Comments Posted By Chameleon
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“Here’s the deal,” the eyes are serious. Wrinkles form in the corners, very fine lines, underscoring the message with micro-expressions that lead to micro-aggressions, “You don’t actually get me at all. So only in this can we be in agreement. Comprehend, stupid?”
I mumble something back like “like blah, blah, blah” or “Bob Lob Law.” It’s stunning what she says when it cuts to the heart. I barely recover even enough to utter these trifling lines. But if I recall we wouldn’t have developed this shorthand if I didn’t somewhat understand.
The eyes are blank. Like nothing said matters.
“Case in point.” she says, blows a bubble, chomps it, and walks away like a blood-furious shark.
» Posted By Chameleon On 11.30.2016 @ 11:53 am
The hand of intention is lead by perception. In this frame of mind coordination is to causation as subtly is either to pleasing effect or outright manipulation. Ideas stack upon themselves. Build like a box with pieces reorienting to fit the narrative. You say “Wall!” and I say “Where?” as I walk through the places I’m told not to go. I have no choice. The barriers are always there.
» Posted By Chameleon On 11.22.2016 @ 12:26 pm
They told me the timbre of your voice would rattle around my ears if the stress and the pitch matched some unknown and unique frequency. Here’s the scene: no low ecstatic buzz, no pumping blood, no passion. The kiss between two old friends becomes too comfortable, less charged. I don’t want to feel complacent in place of what is wild, alive, and driven. I want to feel anticipation at the edges of my lips because the voice in my ear stirs more than the air around us. Reflect it, absorb it, reorient myself around it.
» Posted By Chameleon On 11.19.2016 @ 11:19 am
I shift my perspective a million times a year. That might be a low ball figure. It’s not just what’s around me, it’s what’s in my head: a repeating line of thought that ages like a rope twisting with the pull of tides. Thoughts are loosely moored despite the shifting sands, at least until my coil, this lifeline, should snap: Who will I be when I die? Will I have been successful in what mattered to me most? Will I have loved and lived deeply enough to justify my “blink of an eye” existence? Did I spend that time wisely? Consider the average human life is short when compared to any of the great epochs. It’s something of a history. To-date? It’s been exciting and it’s been ordinary even though it’s been at times extraordinary. Not the average path at all as I took Frost’s advice and ran with it “…because it was grassy and wanted wear.”
» Posted By Chameleon On 10.11.2016 @ 1:24 pm
I saw the stain on his color. Red. Revlon. My heart seared with violence. I wanted nothing more than to rip his heart out on the spot. To repay the favor.
» Posted By Chameleon On 05.29.2010 @ 1:25 am
Propulsion. I am propelled through the air as his fist connects with my jaw, sending shockwaves through my teeth into my head. The glass shatters against the contact with my back and tiny microscopic cuts from shards, millions of shards are carved into my back. Crash.
» Posted By Chameleon On 04.18.2010 @ 1:43 pm
I stood there. The lights getting closer. Eyes wide. Pupils shrink. My mouth dropped open before the hood connected with my ribs, shattering every one of them. I flew up into the air, rolling across the top of the car and off the back. Whoever said that time goes slower during these kinds of things was a damn liar.
» Posted By Chameleon On 04.13.2010 @ 3:40 pm
Curls. Curls of hair trickle down across my thighs as she rests her head in my lap. They are golden. She turns to look at me with those eyes, those strange eyes that held something behind them. Secrets. Deception. Betrayal. Last breaths.
» Posted By Chameleon On 04.12.2010 @ 7:48 pm
Pious. What is pious? I find it synonymous with hypocrisy. Holy doesn’t exist anymore. Judge and be judged. If the “holy” want to judged, then they will be judged just the same. Holy is an excuse to throw things at people. To hurt people with words.
» Posted By Chameleon On 04.08.2010 @ 10:03 pm
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black dirty mines dust-covered men fuel heat burning black soot and smut digging chipping rough
» Posted By chameleon On 08.13.2008 @ 10:22 am