She is there, but she is not.
She thinks the pavement under her body is hard and sharp, but she isn’t sure. It might be a black color, or maybe yellow, but it seems harsh and it seems to be digging into her arms… but perhaps it is as soft as a cloud? After all, appearances can be deceiving, she remembers.
She thinks that she can see red and perhaps even yellow lights, but why aren’t there purple, or blue, or orange, or green?
Purple and blue are such pretty colors.
She wears them often, she remembers. She suddenly realizes that she can’t feel the brush of her clothing against her skin. Perhaps the clothing has sunken into her skin, she reasons. Perhaps the pretty colors entered her bloodstream, and she is pretty now too.
She thinks she can hear the rumble of cars, the honks of their horns, the murmuring of people…
I am in the middle of an intersection, she realizes. I am in a city. I am wearing purple and blue. I am lying on the pavement, and it might hurt.
They can’t see me.
And she feels relief. After all, she might be lying in the middle of an intersection, naked. And appearances can be deceiving.
But when she tries to sit up, there is something else. Cold. Hard. Biting. Cutting.
She tries to sit up again, but it bites back. It slices at her arm, her left one, and the skin splits like butter. Blood gushes out.
She screams at the sight of it. It’s too real. Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop stopstopstopstop. STOP.
And suddenly, the city moves faster. The people, some laughing, some crying, some smiling, some frowning, all moving, running, flying, sprinting––all in life, all in motion, all blurs that she wanted to touch, wanted to reach for, wanted to feel the brush of warm smiles and smears of ugly tears… And the cars, all comets, leaving a trail of fire and smoke before fading into the night sky and glimmering like stars… The buildings, collapsing inwards, crumbling to the floor and creating billows of dust that grew and embraced the air with an ecstatic cry…
She’s suddenly running with them. Running, smiling, laughing, crying, flying. She feels the life pounding in her chest, curling its fingers around her bones and thundering in her veins. She feels alive, green with vivacity, green with passion and hopes and dreams and simply being, green like the lights.
She thinks she might hear a distant monotone beep, but she doesn’t want to think anymore. No, she is free, free and alive like music.
This is an abstract writing piece that I decided to write after watching and feeling inspired by the conceptual music video for “Hurricane” by Thirty Seconds To Mars. It is a bit hard to understand, but the interpretation of it is supposed to be your own. However, this is what I had in mind as I was writing it:
The protagonist is a girl who is in a coma. She is stuck in her own mind, fettered and in chains, so to speak. Thus, the traffic lights are always red or yellow, and she is stuck under them, unable to move freely. She also cannot use her senses correctly because she is stuck in a void between life and death, thus resulting in her being unsure of her surroundings. The fact that she is always ‘thinking’ also shows that she is stuck in her mind.
The reason why she is in a coma is due to some type of abuse, most likely from an abusive relationship. The purple and blue soaking in from her clothing to her skin represents bruises and internal bleeding. These bruises, the internal bleeding, and the cut on her left arm represent injuries sustained in her ‘real’ life.
Later, the sight of blood on her arm triggers her senses, making her clearly see and feel the pain. This jumpstarts and creates a whirlwind of feeling, and the city finally moves and becomes alive, bringing her with it. She is green with vivacity because the traffic lights are finally green, and she is free.
The monotone beep in the end is the sound of the heart-monitoring machine, a glimpse of ‘reality’. Through her death, she is freed from the confines of her mind.
Moonlight dapples your skin
With intricate vines and pearls and melodies,
Your irises swirl with gold:
Honey and wind and––
Breathe, in and out, fly away––
Your hands reach out, warm with sun rays––
But it’s just that, a reflection in the water,
Clear one moment, and shattered the next;
One moment winding your fingers through my heart,
Another constricting, suffocating,
Squeezing until all that’s left is a
I will listen to the beat of your heart
And pretend that it could replace the void in mine.
1.4 million wizards on Tumblr!
1.4 MILLION WIZARDS ON TUMBLR
Almost 3 Million!!!!
LET’S GET THIS TO 5 MILLION!!
Let’s get 5 million!!!
I REBLOG THIS EVERY TIME IT’S ON MY DASH.
WE NEED 7 MILLIONTHE NOTES. OH GOD
just about every person on tumblr.
THIRTEEN MILLION GUYS!!!
14 FUCKING MILLION
“Tearful” by Christina K
No fucking way
Dear Little Voice,
Please stop whispering bitter words in my ear.
It’s only because of you
That winter trickles down my back,
And shadows snake their greedy fingers around my neck,
Breathing their poison into my lungs.
Please, do stop fighting me,
The coils around my throat are too tight,
And liquid diamonds dangle dangerously in the gallows,
Until they finally tip over, screaming, and shatter only to wake up in Hell,
Left with nothing but cracked wings.
Dear Voice in my Head,
Your flames have burnt a scorching path through my arteries;
Your fangs have sunk into the core of the core,
And your claws, they tear and rip and shred
Through the very flesh of my being.
What diamonds do I have now, what cracked wings,
What lungs, what fleeting breath?
I cannot feel the flames anymore.
I cannot feel the poison or the coils,
The fingers or the claws.
I cannot see red, or black, or hope,
I cannot understand your hazy murmurs
But I’d like to think that they
I do not accept them.
Dear Little Voice,
I cannot hear you.
I cannot hear me.
Where is the pulse of my arteries?
Where is the core
Of the core?
Where are my demons?
Please, please come back.
I have lost myself.