Comments Posted By Cloud
Displaying 1 To 23 Of 23 Comments
It’s in the air that passes between us: the lint, the words, the empty eyes, all of it in the open orbiting.
We’ll always be worlds apart. There’s nothing, not even glue, for people like me and you.
» Posted By Cloud On 09.27.2016 @ 9:14 pm
to give you everything of myself without the silly glitter. How I wish you wouldn’t drown me with your shit, the sticky mold that you think will help it all come together… to really make it come to life. I don’t wish to exaggerate anymore
» Posted By Cloud On 02.25.2013 @ 10:51 am
Elephants have really long trunks. Or are they called noses? Is it the same thing? I mean, trunks are also that part of the car in the back that opens. But also swim trunks are things you wear to the pool or the ocean. I wish I could take a swim. It’s so hot here. Ugh. Trunks.
» Posted By Cloud On 03.22.2012 @ 1:24 pm
There are cacti in the desert
Many of them
In fact I think that if weren’t for the tiny cactus on my shelf I would say
that all cacti live in the desert
Where birds make their homes in their fleshy insides
And where Sokka drinks the wrong cactus’s juice
» Posted By Cloud On 12.29.2011 @ 12:27 pm
The white branch crackled across the dark sky. Clouds rumbled and twisted out of the bolt’s way as it streaked toward its wooden counterpart. The tree snapped as the bolt sent a shock down the trunk. With a whoosh, the tree was aflame.
» Posted By Cloud On 07.26.2011 @ 10:02 am
I’ve gotten too much sun recently, and the muscles in my arms are sore. The warm weather has gotten to my head and I feel ill. Perhaps I should get more sleep, or drink some more water. Maybe I should remember to put on sunscreen before leaving the house…
» Posted By Cloud On 07.24.2011 @ 12:21 pm
Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.
» Posted By Cloud On 07.24.2011 @ 5:39 am
Ah, a ticket. Tickets to the circus are my favorite kind. No, no. My FAVORITE kind of ticket is that kind that doesn’t exist. Platform 9 3/4, anyone? I’d die if I ever got that ticket for real. Imagine the destinations you would reach. The journeys that would happen with just that one ticket…?
» Posted By Cloud On 07.22.2011 @ 5:49 pm
I remember, once, my mother came home and started grading her fifth graders’ tests. When asked to name all the colors of the rainbow, some misspelled “violet” as “violent”.
» Posted By Cloud On 07.21.2011 @ 9:46 am
Scared, and dark. Things are confusing. Crying. Laughing. Emotion swirling, wind blowing, falling down and down and down. Dark tunnel, light growing smaller. Where are the stars? No stars in the sky. Where is the moon. Only the black, empty fabric of space.
» Posted By Cloud On 06.11.2011 @ 5:01 pm
Her parched lips touched the warm metal spout of the canteen and she signed. There wasn’t even a drop of water that could be scrounged to ease her thirst.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.26.2011 @ 12:41 pm
She carried the torch down the beach. The red flames flickered in the high wind. Heat radiated off the red and on her face. She smiled.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.25.2011 @ 2:09 pm
Booth, from Bones. Booth, Superman becoming himself from Clark Kent. Booth, those 3D glasses you get in the movie theater. The 1920’s, the Tommy hun, black and white and sepia tones, Cigar smoke in a saloon room. Booth.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.24.2011 @ 12:07 pm
Hmm, pretzel. Or should I say, “Mmm”! The twisted rolls of dough… I’ve never made pretzels, you know. That’s something I should do. What did they originate as? Prayer rewards? They are delicious.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.22.2011 @ 2:53 pm
Like a thief in the night darkness will find you. The Book Thief by Cornelia Funke. That song that Rasputin sings in Fox’s ‘Anastasia’. Thievery Plagiarism. Stolen bread that isn’t really stolen but still. The Boy With The Bread.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.23.2011 @ 1:09 pm
A violent word that brings about a tired sigh. I don’t like the implications of this word. The red sky filled with flame and hate, where the only red light shines from a tower because the sun hasn’t been seen in years. The only other color is black, like the charred buildings and cars and people. All because one person was angry enough to take revenge on people he had never met.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.22.2011 @ 5:45 am
Horses, cats, dogs, animals, barns, farms, domestic, calm, manners, self-control, repectful, tied-down, restricted, smothered, homely, lovely, altogether DOMESTIC in the domestic sense of the word. Maybe. You get this? I don’t.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.19.2011 @ 12:33 pm
Mole? Wow. Like the animal or the face mark? I thought of a combination of the creature on the face but then that would be silly because moles live underground. Okay, okay, I understand that the very idea is silly. I apologize. Well— wait, what? My time’s up?
» Posted By Cloud On 05.18.2011 @ 12:00 pm
Funny, how I pulled up tempted one oneword just as I promised myself that I would accomplish this writing exercise, treat myself to something that’s been nagging at me since I got home mere minutes ago, and then move on to 750words. I was tempted to skip the two of these, but I knew I would never get back to them…
» Posted By Cloud On 05.17.2011 @ 12:13 pm
The curious thing about things is circuses. Not in the cheery nostalgic way but in the sense that that old menagerie and rustic feel of the freak-shows were in of itself curious. The Curious Circus, the Queerest of All and the Normal-est of None.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.16.2011 @ 12:05 pm
The girl looked behind her, into the mist. She couldn’t see the Starline that well. The faint outline of the old bungalow was nearly out of sight. She couldn’t see the man on the porch who waved good-bye. Already, true to his word, Starline Hollow looked like a forgotten city.
» Posted By Cloud On 05.15.2011 @ 11:50 am
He tipped back the glass and let the clear liquid pour out onto the counter. The girl next to him raised her eyebrows, drowning whatever she was about to say in her own glass of an orange-tinted martini. “Vodka,” he said to no one in particular. “Vodka is the stuff for filthy counter tops.”
» Posted By Cloud On 05.14.2011 @ 3:21 pm
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hut smutt like a trutt with a butt but i’m not one to look at those or am i? what’s the time when time rounds out of the clock’s face.
broken face. smashed in window on the roof of the hut what a slut.
what a slag
» Posted By Cloud On 12.17.2009 @ 7:00 pm