I claim no credit for this. See the link.

I claim no credit for this. See the link.

Saturday, May 19th 2012

There exists a place removed from space and time. No ceiling, no floor, no walls. No furniture. No people. No Color. 

White bleaches the far reaches of the horizon, masking all that may or may not lie just beyond its limitless reaches. 

It is a place of temporary use, admitting only those that are unaware. The lonely. The Inquiring. The confused.

Its inhabitants are dual-dimensional, operating consciously in the real world and obliviously in this one. Only the sensations can be felt, for that is the sole purpose of this empty location.

A body lays amidst the white, naked and supported by nothing but the forces that hold the refuge together. In the real world, the body is staring into the eyes of the catalyst. The eyes of he that forced the body into the sanctuary. Forced the body to think; to feel all that it’s repressed.

Under the blanket of white, the body’s eyes are closed. It’s muscles begin to twitch and its nerves zap to and fro, generating heat in a realm of icy desolation. Its heart’s rhythm creates music in a field of dead air. Bu-dum, bu-dum, bu-dum— ever quickly now, as the catalyst moves closer to the body’s Earthly form. 

Words of the catalyst enter the ear of the corporeal body, though they are not intended for that destination. The words sought the ear of another person, one finer in face and similar in humor to that of the catalyst. Both body’s grow rigid, paralyzed as the heart sinks further and further into the tangible body’s core. Jealousy, like a lethal poison invisible to the eye, leaks out of every pore. The vile chemical infects the thoughts of both bodies, the speed of the heart’s descent rises.

The other body grips onto vacant air as waves of frustration flush its system. The body jolts as electricity rewires the framework of the heart. Hands instinctively cover the body’s eyes wishing to erase the image. The image of the catalyst making its decision. The image of an idea smashed to pieces, leaving only fragments in its wake. 

The body contorts, wracked with spasms of denial and anger. Its mouth sends forth inaudible words of protest as the mind contracts with the minute pain of removal.

Climax. Convulsions. Breakage. Emptiness. Refurbishment. Resolution.

A single capsule of salt water traces the outline of the body in the real world. It walks away, with feet barely able to alternate in movement. Meanwhile, the 2nd dimension and its inhabitant fade into an even vaster expanse, defined by characteristics one can only imagine.

The body lays on its bed, willing for its lethargy to cease all emotion. Its wish is granted.

The body dreams of the process in solemn silence.

Tuesday, 5/8/12

piecesforcoyotes:

If once there was, but now there’s not,

then toss to the wind, you surely ought.

If something linger, if something stay;

if something takes your truth away,

then leave it be, soon will leave,

the peculiar pest,

perturbing Ye. 

Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we’re quoting.

— John Green (via karenkristie)

Monday, 4/16/12

piecesforcoyotes:

Out. Butterflies through a window. Burst.

Out. Liquid from a pipette. Drip.

Out. Air from the pit of one’s lungs. Sigh.

Out. The Sun peeking over the horizon. Glow.

Out. The Moon in hot pursuit of the Sun. Chase.

Out. From a stem alone, the buds of an orchid. Bloom.

In. Words I will never say. Locked.

(Source: ladybythewater)

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