in the beginning, there was no god.

in the soundless chambers of time and space

it was born.

small and insignificant;

its face blotchy and fat with flesh—

a sputtering mess  on its own—

eyes glowing bright,

the stars illuminated in response to it,

their dust reflective and vain compared to its eyes.

 

Their tongue was made of moonshine

and dry with stardust.

They were in but the child of

oblivion, unknown and renowned,

unforeseen.

 

it babbles softly in the fibers of space and time,

the universe crying mercilessly for answer.

Yet the child will only coo,

its heavenly body occupied with more timely affairs.

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cold.

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the sky has been dull for days;

the air chilling your bones, the whites of your eyes.

i trapped myself,

hiding from it,

comfortable,

isolated,

alone with my thoughts that travel

over to you.

and i hate you for it.

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The motel floors were always dusty. That was the illusion I liked to have walking around in nothing but socks, boxers, and an oversized t-shirt. I liked the idea of constant rhythm. I wanted life to be a musical, and it was easy to allude to that when I could slide against the hardwood floor.

Arzaylea hated it. She hated a lot of things, but she was also a Pisces, another thing on the list of things she hated. It seemed she wanted to add more things to her passive list of hate when she asked me the next morning to call her Arri.

“I want to feel different,” she said simply, not letting me put in a single word of input. I let her be, already knowing that as soon as we went back, so would she.

Arzaylea intrigued me. Not the way Ashton did, but in a more knowing sense; a curiosity with the familiar. She had a strength to her and you could feel it. A certain bite derived from the past, and I could only wonder what killed that in her.

I left Arri alone for her early morning meditation towards self discovery, to see him. It was the perfect set up and I let images dance through my head of all the possibilities between us.

My feet finally met his door steps as I raised a hand to knock. I waited a minute until the door opened with its aged squeal. Puppy brown met my blues and the eyes revealed a face that finally revealed a name.

“Hey I’m Bryana. Did you need anything?” a feminine voice asked. She was fair, talking with her hands gracefully, and her voice was velvety. I choked, scratching the back of my head with apprehension. She was simply to pretty to be a friend.

“I wanted to see Ashton if he wasn’t too busy,” I mumbled, the words squishy against my tongue. She nodded, disappearing into the room once again. I leaned against the door frame, taking in the darkness of the hotel’s vacancy. It was easily interrupted when he stepped out.

“Hey Lu.”

“Lu?” He nodded, giggles filling the hallway like bubbles. His energy seemed sudden and intense and I was still busy deciding if I liked it.

“I wanted to see you,” I said slowly, receiving a mocking look. “My roommate is meditating and I wanted a friend to come exploring with me.”

He nodded along placidly, giving a ghost of a smile. You could see he wasn’t completely there, nor was he making the effort to try to be. Still I didn’t blame him since I wasn’t fond if being stuck in this realm either.

“Sure, I’d like that. It’d be good to have a local show me around. You don’t mind if Bryana comes too do you?” I caught my tongue in my teeth, resisting the urge to whine. I shook my head and he disappeared back into his room.

He came back out soon fully dressed to go with no girlfriend on his tail. I smiled, trying to evade the thought that I had won in some sense.

But, dare I say, he was wrapped around my goddamn finger.


Hi lovelies,

In case anyone will care, I’ll be on hiatus for the week. I may post randomly but this the official one. Mildly disappointing considering that break last week due to finals but I really need to rethink somethings. Have a lovely rest of the year.

-Kirsten

the ocean.

It is forever running like a round river

as we move deeper and deeper

into the womb. You will combust

into thin particles of dust,

your bones cracking with pressure

your lungs folding over like plastic: ripped.

 

It will unravel, slowly, achingly,

catching your fibers in its teeth

as it opens you up once again, pulling

harder. It hurts now,

the pull threatens your core and asks you

“What will you be once there’s nothing left to be?”

And what you shall answer

I don’t particularly care.

my dearest indi [entry iii]

How do you tell someone that you no longer exist? I ask for a friend, myself that is, for we both can’t feel the resemblance of an I or me. There is no longer an entity to refer to as myself. There are only others, bits of fluff shifted across space and time. I’m not falling apart, for you must be reminded there is no longer an I here.

They have been trying to find one. Their words could not draw one out, nor when their bones tried to crack the ghost of what was once mine. My dearest Indi could never find me, not now, not when I was no longer to be found.

There are two ways to see stardust: the way is found in its compound. And when the stardust finally collected itself in one part of the dingy complex, there was no hope fore become me again. Whatever that was.