Nothing but a porcelain doll.

U havent posted anything anymore? Where are you?

Fri, 06 Jan 2012 19:31:00 -0500

My humblest apologies, first of all, and I thank you for your concern.

School and numerous extracurricular activities are flimsy excuses compared to a lack of inspiration and that’s exactly what’s been plaguing me.

I’m trying to catch the writing bug again, but it’s hard.

I can’t promise I’ll be writing consistently again but I can promise sporadic posts. I can’t promise the same style or content either since I like to think I’ve evolved—but I do want to improve my writing so the same person will be stringing phrases and words together, just not in the same way.

That’s the best I can promise for the moment, and I’ll try my best to keep that promise.

Sometimes I wish I could just will it away.

Fri, 09 Sep 2011 22:20:59 -0400

Just one swipe and all will be conveniently forgotten and that smile would be genuine and I would have wrinkles in the corners of my eyes and that hushabye mouth.

Some people feel entitled to their memories—the rush of falling water, a lick of frozen cream,...

Fri, 09 Sep 2011 22:18:00 -0400

Some people feel entitled to their memories—the rush of falling water, a lick of frozen cream, sand callused on their toes. A peal of laughter. A warm hug. From my first moment of complete awareness, I have been feeling guilt. They drop by swiftly, these bouts of sudden lucidity.

They come as I spoon vanilla frosting onto my sun-scorched fingers, as I lock eyes with a stray squirrel, hasty with a lingering nut. They come as I prance on a newly-paved road, while memories of harsh gravel scrape across the surface of my skull. They come as the scent of the freshly cracked spine of a novel tickles by and I am struck with visions of tiny hands with tiny scars and tiny eyes with fathoms six feet deep. And when they come to visit, I shiver and drop my own eyes—eyes that have seen too little, and will always be nervous around eyes that have seen too much.

What scares me is the uncertainty, the indecision. All I want to do is spend the rest of my life...

Fri, 09 Sep 2011 22:03:00 -0400

What scares me is the uncertainty, the indecision. All I want to do is spend the rest of my life taking away the pain. Some see me with loose hair, loose limbs and a loose smile. Others picture me in a lab coat, goggles and a severe bun. But what do I see? Nothing. It’s just pure fear for me, a lifetime of regret and dissatisfaction. What if I waste thousands of dollars for an attempt? Is it worth the risk?

I don’t have the aptitude for the sciences or the maths—so why do I want this? And it’s not like I’m steeped in desire for it. I just feel sort of “Oh, well, my parents will be happy and I’ll be able to help people and that would be just great.” about it. I’m not raring to go to medical school. I’m not crazy about taking the MCAT. The thought of years of calculus and chemistry and biology frightens me. I immediately recoil from the slightest mention of physics. But to go against my nature and push for a future of stress and emotional burden just for the power to heal? I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t have determination on my side. Nor strength.

So why does it push me?

Well, sometimes I like to think. And sometimes that doesn’t involve you. Or at least...

Mon, 08 Aug 2011 00:28:59 -0400

Well, sometimes I like to think. And sometimes that doesn’t involve you.

Or at least that’s how it ought to be.

Today the ache of summer evenings twiddled softly beneath my skin, and for a moment, I knew freedom...

Tue, 02 Aug 2011 18:05:05 -0400

Today the ache of summer evenings twiddled softly beneath my skin, and for a moment, I knew freedom in the ghost of my sister’s laughter. My mother’s lily white skin somehow rang of empty clouds as she brought the tin fork of marble cake towards her lips and my father’s guffaws did me in. They were all fools encapsulated in that bittersweet heartbreak of vast and endless time which was nothing but an illusion to be sipped outside during warm nights out in the patio.

I am so sick of love and the idea of a perfect valentine. I am so sick of pretention laced in a...

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 18:00:05 -0400

I am so sick of love and the idea of a perfect valentine. I am so sick of pretention laced in a devil’s smile. I am so sick of quiet laughter and heated stares. I am so sick of if-onlys and regrets. I am so sick of coaxing you out of your shell. I am so sick of longing and I am so sick of dreaming. I am so sick of heartache and I am so sick of lies. I am so sick of butterflies and the idea of locking eyes across the room, of heartbeats and tapsteps and lipgloss and plastic skin and sallow eyes and foolish thoughts and pinprick fingertips, callous and rough. I am so sick of pretty words and reluctant laughter captured in a death smirk and I am so tired of you.

Your chocolate skin has melted into an arid desert and the oasis I once thought of as your coffee eyes have dried up. Your liquid voice brings me nothing but anger; fantasies are meant to be broken. The sight of you used to play bass drums in the centre of my chest but it’s been reduced to emptiness; I am solid and hollow and you will never fill me. Free me from this pointless attraction; used to be we were magnets but now I want to flee. Used to be you were my muse elusive on moth’s wings; now I wish I could grasp the hands of time and leave these emotions in the past.

I don’t want to keep memories of you. I only think of escape.

Hey! I noticed that your a writer, and I just started a new writing/reading blog.
You should check it out, and tell your followers about it if you like it!

http://readitandwriteit.tumblr.com/

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 02:46:58 -0400

Ahh, sorry for being so late in answering this! No excuses; I’ve just been a very, very lazy person.

I quite like this collection of writing prompts you’ve started. It’s a great way to garner inspiration; I’m one of your new followers. Thanks so much for taking the time to share. :)

Maybe today I’ll set your memory on fire so that you will be reduced to nothing but ashes in...

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 02:43:09 -0400

Maybe today I’ll set your memory on fire so that you will be reduced to nothing but ashes in the wake of the flame that will consume the miasmic barrier between my past and present selves.

Maybe yesterday I would have stroked the elephant’s skin but today I wanted ivory lace draped...

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 02:31:37 -0400

Maybe yesterday I would have stroked the elephant’s skin but today I wanted ivory lace draped across my collarbones. Where else can I put the well-worn fools but underneath the silk of fine delicacies, to be buried under the sunsets of those last May evenings?

Once, I was afraid of platitudes, of unwon compliments masquerading as authentic, of tooth-liars,...

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 02:01:01 -0400

Once, I was afraid of platitudes, of unwon compliments masquerading as authentic, of tooth-liars, with their promises of fool’s gold. Now it seems I cannot sift the sand from the ore, that I’ve lost the desire to. Maybe I’ll stay where they want me to stay, and maybe I’ll listen to what they want me to hear; and maybe I’ll keep the hollow knocking in my chest, this twice tapping beat that sinks to the very fibre, to the very core.

But could it be that I could be the same? That I dole out the same pamphlets of salvation that stick to my bones and paste it onto theirs?

And it was then that I saw the hunger in her sunken eyes, a hunger that was of unspoken longing,...

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 01:54:42 -0400

And it was then that I saw the hunger in her sunken eyes, a hunger that was of unspoken longing, bitter silence, of the loss of a day or two in the sunshine, one with no words; one borne of loneliness and casual decisions wrung in tired hands and dead thoughts, with no mother or father to soothe or console, with only a tired old sister waking for the same pathetic hope.

And that hunger…was a pain I could not quell, not with the slipping of hands around soft shoulders or gratuitous “I-love-you”s and “I-promise-to-visit-you-soon”s. But she longed for it all the same. It was a hunger that would stay for the rest of her days, and she knew this.

I bit my lip. It felt like an intrusion, a conversation I was not supposed to hear.

Plucked anew from soiled sand, we were licking stars— Promise, moon. Death toils under unruly...

Thu, 14 Jul 2011 21:28:59 -0400

Plucked anew from soiled sand,

we were licking stars—

Promise, moon.

Death toils under unruly night,

seas tossing galleons of human pearls—

Promise, moon.

Sad charms drift to cloudless skies,

bottled spirits in tune to sorrow—

Promise, moon.

Status: Drowning under paper, pens, monitor glares; too much homework, commitments, job...

Sun, 29 May 2011 16:43:02 -0400

Status: Drowning under paper, pens, monitor glares; too much homework, commitments, job applications, tests, etc.

I know I haven’t been posting in a while anyway, but I thought I should just make my temporary hiatus official. I’ll be back in a few weeks and by then, I’ll have time to get back to you on your messages. Here’s to finishing this disastrous year as well as can be expected.

Adios~

I'm looking to start a youth poetry slam team in the NYC/Northeast New Jersey area, and I'm trying to get the word out. Thus, if you would be so kind as to post this, I'd be very grateful to you. If you're interested in the details, feel free to make good use of the ask box!

As for location and schedule, it will be arranged according to the convenience of the participants, so they are yet to be determined.

Thanks, and I hope to hear from you!

Mon, 23 May 2011 23:14:18 -0400

I would love to try this out—except New York’s not exactly my scene. Thus, to whom this applies, why not check it out? Seems like a cool experience!

i’m torn between spent nights, writhing restless on soaked sheets bruised elbows on silent...

Sun, 22 May 2011 18:00:06 -0400

i’m torn between

spent nights, writhing restless
on soaked sheets

bruised elbows on silent fingertips;

false slumber where
mouths meet, touch speaks

we are nothing but fires flickering on lonely coals, our frowns spilled on dying ashesflames,...

Sat, 21 May 2011 18:00:00 -0400

we are nothing but fires flickering on lonely coals,
our frowns spilled on dying ashes
flames, ebbing
embers cheap, dark as tar—

we’re pale in the moonless night;
our hands tickle the creases on our palms and our lips
meet but the stars in your eyes have faded
my fingers are shackles;
wrinkled whispers taint the dimness, mar this oasis of silk and sand
you tell me—
we’ll stay, my love, though dusk has fallen.
but will you
unclasp my wrist
(from yours)
pull me tight
and let me go?

i feel most alive when i think every breath is my last.

Fri, 20 May 2011 21:22:00 -0400

i feel most alive when i think every breath is my last.

forget it, sweet, please—before you poison my lips with hollow wordsand peppered fingers.

Fri, 20 May 2011 19:57:00 -0400

forget it, sweet, please—
before you poison my lips
with hollow words
and peppered fingers.

my mind is a dry damned prison cell; no walls no creases just the sweetly springing ticktock of...

Thu, 19 May 2011 18:05:06 -0400

my mind is a dry damned prison cell;

no walls no creases just the
sweetly springing ticktock of
chaos in the doldrums of
an idle head

Nothing but a porcelain doll.

U havent posted anything anymore? Where are you?

Sometimes I wish I could just will it away.

Some people feel entitled to their memories—the rush of falling water, a lick of frozen cream,...

What scares me is the uncertainty, the indecision. All I want to do is spend the rest of my life...

Well, sometimes I like to think. And sometimes that doesn’t involve you. Or at least...

Today the ache of summer evenings twiddled softly beneath my skin, and for a moment, I knew freedom...

I am so sick of love and the idea of a perfect valentine. I am so sick of pretention laced in a...

Hey! I noticed that your a writer, and I just started a new writing/reading blog. You should check it out, and tell your followers about it if you like it! http://readitandwriteit.tumblr.com/

Maybe today I’ll set your memory on fire so that you will be reduced to nothing but ashes in...

Maybe yesterday I would have stroked the elephant’s skin but today I wanted ivory lace draped...

Once, I was afraid of platitudes, of unwon compliments masquerading as authentic, of tooth-liars,...

And it was then that I saw the hunger in her sunken eyes, a hunger that was of unspoken longing,...

Plucked anew from soiled sand, we were licking stars— Promise, moon. Death toils under unruly...

Status: Drowning under paper, pens, monitor glares; too much homework, commitments, job...

i’m torn between spent nights, writhing restless on soaked sheets bruised elbows on silent...

we are nothing but fires flickering on lonely coals, our frowns spilled on dying ashesflames,...

i feel most alive when i think every breath is my last.

forget it, sweet, please—before you poison my lips with hollow wordsand peppered fingers.

my mind is a dry damned prison cell; no walls no creases just the sweetly springing ticktock of...

Hey! I noticed that your a writer, and I just started a new writing/reading blog.
You should check it out, and tell your followers about it if you like it!

http://readitandwriteit.tumblr.com/