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Her cry is the first intrusion of my solitude. I stand unmoving on the small grains of sand. The crushed rocks of centuries move cold between my toes. The breeze plays on the surface of my skin, rippling my nerves at its very touch. I see the loon. She is gliding alone, so graceful that not even the lake cares to make a sound as she moves.
There he sits in front of the television, watching a movie he's seen a million times. I have to tell him soon, before I lose my nerve. It was so much simpler to tell my mom; she didn't judge. My dad would. He would say that it was my fault, even though I couldn't have controlled what happened, or he wouldn't say anything at all and simply ignore me like every time I disappoint him.
The air is thin here, on this desolate plateau, but the stench of disaster is inescapable. Streaks of soot and shattered rock point the way to the demolished behemoth that fell from the sky. The solidity of the earth seems misleading, as though it should still be shuddering at the violence done to it, and the absence of the sounds of destruction is deafening.
In the morning When i woke up, After i took a leak, I looked in the mirror To see my smile: I had just woken up Next to beauty! It seems that I had not left you In our bed, Because upon my chin Hung a lone, long Pale hair of the color Yellow daisies seem to be.
Blazing eyes and dancing barefoot Dancing wildly in the stacks Knowledge at our fingertips (LOL) These are the moments This is my 1970 Dancing skirts across a quad (JK) Laughing about something A fickle professor A new form of macro-super, belch-induci