ButterflyGenocide's profile
AGE:
21
LOC: Phoenix, AZ
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: February 22
LOC: Phoenix, AZ
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: February 22
“People here are nuts; the sun will do that to you.” This is Phoenix Arizona. It WILL rot your brain. Vehemently opinionated eccentric scholar 20 years born, five months a mother. Skeptical yet hopeful for meaning. Schizoid line between nihilist and existential theist, with third party personality coming in guru style from the far east. Margaret Sanger and Alduous Huxley are my heroes. I love you if you know what I’m talking about. Have a nice day. Don’t forget to wash your hands. Om mani padme hum. Hail to the jewel in the lotus.
Yeah it would sound like a personals ad if it weren’t random.
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Something is missing here Something just isn’t quite the same Feel hollowed out, and full of fear Barely hoping to stay sane Anatomy is destiny I hear it over and over Where will the doors open Or will I just be stuck inside this dress Damsel in distress It isn’t fair I can do anything But how would I dare? He laughs at me Stupid girl Stupid girl Stupid girl
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It feels like that November when that shining day waited on baited breath, waited for the storm to come Did you ever stop to watch the tree tops dance To the tune you had in your head and wonder if you'd come home? When the rain fell And sleet crashed to the ground The storm had come and the storm was inside me It feels like that november When the air just shimmered So still, warm, and tranquil Just before the rain washed us away
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Version 2
4 Reviews
1 Comment
I had moved into a new house with my family at the end of that school year, and Stan had helped us move. My father said that since we knew the owner and might buy the house, we were painting the rooms. I still remember, before the last peices of home were stripped from the old house, we made hurried adolescent love in the bathroom while my parents took a load to the new house. Stan and I painted my room together, spending hours alone in the sparse and empty house, listening to an old radio. ...
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Version 1
1 Review
1 Comment
It was summertime in the valley of the sun. School was out, and Stan was gone. It had been an eventful year of opiates, pot, and psychic intensity and sexual experimentation. I guess we both felt we had to make up for missing the sixties. But after all the wildness and excitement, that friendships made and the bridges burned, the summer came like cruel anticlimax of dissapointment. Once he was gone, I secluded myself, and stopped getting stoned. I didn't see anyone. I felt my life must stand...
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Version 1
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Sometimes it seems like I am always tired It is an exhaustion that bars me from self-motivation. I don't want to write or talk or do anything, but I don't want to sleep. So instead I just sit and think. I think about the many levels of perception I switch between in a day. I think about the changes in the world and in humanity. I ponder upon the nature of love most especially, for lengthy periods of time. Yet it is in the greatness stillness that I ponder the nature of reality. If only I was ...
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The imagery is bright and springs into the mind eye effortlessly. The metaphors are imaginative and intense, instilling the reader with the emotions they were meant to convey. The personification of the tree to a woman is clever and meaningfull, for she is strong, lasting, and grows, and heals. The sap like tears, the blood colored like henna. The rhythm is a bit off, not quite smooth. This line: "His quills and poison, in her; mesh." is a little clumsy, especially in comparison with the rest...
There is a lot of descriptive language, and though it's short, the small exerpt about the christening gives us a little character background, adding depth. I like the notes about sucking on the pen, and smoking a ciggarette; it adds detail and yet it almost sounds like it could be a vague freudian reference. I only say that because it would connect with what sounds like the characters fear of serious commitment. Bravo.
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