(Untitled)

[ofbirdsandwires]

big and blustery:
my bedroom window is open to the hail storm because it looks like snow and hits like stones, and I'd rather welcome the storm inside than sit around under my own heavy rain clouds all day.

I just keep looking up translations of 'My Story' until I realise that I only want the ones that say "The world is ice. That's my story"

Comments

[oceanfloors]

Something big is your imagination and my stomaching it all.

[oceanfloors]

The world is my ice. That's my story. Oh that kills me!

[oceanfloors]

And it hailed at school the other day, the size of golf balls! At three in the morning! On a tin roof! The echos, those were big and killing too.

[ofbirdsandwires]

where have you BEEN young lady?

[heynameless]

I guess I'll tell you something big, but not anonymously because I don't believe in such a thing. I kind of believe in the world of ideas; it's kind of beautiful to think that we are nothing but typewriters, delivering smells and sounds and sweetening air through letters and spaces, you know?

Here it is, something that haunts me everyday:

I have never been good with words.

And honest to god, that's sincere.

[oceanfloors]

How can you say that, having just written what you just did? We are nothing but typewriters. Oh! Oh! Oh!

[ofbirdsandwires]

I think that fact that you can't see how deftly and beautifully you deal with words is both intensely sad and completely amazing.

[ofbirdsandwires]

hahaha, it's okay

"Your hands have
fingers and fingers are
muscles and muscles they
pull and pulling they
told you how someone
once told me we'd
always be pulling"

[anonymous]

elephant.

[ofbirdsandwires]

Thank you.

Bigger?

[heynameless]

Tsunami.

[ofbirdsandwires]

Biggest?

[anonymous]

rain

curtains

this world, this life,

this heart