Unquestionably yours. I am a book; read me until my pages are flayed, my corners are soft and worn, and I smell like the spices in your kitchen. I don't want to come out of this unscathed -- I hardly hope to embark on an easy journey, and my scars have always told the best stories, hidden the greatest triumphs. Tell my story again and again and again. That's the only way I want to be remembered.
I'm not afraid of adversity. I'd smash my heart on a rock if it would make for some good writing.
"I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions."
- Augusten Burroughs
My writing is split into categories below. If you want to read them uncategorized, they're all available under the writing tag. Enjoy!
*blushes* why, it’s me, kind sir.
All night, a man called “Allah”
Until his lips were bleeding.
Then the Devil said, “Hey! Mr Gullible!
How comes you’ve been calling all night
And never once heard Allah say, “Here, I am”?
You call out so earnestly and, in reply, what?
I’ll tell you what. Nothing!”
The man suddenly felt empty and abandoned.
Depressed, he threw himself on the ground
And fell into a deep sleep.
In a dream, he met Abraham, who asked,
“Why are you regretting praising Allah?”
The man said, “ I called and called
But Allah never replied, “Here I am.”
Abraham explained, “Allah has said,
“Your calling my name is My reply.
Your longing for Me is My message to you.
All your attempts to reach Me
Are in reality My attempts to reach you.
Your fear and love are a noose to catch Me.
In the silence surrounding every call of “Allah”
Waits a thousand replies of “Here I am.”
SIX-WORD STORY #30, 11:52 PM; 7/26/14
"I am a fucking earth .
My heart doesn’t beat .
It quakes .
Fuck you . I love me .”
—“Chest Quakes” by Joseph Cook
"…and he said: you pretty full of yourself ain’t chu so she replied: show me someone not full of herself
and i’ll show you a hungry person.”
—nikki giovanni, “a poem for a lady whose voice i like”
“‘You look invincible,’ my mother said one night.
I loved these times, when we seemed to feel the same thing. I turned to her, wrapped in my thin gown, and said:
—from “The Lovely Bones”
"You can wipe your feet on me, twist my motives around all you like, you can dump millstones on my head and drown me in the river, but you can’t get me out of the story. I’m the plot, babe, and don’t ever forget it."
—Margaret Atwood, Good Bones
"Even if it makes others uncomfortable, I will love who I am."
"I stopped looking for the light. Decided to become it instead."
—Francheska, of ‘Hey Fran Hey’
" …choose to believe in your own myth
your own glamour
your own spell
a young woman who does this
(even if she is just pretending)
—Francesca Lia Block, How to (Un)cage a Girl
"She survived whatever happened;
she forgave; she became.”
—W.H. Auden, “The Model”
come to me as though i hold hammer and nail in my hands
don’t come to me as though i can fix you
don’t look at me like Noah
i am not Noah.
i am the Flood.
you are five days Drought
and you think this means you want me
God does not plan His floods according to your pleas and
i am more years Flood
than you will ever be able to count on your hands
and i will drown out every last syllable of your name in pairs —
until you are ragged and tired of it
until only the o’s and a’s remain
until you are nothing but moaning, longing sighs —
before any part of my body decides to nourish you.
make not the mistake that water means life.
i am the water in falls,
and my foremost purpose is not to help you grow
it is to be as rigid and undeterrable as possible.
these hands were made rough not from gripping pillars and beams
but from holding on too long to things not meant for them.
they cannot build you a house
i cannot build you a house
i cannot kiss you like repair
only mouth you like a line from my favorite poem
like every word a prayer
like every prayer, sacred
like every sacred, a God,
like every God
10:11 PM; 6/20/14
TEN-WORD STORY #4, 12:29 PM; 6/20/14