Comments Posted By moth

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ballet

He stumbled off the stage, heady with adrenaline and the still ringing applause. They loved it. He loved it. He –. It didn’t matter. Basic training started in a week. The people who truly mattered HADN’T loved it. He just wasn’t good enough. Since he couldn’t make himself happy, he figured that his family’s happiness was second best. Wasn’t war just another dance?

» Posted By Moth On 03.21.2015 @ 11:41 pm

undone

She violently ripped out the quilt’s stitches. It was wrong, wrong, wrong. It was nothing like what it was supposed to be, nothing. It was meant to represent the unity of the two clans, but it’s design, like the negotiations, had all fallen apart. All that the clan leader had worked for had come undone. True, the diplomacy had failed before the pattern did, but oh, was she bitter. She had gathered scrap from every matron in the clan and spent long hours rubbing camp smoke out of her eyes with needle pricked fingers as she worked.

» Posted By Moth On 03.18.2015 @ 10:44 am

. i was already given this prompt .

» Posted By Moth On 03.17.2015 @ 10:17 pm

She viciously ripped out the stitches for the quilt. It was wrong, wrong, wrong. It was nothing like what it was supposed to be, nothing. It was meant to represent the unity of the two clans but it’s design, like the negotiations, had all fallen apart. All that the clan leader had worked for had come undone. True, the diplomacy had failed before the pattern did, but oh, was she bitter.

» Posted By Moth On 03.17.2015 @ 9:59 pm

artwork

The toddlers beamed up at their frazzled mother, never such pride. Their Frazzled Mother looked at their soiled hands, then up at the wall- their diapers were empty, and the walls would be a bitch to clean..

» Posted By Moth On 05.24.2014 @ 12:37 am

unknown

She could hear nothing but the whisper of the wind. She could see nothing but shadow. Every cell pulsed and hummed, the moment she stopped believing in anything unknown. Even gnostics are theorists, really, but you couldn’t tell her that. Every color was a sign from God. Finally, the whispers sang.

Or, on the other hand, there was the thick fog that suffocated the unsteadied, untrained, Uns, the UNs at all. Are you at all “un”? Then stay away.

Clearly, the day was too loosed and confused to produce anything of insight.

It all remains unknown.

» Posted By Moth On 05.19.2014 @ 8:34 pm

airport

Liminal space, threshold- comings, yes, sweet cummings sort of twisted turns, but goings too, and trusting that their echo will be enough to let a squawking mind tweet and toddle in the cardboard world.

» Posted By Moth On 05.06.2014 @ 6:58 pm

stillness

Like caught in mire, some trapped, some hearts beating manic under amber syrup paralysis. Me- my brows are furrowed beneath the ice- the final moving muscles in the face- be like the moth, be moth, wings spread never needing to create, just to feel the sun in the gold moon cracks of wing

» Posted By Moth On 04.23.2014 @ 11:52 am

sterile

Cold blue and the smell of rubber. She dropped it on the floor. The heart, the human heart, right on the linoleum. “Oh no, how will we eat it now?” She chuckled. “Just kidding.” She licked it off and handed it to the doctor.

» Posted By Moth On 04.17.2014 @ 9:26 pm

commission

Being made to recall a dream like wandering foam slips through light crack window no hope, no ear, tilt your head just slightly to the left watch the foam thought dribble out

» Posted By Moth On 04.16.2014 @ 2:01 pm

strike

Lightning did hit twice, long ago, in purple deserts and in the hearts of displaced workers whose dusty arms shake under the weight of the signs they doubt can do a damn thing to achieve equity. Balance, strive.

» Posted By Moth On 04.11.2014 @ 11:54 am

still

Whoops! Thought Entry, The Second would replace the first- just edited a couple words- welcome to a visual of the editing process!

» Posted By Moth On 04.09.2014 @ 11:47 am

In this state of raw openness, there is no stillness. In the quiet, the red threads of the dream catcher hum and pulsate. Believe in the shape, believe in the magic of a painting forged from pain, 200 years ago. It is silent, though charged with fractal mirroring images of Self. Shake me until every dead bird lump caught in my organs is freed- I don’t want a feather left. Move me, I cannot stand (the) still, still.

» Posted By Moth On 04.09.2014 @ 11:46 am

In this state of raw openness, there is no stillness. In the quiet, the red threads of the dream catcher hum and pulsate. Believe in the shape, believe in the magic of a painting forged from pain, 200 years ago. It is silent, still though- charged with fractal mirroring images of Self. Shake me until every dead bird lump caught in my organs is freed- I don’t want a feather left. Move me, I cannot stand (the) still, still.

» Posted By Moth On 04.09.2014 @ 11:43 am

adolescent

Oily skin, heavy backpacks, food particle metal mouths open and shut to let partially informed opinions flow in, out. Some wide-eyed and open eared, others cling with gecko tenacity to the walls of institutionalized thought, how we manic through the homework, welcome to the constant test, competition is everything, honor student smokes dope and doesn’t regret it. Gets caught by her little sister whose cheeks turn the color the older sister saw in her underwear for the first time three weeks ago.

» Posted By moth On 03.30.2014 @ 4:44 pm

gold

Aztec chocolate- the maiden drips with turquoise, feeds me luscious cacao- I am burnt, I am a-tremble. Our last enounter, tonight she will ascend, her virgin status makes her ripe for Goddess consummation.

» Posted By Moth On 03.26.2014 @ 12:54 pm

repressed

Anguish to the anchor, anger, hang her, derrange her, her, her, what we fuhrer the most- fear her, fear of her, the feminine, the fire, how it rose wild orange at my scream

» Posted By moth On 03.24.2014 @ 7:40 pm

seconds

A person has only so many seconds too their name. From the moment they are born, it becomes a count down. The true question is, when does the timer stop?

» Posted By moth On 08.13.2010 @ 4:54 pm

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