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I just don'tI just don’t want to break something so pretty. I don’t want to be shattered emotional by something my logic can’t measure in precise quantities. Something so beautiful has to be a mirage meant to poison me mentally, pull the preverbal pragmatic rug out from under me. I don’t want to sully something crafted so elegantly… I can’t bring myself to wreck a body that does nothing but elicit sensations within me by a power that rivals deity’s decree. A lord in its self that spurs creation out of me. A light that thinks it’s self as dim,I just don't
by TheKameo
A soundA Sound -In the room with no heater she woke up slowly.-A sound
It’s not like she was crying. No, they weren’t tears unless they had been called forth by some sort of monumental grief, and she knew nothing of that sort of thing. Grief and tears were for widowed mothers. Incomparable sadness was for runners who lost limbs, bankers who went bankrupt. That type of feeling was for men who couldn’t feed their children on too small paychecks. No, this was defiantly not a feeling for someone so young, a child, herself.
There was no such thing as meaningful
by TheKameo
I Hate ItI hate it.I Hate It
Her face is forever ignorant of anger’s distortions. It’s always been so. Even when I know I’ve done wrong, I’ve incensed her; she has never frowned before me. Her teeth have never ground against each other in anger, never has she raised her voice, or berated me though barred teeth.
Quite the contrary, she speaks in those low civilized tones. Nice and even with an acquired nonchalance. Her body will slow down, blinks linger, as if subdued by her own emotions. Ones that should inspire her to be fiercer, instead she falls back on y
by TheKameo
Across The TableAcross the table, I’m looking at another me. His movements are planed, his laugh is forced; as if being here is some catholic sunday school nightmare. Yet, even with that in mind, I smile as courteously as possible. I shrug off the coolness of his blank stare and grasp at the first inconsequential topic that breezes though my mind. In blatant disregard for his comfort, I wade through stories of my previous escapades in hopes of eliciting some such story from those pressed lips of his.Across The Table
After moments pass, I find myself wondering why I’m allowing my own lips to flap incessantly. I know he’s not listening. Sighing deeply, I st
by TheKameo
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: A loveseat in the inner-city
- Interests: Stuff
- Favourite movie: Stay, Little Manhattan, Stardust, Ghost Town, Mulan
- Favourite band or musician: Classic Case, Mae, Sugarcult, Esthero, and stuff
- Favourite genre of music: Blues
- Favourite poet or writer: John Ruskin or the modern day Garth Nix
- MP3 player of choice: Mine
- Skin of choice: Mine... though I might be open for a trade.
- Favourite game: Parcheesi
- Favourite cartoon character: Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes
- Personal Quote: "Your face, it happens to be on fire."
- Tools of the Trade: A Zebra F104 pen, mini Moleskin notepad, and a hammer
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