She looked rumpled, like a warm bed.
Her dark hair tousled around her pale face, her dark eyes melting around her pupils. She smelled comfortable, her natural scent filling my nostrils, clean cotton saturated with body heat, lavender oil and delicate sweat. Her small frame was full in all the right places, her jeans loved her legs and her breasts snuggled under her sweater. All senses buzzed while in contact with her. Her thick eyelashes brushed her brow bones underneath defined brows. Her lips glistened, a rosy dew wet from her tongue. Her voice was soft, she spoke quickly, her lips uneven on one side, tilted, crooked as she smiled.

There are no walls, only doorways within this satchel on the backseat. I live my life out of a mixed laundry bag hung over my shoulder, pushed in the corner of a quiet , stark bedroom, a cozy cavern in a friend's home, nestled under my boyfriends bed. Home is the look in his eye, and the laughter generating between a blond haired green eyed girl who has shared the magic of adolescence and family dysfunction for five years. Home is where my footsteps lead me, where the gas mileages add up to, and nowhere. I am a traveler. I am a nomad that gathers dust on the windshield. I can polish her up and dress her down, she is my home. I am my own comfort, my only guarantee. The horizon is not my destination, discovery of a place long forgotten behind the road and under my mind a mini memory of a wide eyed four year old with chopped bangs hiding behind the living room door straining towards hissed whispers and the spark of something breaking hanging in the air is what i run from.

Her Golden Hair

I wish I was her golden hair;
Falling past her breasts.
I wish i was a crown to wear,
Tall and sleek, standing over pretty thoughts,
Sleeping quietly around her pulsing neck.

I wish I was her golden hair;
I would whisper nighttime feelings, sing stories of quiet desire.
I could feel her fingers running over me, warming to the tip.
Light and sweet I could linger
Twisted on her slender finger.

Your Gift

Peonies. Giant, Willy Wonka fantastical peonies with a scent that dizzies and intoxicates to a level unbeknownst to any other living being. Like laying atop a garden of flowers, a naturally beautiful, living, growing thing that brings calm and brightness to any day or moment. Like being outside, the warmth of the sun on your body, the smell of the grass and the wind and the pleasure of gazing out into the lush green life that the world can give. Even this scene, this thought does not compare to the love I feel. Not even flowers, my favorite gift, my favorite smell, can come close to your scent, the gift of you that I am able to wrap up in my arms. Only the pure, organic way life flows through a garden can be a metaphor for how our love fills me and runs through my mind and body. This is the only way my mind can comprehend it all.

Flaw

The inability to control her emotions pulls her apart, suffocating under the wave of doubt. She drives herself into a sort of madness, feeling restless and lost. She loves him with all her heart, with a frenzy of meaning and devotion; but something else distracts her in her mind. Insanity is not out of the question…something must be wrong with her, doesn't it? What spell has been cast on her, what is this curse? She picks fights, she feels out of control. Her chest hurts her, her head aches. The weight of regret lives inside for days and days and days.

not everything posted here is literal

rattled

wrapped up tight inside
this tiny bubble in my belly
I don't care what my momma says
I'm along for the ride

may take up all my time
stretch me from inside
but what's the cost of love?
devoted to my baby

daddy says he don't know what to do
his girls gone mad
maybe he'll imagine I'm dead
baby girl where's your head?

whoa.

Ok so I'm a little behind here. Let me work on something quick!

Annuals

If I could change from one face to the next
I would do so from a flower
If I could be the other woman you chose
I would bloom forth her breasts
Her lips would drip with dewy pollen
She wrapped around your stem
If I could have been the other woman
I would have said no
and planted a seed of 'do right' in your mind
If I could change from one face to the next
I could show myself what I lacked
for you to pluck her in our garden.

9.7

So many miles are worn onto your brow
I fail to be the strength your shoulders shed.
All I can do is be a body in your bed.
So many tears I would cry
your arms I could pry to wrap myself in
if only to keep you from the pain you now feel.
And what do I mean to allow your love and your sorrow
to run like a stream
down my spine
and seep into my heart?

Ex

He rested his head against her neck and his hand rested against her chest. He pulled back the fabric of her dress and ran his fingers against her skin. His eyes were glazed with a heat that burned in his pupils like coal; her body was ambrosia he soaked in through his fingertips. She lay back and stared at the ceiling. He loved her for her body, for her sex. That's what she thought, at that moment, seeing his face. She realized then, this grappling with what it was to be in love, to have a deep love for someone, was all in vain. She took for granted that the men who she fell into relationships with were boys, not yet adults…not quite children. They fell in love with her. They lusted for her and this power her body held frightened and saddened her…she was trapped inside of a mirage.
Is this all you were thinking about while I was away?
He looked into her face and slid his palm over her breast.

A Letter Through Her Throat

I wrote you a letter
In the shape of a blade.
The letters are stainless,
The punctuation is final.

I wrote you a letter,
In the form of a knife.
Paper cuts haven't been so deadly
Since I sharpened my words for you.

My tongue is red,
It can lick your wounds
Gushing like emotion
Onto this signed confession.

Your blood is red.
Blood has never been so red
Since my words cut through
Your throat, so white.

Pandora

She wandered the city like a lost soul trapped under the world near the shadowed rivers of death. Her body felt like decrepit dress draped over her decaying soul. What could save her from the depths of hell? The seeds of Hades stuck in her teeth and made her mouth dry.

Pretty Kitty

My kitty is pretty
her meow is wow
Her purrs have all the dawgs saying, "bow wow WOW"
My kitty seems gritty
she lets out a growl
It really feels shitty when they all have to howl.
My kitty is pretty
so please treat her nice
not all girls are made of simply sugar and spice.

Just checking in- I probably won't be posting any writing for about a week. I have to go back to school in 6 days and I'm starting at a new college, (Purchase) so I have a bunch of things to get done. Thanks for stopping by-check out the past posts if you haven't already - hannah

Magnolia

She wanted to drown in a bed of magnolias. Soft, pink blushing petals smothering her face, light filtering through the milky flesh reflecting tiny stars flashing signals past her dull, dead eyes. Trying to find a sign of life in a mind numbed by the pain of longing. She wanted to be wrapped in a blanket of dew and have it harden, crystallizing against her skin, encasing her soul in a shroud of untouchable perfection.

"Most of all, I want it to end."She looked up and her eyes penetrated deep.

"Sometimes I look out over the lights and the rooftops…and I look down at the unbending, solid ground and for a few minutes I want to be there, smashed to pieces. Lights out".

The Window

He stood naked in front of her, pale light falling across him that cut his features in sharp corners. The white of his skin, the calm pose against the window, arm pressed to the wall; his full nakedness exposed to the day, unfamiliar with shyness, fully powerful and all demanding of her gaze.

Shower

At night, the tears that would not form under her eyelids came in the shower; burning, hot tears that poured over her body down her breasts, licking her nipples, gathering between her legs and dripping onto her thighs. She watched through blurred vision as they drained her.

The Safe

I sit by the safe and know the code
To tempt the treasure from its grasp.
Itch and swear there is gold
To this knowledge so tightly I clasp.
For this parcel to come undone,
Time must stop for a day.
The value will surely come
If they would just do what I say.
I hold this secret
Very solid I keep it.
When all the tricks have turned
Looming danger can fade.
So maybe if I try I will have learned
From the trouble I started today.

testing

testing testing 1, 2, 3...feed on Twitter: Dookitten

Tied

I am tied to the veins under my skin.
I am connected to the bones in my body.
I am tied with little red and blue bows.
I am full of knots and strings.

I am tied to the mistakes you make.
I am connected to the actions you follow through.
I am tied with little black and gray bows.
I am full of knots and strings.

I am tied to the demons you arouse.
I am connected to the pain they inflict.
I am tied with little spiked bows.
I am full of constricting knots and poison strings.

I am tied to you.
I am connected by the horrors my heart suffers through.
I am tied with turmoil.
I am full of knots and strings.

short

She spoke at me, "I see you in hindsight."

Her rounded shoulder rotated into the definite line of her pointed chin as she tossed the words behind her. The two parts connected and nestled together. I could feel the perspiration that gathered against her skin against the tip of my tongue as I rubbed the backs of my teeth.

The soft padding of her feet fell against the floor like the disappearing villain at the end of a dark tunnel. My hands rubbed the splintered wall as my breathing slowed. I imagined the dark cavern of her body surrounding me, the heat of her burning right through me. She was the night; dangerous, soft, cool.

We moved between worlds, melting and molding within dreams. The electric shocks of her touch on my pale skin, I swear left red welts.

The kitchen knives created a glittering lake across the kitchen floor. The portrait, a now empty carcass in the hallway. My pocket knife jammed into the now gouged eyes sockets of her face.

this isn't going to be....

So I think I've decided this isn't going to be me rambling about where I went to lunch today or what my sister did that I thought was cute..ok well she is so freakin adorable maybe there will be one or two things...but I started this blog because I want to have a future as a writer and this might be an outlet to share my work etc. etc. so I'm going to post some writing I've done and then eventually post the newer stuff I've worked on but no biggie-- if no one reads this than no one can tell me I'm foolish & my writing sucks and at least I'll be writing more than I have been lately (and ok- if anyone saw Julie&Julia or whatever it's called you know what she said about having a deadline bla bla bla ....i'm so lame)

diving in

Trend or the new future for writers everywhere...who can be sure but might as well give it a shot. Welcome, hello, thanks for stopping by. Slowling vibing off the coffee tingle & wondering what the hell I'm doing.