funeral, Dressed in a wide brimmed black hat. It will get lost amongst files, Between floorboards of houses That never existed. It will forever dance in horizontal figure eights, Leaping from infinity to infinity and coming back As the only thing it’s not,

A pile of words.

[surroundedmag-blog]

They Are Dead

By Tiana Ferrante    from Florida, USA

It becomes a sort of ritual To wish upon the firmament And yet, are the stars To our dreams inclined to be spent? For they are legacies That cannot secure the wishes in the head For, though we are dying, They are dead

[surroundedmag-blog]

Matyroshka

By Shreya Tripathy    from Texas, USA

Let’s all clap and sing along to this intentionally deranged rhythm. Let’s step out of place and crookedly dance to this tune.

Let’s throw up our hands and let our dirty fingernails unravel our sins like a noose being untied from a dead whore’s neck.

Let’s sing like drunks to a song no one knows and hopefully make some sense. Let’s giggle at our silly lives and forget our regrets from the past.

Let’s store ourselves deeper and deeper, a never-ending hiding spot for our nesting dolls covered in bandages.

[chandler-massey]

A little bit on Chandler from the April 30th issue of ABC Soaps In Depth

Thanks to Ron