Aside

Hello world!

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This is my way of publishing my thoughts.

I’m not a writer but I’d like to post my writings to get feedback or rather leave something behind.

so…. THIS is my footprint, or blogged-literary-print, if you will.

Image: courtesy of Bill Edwards, panorama of Seattle Central Library “Living Room” space, Seattle WA

 

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The tingling sweat drops went down the shin, hitting the ankle with such coldness it shattered the dreaming flower… There was a cicada chirping lullabies with daggers swaying over the heads of blossoms … the old man smiled a toothless smirk when he drove the saw through the sycamore’s heart… the skies never slept better!

ZB

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Among the turbulence of sounds, heard a whirp, the tissue broke… the scarlet subject dissolved in the make-believe rain… no anguish… how queer! The soul was leaving… loneliness waited till the last ticks of tucked dreams… the fingernails tore at the membrane to no avail… truly ash was cheap!

ZB

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Upon broken bones of a fallen soldier you’ll only see the cracks made there by a kiss. The child grew old by the harsh lashes her mother bested upon her mortality. I cried for the broken towers, for the rotten flesh of the hearts so forgotten life was never able to repay. The kings at the mountains never understood morality, never understood the price of a single bread. They simply proved our minds and hopes to us. I cried to all the pigeons perching at my window sill: ” send your best! A child has awoken”. But the mother simply drew the curtains shot. The child slept for the fear of truth. All the fathers knew not to meddle for they never truly cared. Loneliness is sweet. Like minded trees never grasped the weeping willow.

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The tip resisted the surge of thoughts on paper…for my pencil knew the ending…the black grains scratched through the last words: I am leaving this li…the tip broke…a tear in paper…a tear dropped on I dissolving it into a smudge as my life was…nothingness is far easier than death.

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You set my clock again at eight sharp,You closed my eye drops in a jar,I was afar…You baked my cake red with the blood of flamingos at winter,I blessed the dreams with a kiss,You went afar…I stopped baking…stopped smiling … ceased to eat…to exist…I was no more …. a woman no more…An empty shell gathering sand at the shore waiting for another wave…Unawares of the sun…the sand…the desert I called home…I was alone.ZB

“One day I’ll travel to the moon and spit on Earth,” said the kid.

“Why on Earth?” Asked the adult.

“Because I’m thirsty…,” the kid replied.

“I’ll help,” the adult promised like so many other unanswered promises no one keeps.

And the kid went on to become an adult but he never spat ever again.

ZB