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Literature Text
She liked goldfish.
She kept a comet goldfish in a glass bowl on her nightstand, a big ugly thing that swam in lopsided circles and opened and closed its mouth as if it were gasping for air all the time. She got her first goldfish when she was six and went to the carnival two miles down from her house, a big one that served funnel cake and cotton candy and had all these cheap carnival games for fifty cents. She was playing this game where you throw the ring onto the glass milk bottle and it always bounces off. She bought five rings and they all bounced off and she kept buying them until one landed and she finally won and the guy behind the counter gave her a goldfish, and told her that it would've been cheaper to buy one. She wanted to play again and win him a friend, but the guy told her to keep her money and go buy a glass bowl. It was probably cheaper.
This is back when she was in first grade and her favorite movie was Pinocchio, when she dreamed about wooden boys and carnivals and being swallowed by a whale. She thought that being inside a whale would be wonderful because she could sit on its tongue and nap and listen to its songs all day, and make friends with all the little fishes that it swallowed. This is when she went to the library to find out that whales ate a weird thing called krill, that they had a leg bone inexplicably stuck in their body, that they were the largest mammal in the world. This is when she brought her goldfish home and named it Geppetto and didn't go to sleep at her bedtime, but stayed up with a flashlight pointed at the fishbowl and whispered to Geppetto that she was very very very sorry he was a whale stuck in a fish's body, but she knew what he was, and one day they'd be free in the ocean and they'd make friends with all the krill and maybe the reason he had a leg bone in him was because he was meant to run across the ocean floor.
This is before she went on a road trip to the ocean with her family and Geppetto died before they made it there. This is before she buried him in the sand and said she was very sorry she didn't have a chance to live on his tongue and listen to him sing to her all day. This was before she grew up and her favorite movie became Donnie Darko and she became an avid reader of Chuck Palhaniuk instead of Grimm's Fairy Tales and she started having sex with boys under the bleachers of her high school gym. This was before I met her in a pet store aisle while I was nursing a hangover and searching for a muzzle while she whispered under her breath in front of the fish tanks lining the walls. This was before I introduced myself as hi, I'm Carlo, are you talking to yourself? and she told me no, she was talking to the fish, and they were telling her which ones were whales in disguise.
I don't remember what happened, except that twenty minutes later we were in the parking lot and I had no muzzle but she had a bag with a goldfish in it and she was telling me that he was a whale and his name was Geppetto. We were leaning against her car and I was smiling at her because I couldn't figure her out, and that was exciting, but what was more exciting was how I couldn't figure out how an hour later we were in her apartment and the fish was in a bowl on her nightstand table and my fingers were against her spine and through her gasps she managed to whisperask in my ear if I had an extra femur, and I could barely contain myself as I whispered back that no, I didn't.
We had a tumultuous relationship. We fell in love over two years and three Geppettos and fifty-seven visits to the aquarium where there were no whales but it was okay, because she pressed me against the aquarium glass and in the blue light she whispered around my neck that I was a whale at heart. It was the most bizarre and inappropriate thing I had ever been told, but at the moment it made my heart pound and cheeks flush and I kissed her until we couldn't breathe, but it's okay because at the moment we were giant mammals.
It was our two-year anniversary when she left. I brought home an extra goldfish and put it in the bowl while she was asleep and woke her up and pointed and kissed her cheek and said look, there's two, two of us, Geppetto finally found his Pinocchio. And then she was crying and hitting me and telling me to get out, get out, get lost, and suddenly I was in the hallway with a bag of all my stuff in my arms trying to figure out what happened, what happened, where the whale in my heart swam off to.
I saw her again last night. I was at the pet store wandering through the tanks looking for a whale, and I was practically on top of her before I realized she was there. Our eyes met and we didn't say a word to each other, but twenty minutes later we were in the parking lot and no one was smiling and there was no fish in a bag in her hand. Two hours later we were naked in my bed and we hadn't said a word to each other besides the moans that were long gone. She was naked and there was a whale on her back and she still won't tell me if it's my Geppetto or her Pinocchio.
She kept a comet goldfish in a glass bowl on her nightstand, a big ugly thing that swam in lopsided circles and opened and closed its mouth as if it were gasping for air all the time. She got her first goldfish when she was six and went to the carnival two miles down from her house, a big one that served funnel cake and cotton candy and had all these cheap carnival games for fifty cents. She was playing this game where you throw the ring onto the glass milk bottle and it always bounces off. She bought five rings and they all bounced off and she kept buying them until one landed and she finally won and the guy behind the counter gave her a goldfish, and told her that it would've been cheaper to buy one. She wanted to play again and win him a friend, but the guy told her to keep her money and go buy a glass bowl. It was probably cheaper.
This is back when she was in first grade and her favorite movie was Pinocchio, when she dreamed about wooden boys and carnivals and being swallowed by a whale. She thought that being inside a whale would be wonderful because she could sit on its tongue and nap and listen to its songs all day, and make friends with all the little fishes that it swallowed. This is when she went to the library to find out that whales ate a weird thing called krill, that they had a leg bone inexplicably stuck in their body, that they were the largest mammal in the world. This is when she brought her goldfish home and named it Geppetto and didn't go to sleep at her bedtime, but stayed up with a flashlight pointed at the fishbowl and whispered to Geppetto that she was very very very sorry he was a whale stuck in a fish's body, but she knew what he was, and one day they'd be free in the ocean and they'd make friends with all the krill and maybe the reason he had a leg bone in him was because he was meant to run across the ocean floor.
This is before she went on a road trip to the ocean with her family and Geppetto died before they made it there. This is before she buried him in the sand and said she was very sorry she didn't have a chance to live on his tongue and listen to him sing to her all day. This was before she grew up and her favorite movie became Donnie Darko and she became an avid reader of Chuck Palhaniuk instead of Grimm's Fairy Tales and she started having sex with boys under the bleachers of her high school gym. This was before I met her in a pet store aisle while I was nursing a hangover and searching for a muzzle while she whispered under her breath in front of the fish tanks lining the walls. This was before I introduced myself as hi, I'm Carlo, are you talking to yourself? and she told me no, she was talking to the fish, and they were telling her which ones were whales in disguise.
I don't remember what happened, except that twenty minutes later we were in the parking lot and I had no muzzle but she had a bag with a goldfish in it and she was telling me that he was a whale and his name was Geppetto. We were leaning against her car and I was smiling at her because I couldn't figure her out, and that was exciting, but what was more exciting was how I couldn't figure out how an hour later we were in her apartment and the fish was in a bowl on her nightstand table and my fingers were against her spine and through her gasps she managed to whisperask in my ear if I had an extra femur, and I could barely contain myself as I whispered back that no, I didn't.
We had a tumultuous relationship. We fell in love over two years and three Geppettos and fifty-seven visits to the aquarium where there were no whales but it was okay, because she pressed me against the aquarium glass and in the blue light she whispered around my neck that I was a whale at heart. It was the most bizarre and inappropriate thing I had ever been told, but at the moment it made my heart pound and cheeks flush and I kissed her until we couldn't breathe, but it's okay because at the moment we were giant mammals.
It was our two-year anniversary when she left. I brought home an extra goldfish and put it in the bowl while she was asleep and woke her up and pointed and kissed her cheek and said look, there's two, two of us, Geppetto finally found his Pinocchio. And then she was crying and hitting me and telling me to get out, get out, get lost, and suddenly I was in the hallway with a bag of all my stuff in my arms trying to figure out what happened, what happened, where the whale in my heart swam off to.
I saw her again last night. I was at the pet store wandering through the tanks looking for a whale, and I was practically on top of her before I realized she was there. Our eyes met and we didn't say a word to each other, but twenty minutes later we were in the parking lot and no one was smiling and there was no fish in a bag in her hand. Two hours later we were naked in my bed and we hadn't said a word to each other besides the moans that were long gone. She was naked and there was a whale on her back and she still won't tell me if it's my Geppetto or her Pinocchio.
Literature
just realign our hearts please
This is me meeting you more than four years ago.
The weather was colder than it should have been with furls of wind wrapping around us. Those stubborn gusts had picked up a multi-chromatic array of leaves and tiny particles of dust, which whipped around making the whole world glitter. Your hands were in your pockets but your eyes never left my face. It was a Saturday and I was chewing my lip, trying to figure out what was playing behind all this silence. Shutting my eyes tightly, I rearranged a mess of thoughts to align our heartbeats. Standing on tiptoes, I felt your breath sweep across my face and our lips meet in the middle. I kept hopin
Literature
diagnostic.
we're painting our walls
to match the foundation
but we both know we'll
never match our needs
"why must they be gray?"
"darling, we both know
that gray is for pessimists."
-
Micah isn't afraid of the tiny
holes we dug ourselves into
but i know he's scared that
soon our 'playing house' will
be discovered for what it is:
playing lies
(he calls me darling, because
i'm his wife, and that's what
he is supposed to do. i worry
because families shouldn't have
to pretend to care like we do)
-
we're eating takeout side by side
but not together, never together
i'm staring into styrofoam dishes
when i realize: i can't remember
wha
Literature
this.
you have shaded eyes quiet smile dark hair love ─
and I could do anything
if it wasn't for you.
collapse the borders on the edge of my vision;
everything's faded out to black shards.
It's cliché and stupid and it won't mean a thing to you, but I know
I won't be able to breathe when you leave tomorrow.
the shield whispering around my skin
was untouchable, I thought, perfect;
no one would be able to get in.
But you passed right through without even trying.
arou
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she probably never will
a break from my usual style, i apologize. this is copied from my experimental blog, the one thousand words, as requested by *paperheartsyndrome, because i will do anything for her. and if you guys take the time to check it out, i would love that a lot.
a break from my usual style, i apologize. this is copied from my experimental blog, the one thousand words, as requested by *paperheartsyndrome, because i will do anything for her. and if you guys take the time to check it out, i would love that a lot.
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Whales symbolise Love, Peace, Patience, Goodness, Sorrow, Dreaminess, Philosophy and Creation. This was a true assumption that I supposed.
* Keep Making the "Words of Whales"! You're a inly Whale Hearted Human, with soul and heart of He.
* Keep Making the "Words of Whales"! You're a inly Whale Hearted Human, with soul and heart of He.