Comments Posted By Bee
Displaying 1 To 30 Of 156 Comments
It seems like these days I need a paramedic. I feel every day like I’m dying inside, just a little more. It’s fucking ridiculous and I am determined to make it stop. Otherwise I really will need a paramedic. But maybe even they won’t save me.
» Posted By bee On 02.27.2019 @ 8:36 am
Facsimile. Fax machine. They’re outdated, and yet still used so frequently! You would think that only old people had a use for them, but no. Every industry still uses them. Insurance, banking. ALl of them, simple emails aren’t secure enough for them for some dumb reason. Who knows. They are a fucking annoyance though, who has time to try and find a machine!
» Posted By Bee On 05.31.2017 @ 2:08 am
The dormant mouse always sat in his hole, wondering about the outside world. He was scared, for the stories of a housecat haunted his mind. The others mice told him stories ‘don’t go outside’ or ‘you’ll get eaten.’ Maybe he won’t go outside.
» Posted By Bee On 04.07.2016 @ 4:53 pm
boots slicked with rain. a jostled umbrella. a hurried apology. fumbling hands. the curve of your mouth. a story of becoming or beginning or something that we couldn’t understand. and i met you here. on a street in this rain grey city (that looked so much like every other one).
» Posted By Bee On 02.23.2016 @ 12:40 am
ive had this word already…. i bet i would know what it means if i took earth science. i think of volcanos, tectonic plates, shifting. it sounds rough… corrose. is corrose a word? corrosive…. something that has the quality of corrose. i need to google this.
» Posted By bee On 07.07.2015 @ 3:18 pm
seconds are passing and corrosive sounds like something i would have learned in earth science, if i ever took that class that is. volcanic, rocks, shifting, tectonic plates. i still dont know what it means but i feel scratching and brushing. its rough
» Posted By Bee On 07.07.2015 @ 3:14 pm
and until i am at your doorstep and your fingers are pressed into the woodwork and i can taste the earth in your mouth and you can find the sea in my hair and we form this broken horizon my hair will remain covered in salt and your tongue coated in dust and the sun will hang here in this space between drying our skin until we are husks. i wonder if you will crumble and if i will evaporate or if it will be the other way around.
» Posted By Bee On 05.26.2015 @ 11:26 pm
i feel the metal pieces near my fingers and i just know that the sound is mine. my shaking hands are scary but this is what it means music to me. i hear my fingers.
» Posted By bee On 09.11.2014 @ 11:21 am
The rumours were completely unfounded, as rumours tend to be. I never did any of it. I swear. I mean, I don’t even know where’ I would find a knocker, or a baby hippo for that matter. I know there was a lot of blood. But I’m a heavy bleeder.
» Posted By Bee On 08.19.2014 @ 12:24 pm
prophet. they whispered. quiet. as though words could have powers they did not know of (but isn’t there power enough in what they wield). there were stories, you know? of a child born at midnight. among shooting stars and falling constellations. they said there’d be angels. but it was only so quiet. as it always is. and it wasn’t at midnight at all. it was during the day. there were no shooting stars or constellations but it rained. and maybe that was enough. no angels but a girl too young holding herself together. quiet so quiet. and perhaps, that was enough.
» Posted By Bee On 03.16.2014 @ 6:46 pm
and see there must have been a before to this. there must have been a tidy sequence of events. a carefully dropped handkerchief. a misplaced note in a convenient corner. there must have been a before, a beginning they would say. as if there was an order to the way my skin has made way for your fingertips.
» Posted By Bee On 12.26.2013 @ 2:10 am
your wrist knocks against your forehead. salute. your wrist knocks against your forehead. but he is not moving. and your wrist knocks against your forehead. but you can see his life falling from him. your wrist knocks against your forehead. but his eyes are wide open. his uniform is rumpled. and your wrist knocks against your forehead. salute. colonel.
» Posted By Bee On 12.11.2013 @ 3:24 pm
straight noses. pale skin. beautiful. beautiful. and you. you with hands the color of the earth. dirt they called it dirt. they told you. that you would never be compared to the moon or the stars. but you are of the velvet darkness of the sky. and you were born in the soil.
» Posted By Bee On 11.06.2013 @ 11:27 pm
please know that my lungs were not made to run. they were not meant to burn but i cannot stand your wrists pressed away from mine. and i have made a lifetime off of quiet panting breaths when you have stolen my oxygen through my palms. please know that i have held this burn to my chest so i do not close my eyelids against yours.
» Posted By Bee On 10.21.2013 @ 7:22 pm
there are days when i will glue wings on to my eyelids, my wrists. my ankles. and run far far away from. hello and goodbye and how are you and fine. and there are days where i cannot bear the sight of your skin. and i will ease the ache in my chest by pushing my face against the wind.
» Posted By Bee On 10.21.2013 @ 7:18 pm
cut. cut. scrape. push away. you will scratch and scratch.
until the letters have become meaningless marks on meaningless
paper. you will grip your pencil like a lifeline. try to choke
words out of your throat. write. write.
» Posted By Bee On 10.09.2013 @ 9:56 pm
rustle. hush. quiet. breathe slow. you have a home in the forest. they whisper beneath your feet. they look like your mother’s eyes. and they smell like safety. there is no darkness here. they feel like security.
» Posted By Bee On 10.08.2013 @ 10:10 pm
I couldn’t move in the heated air of summer. Lethargic people laid on their lawn chairs in every yard, sweat dripping down their bleak faces as they were wrapped in the summer heat.
» Posted By Bee On 07.09.2013 @ 11:31 am
incomplete. not finished. a bit undone. left over. pieces maybe. something not quite there. and I wonder if you knew that. and maybe that’s why it was easier to go.
» Posted By Bee On 06.22.2013 @ 1:18 am
pairs. pairs. one with(out) the other. and maybe that’s what it always was. pairs. you and me. this and that. and I was always advertised as a pair. here. have her but you can take her sadness and her anger and her ache. they’re a pair. or not a pair. because pairs come in twos. and i came in thousands and billions and numbers they’ve not invented yet.
» Posted By Bee On 06.17.2013 @ 11:56 pm
Those things in computer screens, cameras, images. I don’t really know how they work. They use them to block out faces and secret information on tv, so they’re a sort of shield. There are more and more of them as technology gets better. How do they all fit in?
» Posted By Bee On 06.14.2013 @ 2:49 pm
the collage she created depicted a very unusual scene not of a love story that tina had intented but a barren landscape of greys and blacks with shadows and a few hints of sunshine
» Posted By Bee On 06.05.2013 @ 7:39 pm
I sat here…back and forth…back and forth…
I remembered she held me so tightly back then…back and forth…back and forth…
I wish we could have remained there forever…back and forth…back and forth…
But I had to grow up and she had to grow old.
She forgot who I was and mixed up our identities.
She mistook me for the guy who took her life away.
She took my life away…
Now all I can do is rock..back and forth…back and forth…
Holding that grudge until this perpetual forward and backward motion comes to a halt.
» Posted By Bee On 05.16.2013 @ 9:58 am
He sits in that goddamn rocking chair, creaking back and forth slowly. She can’t fathom why he’d want to bring a rocking chair to school with him in the first place, but smiles all the same as he curls up under a blanket and loses himself completely in his book.
» Posted By Bee On 05.15.2013 @ 11:54 pm
We had a hand. He had a back. Simply as stable knees, I watered down his drink. Then he snored. I thought to myself and said outloud, I think I like him better before.
» Posted By bee On 05.09.2013 @ 11:33 pm
stories. pages. ink. that’s what they think of when you say stories. but you think columns of a throat. you think eyes that are always justthere. you think you. when they say stories.
» Posted By Bee On 05.06.2013 @ 3:26 pm
they say burning is easy. but you try and light yourself on fire and it never happens. your fingers never curl like the edges of a page. and you are not devoured quickly. turning to grey ash. instead your skin peels and scrapes. as if unwilling to leave. and they say burning is easy.
» Posted By Bee On 05.05.2013 @ 9:00 pm
burning. and there are flames rising in your throat. columns of smoke pouring from your eyes. from your mouth. you are suffocating and burning all at once. it’s more like drowning than you would have imagined. your lungs are aching and you fight to breathebreathebreathe. you are drowning and burning and breathing and suffocating all at once.
» Posted By Bee On 05.05.2013 @ 6:14 pm
and you burn brighter than any star i’ve ever seen. and i am darker than any sky you’ve ever known. but you smile. and your lips are still here. and you don’t seem to mind my darkness. and i will revel in your light. and you warmth and here and stay. and you burn and i will not. and you stay.
» Posted By Bee On 04.14.2013 @ 3:01 am
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and you are more than a bright smile. and prettypretty eyes. you are here. you are a pull. and you are more alive than you have any right to be. and i can’t help it. don’t ask for it. and i think i will live in your shadow. and i think i will live.
» Posted By Bee On 04.14.2013 @ 2:58 am