#weird prose

[thirdeyechai]

I want to hang out with people who are more intelligent, or differently intelligent, than I am.

I'm a writer, a healer, an intuitive knower. I weave together inkblots and altars, put words to strange happenings. I need herbalists, mathematicians, doctors, and those folk who study physics...I need biologists, photographers, models, philosophers. Pre-K teachers, uneducated dreamers. I need your stoners and musicians, painters and beauticians...geologists, cryptologists, deep sea divers, and witches.

[transviktortalis]

my hands are covered in grime. my hands are covered in silt and sand and sawdust. every wrinkle is filled, each line encrusted, my fingernails stained and chipped and yellow like weak tea. i cannot file the dirt away. i cannot wash it down the drain. i cannot chase it with clean water. my hands are covered, in grime

[pearlfiction]

spilled glitter faded,

and slid back into the jar.

the velvet black curtain divided,

and waved her ribboned hand

to unveil the soft glow of pink

dipped in warmed orange.

[namethatghostling]

Kanaya Maryam

Kanaya is the girl that always seems to end up having the wrong feelings towards the wrong person, but never gives up on finding love. Kanaya is the girl that cares about her friends and would do just about anything for them, fighting through the pain and guilt and bitter consequences. Kanaya is the girl with too much weight resting on her shoulders, when all she can see is how heavy everyone else's burdens are. Kanaya is the girl that makes mistakes, like everyone does, but refuses to harbor regrets because they'd just slow her down. Kanaya is the girl that wants a lover who is also a best friend. Kanaya is the girl that takes the good and the bad with perfect composure. Kanaya is the girl who not only tolerates the faults of her loved ones, but embraces them. Kanaya doesn't back down. She is strong. She is hopeful. She is a shoulder to lean on. And a shoulder to cry on. She feels and fights and never forgets. Kanaya Maryam.

[there-are-no-beautiful-words]

Rose is a middle name

A long time ago, before id ever fallen in love, or crossed paths with Max, you didn’t want me. So I wrote a letter to a lady from the yellow pages with the same last name as you. It was probably really terrible and full of annoying new found teenage angst. But two weeks later she sent me back an envelope with a pressed flower; that’s how I know everything will always be okay. That’s why you waste your time trying to teach me trig after school. That’s why you’re not just that girl in my art class, not just that poor thing who got hit crossing the street. Who broke her entire body, whose friend bled from the brain. That’s why whenever I look at you; I’ve no reason to want to cry. I’ve never seen s girl so happy, and I really hope underneath your façade, you don’t blame yourself.  When I meet people like her, I know I want to write. I know that I have been, and will. Till my hands can no longer manage. When I meet people like her, and she tell me how beautiful I am, and how I shouldn't worry, I believe it. When all I want is to give up and slack off and waste my life in an office, she just tells me to smile, so when I get to all these wondrous places, I'll know how to look.

[subharryaf-blog]

Flame.

I just... started writing and this is what I ended up with. Warning - rather dark.

You're so used to being the one who gives it all. You're the one who loves too much, who becomes too attached, far too quickly. You love too hard, cling too hard. You miss so strongly. You're always the one who needs. You're the one who tries. You try to hard. To make them laugh, make them smile, make them love you. And ultimately, you're the one who gets pushed away, gets hurt. You're the one who is accused of being in love. Of being obsessed. Of getting too close.

And it's a lonely way to live. If you want to keep your friends, you learn to distance yourself. To love less, to smile less, to play it cool. You don't love these friends; you can't love these friends. You like them, you tolerate them, you enjoy them. But with them comes a calm detachment. It's that, or face rejection. Because the world doesn't like it when you love too hard, too much, too fast. The world is based on lies and deceit and hate. And that isn't fair, because we are built to love. It is programmed into us, to trust. To desire. To belong. 

And maybe you've been lonely for a long time. Maybe you've learned to seclude yourself, to lock your emotions in a tight chamber and seal them off from the world. You've learned to hate. You are now the one who accuses, who blames, who rips and tears and screams. And maybe you've even learned to hate yourself.

But then comes someone different. Someone who loves with a burning fire. And you envy them. You wish you could tear down your walls, become the person you used to be. They glow. Like a moth to a flame, you are drawn. And you find yourself addicted. You need them. You crave the warmth they bring back to your cold corner of the world. But you see what's happening. From afar you watch as they slowly recede. Their fire burns out, and with them, so does your hope.

And suddenly you realize that it can't happen. You can't let this happen. You think, maybe just this once. Just this once you can love again. You can love like never before. And you're happy. You're pink and yellow and green and orange. You're sunlight through the trees on a warm day. You're that crisp, blue sky in the morning, and you're that flock of doves that just flew overhead, and you are the calming rain in the evening. And slowly their spirit returns. You teach each other what it is like to love again. You feed off one another, your happiness keeping you away from the dark corners of your mind that try to call you back.

Because there is always hope. You and this person, your flame, you know this. And you know what can happen. You've been there. You've felt it. You know that if you aren't careful, you will fall back from grace. You will begin to hate, you will feel the anger and the pain eating away at you. You know this. So you love and you trust and you let them back in. And you begin to live again.

But the world doesn't like it when we love too hard.