thesoletaker

Gracefully she strides home like every night since his departure. She sits in a corner formed by a cracked wall and an enclosed shower; claustrophobic. Her boney legs pressing firmly to her chest. Just careful enough to not fracture her rib cage. Steam suffocates her weak lungs while her damp hair falls in strings at the side of her scraped pail face. Only a bit of light creeps through the dusty window blinds into the dimly lit bathroom. He demised premature; too sudden. He left her on her own without any oxygen. It's like breathing under water with out him here. She thinks so evidently. (and for a matter of fact, too often.) She parts her r

I lay tranquil on freshly cut dew drop stained grass. My oval eyes, they look through the clouds that drain the warm colour from the faces beneath; fading on the darkening planet. I stare through the cotton mass, far past, like I can see to the other side, and the other side is that of my childhood. I reminisce for an inhale; exhale too long. I watch as I see myself gracefully dance across dandelions towards the imposing play equipment. My features were calm however, frozen still like a porcelain doll. Reaching the Lego-shaped stairs, I climbed up hearing my steps echo in my sensitive ears.  As I stood on the top of the tall slide,

I Don't See Why: Chapter One- Fowl Play in Dreamland. Every October the traveling circus nestles at Hash; which would be the appropriate name of the delinquent boarding school I am banished to. It stays for about a week and then all is packed up again into vandalized trailers to go else where. How they get anywhere with flat tires puzzles me. What stumps me even more is why they bring a carnival to a school like Hash anyways. No one here deserves any of the smiles forced upon us. We spend our nights dancing bare foot on broken Smirnoff bottles not scribbling faux answers. Why celebrate with balloon animals for skipping classes due to our han

I'd make a sorry excuse for a griever; when children are dying in the world. I was surprised to come home empty stomach from skipped studies to an email describing a sorrow of sorts. It took a while for the rain water to soak into my thick roots; my veins and spine, and spark a signal to my head office. I didn't want to believe it was true and give in to my rather good denial. I was sure getting better at that. Then as though I were shot by a rifle; salty red liquor started pouring down my arms, memories from far too long ago flashed like white light before I could remember how to blink. As though every bone under my thin acid flesh had been

I'm sure by now you have already eaten your bread and said grace. You must have drank the coffee that I filled to the top with prescription meds in my confusion last night. I'm sorry; you may find me now and watch as my unfaithful vivid emotions drip threw acid drops and fall from the tear ducks of my sensitive eyes. My skin, it starts to peal around the organs and my lashes, no longer like spider legs, burn off. The pain is unpleasant, no more toxic then the reason behind my lids. No longer can I close them. thus if I could only descry enough courage I aspire to be inside of me, would I then try to defy myself and perceive the world again.

Introduction- I'm not always this bubbly Not going to lie, my story is rather morbid. Flipping through cream colored pages at late hours. Taped together as into bandage the wounded. Dusty books. You'll get a paper cut on the first page. Now where to begin. I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm a taste of alcohol. A mix of insecurity plus intoxication. Maybe you can relate. Self-estine fractured by those not worth mentioning. I live where getting wasted becomes an art form. Stitches tattooed around my finger nails. They look like they were drawn on with a black sharpie. Like the one I stole from Ned Nerdy last week. Just so you know, I don

Lets send dynamite down my throat and see what happens. I want to feel as though my insides are going to explode into fireworks of vomit threw my clenched teeth. That would have been my choice of suicide. You make me sick with all of your unrated lies. If you keep eating away at my hard sugar coated flesh, you will reach my core> my center> my heart. And then why don't you tear apart that too. And my fury will grow and finally i will burst. Like a candy bubble leaving behind a mess of sticky gum. It will be all over your face. I hope it makes you go blind. And burn your skin like thick acid tar. I hope it hurts. And knowing you ki

Just going to say things how they are. You opened the French doors to my heart. I recount how you would whisper softly in my sensitive ears. "I'm yours to keep. Hold me close" and I'd do as you had said. The way you use to write me ransom love letters and leave them for me on my desk. Candy hearts and chocolate kisses. You'd long for my response. Those were the days to remember. Old photographs in dusty books. So tonight I wear this tiara with triumph as me and my girls rave the late hours to whatever the DJ feels like jamming. My shaking arm, barring a glowing neon bracelet that happens to be colour coding the room, lifts my excuse for futu

Let's run away to somewhere special. We'll frolic in cozy meadows. Dew drops. Oversized leafy green plants grow and nestle in harmony with one another. They blow in the gentle summer breeze. We'll hop on perfect stepping stones made from orange juice cartons, and juggle insects that swarm at our untouched faces. Delicate. And when we find this special place of ours, we'll pinky swear to keep it a secret forever. Lips stitched together. Blood between cracks. We'll sit on dirty picnic tables and dream about drifting away from here. Floating aimlessly. i wonder how it is we are able to balance. Nothing but air and water

Maybe I'm a robot. Take a metal skeleton key and wind me up. Watch me as a walk around; stiffly moving my arms back and forth like a mannequin. It's the only way I'm going to get anywhere these days. I'm drained physically like an empty bath tub, but mentally I am awake. Usually, but lately, I can't seam to think straight. My name is here and now, and I used to run on sleep, now I run on batteries. Tiny pills float in my half filled glass of x2 intoxicated alcohol. The reason why I'm still awake, it dances on the rims, mocking me. I never know when to quit. Swallowing hard, I lie down on what seams to be a coffin of sharp needles. They pierc