We aren't that angry anymore.
We haven't got a leg to stand on,
or a war to fight.
There's no more background; no foreground in sight.
in the trees
(more) Pale yellow
We've grown too tired,
and we can't stand up on our own
The world is always growing
and yet we are still not alone.
in the trees
...and the sun shining on the lake
...isn't too bad but its more than I can take.
on the water
pale yellow eyes staring back at pale yellow eyes staring back at pale yellow eyes its so sad seeing dogs locked up in cages at the pet store all the potential owners in the world looking at them and imagining the lives they might live together. what a terrible(more) fucking place.
the sound of huge bags of dog food being thrown onto each other; crunches and tiny, enveloped cascades of brown bits and kibbles and stupid bone shaped pieces of dried crayon looking shit, its a nice sound, really. very sturdy.
the weird girl at school leaves her notebook in spanish and im going to see her in math class, i figured id be the hero, the good guy, the unsung savior of the world and bring her her forgotten shit but when the time comes she snatches her papers and spiral bound notebooks out of my hands so quickly the little metal wires burn against the inside of my thumb. what the hell. her faces flush and folded into itself, theres a primordial rage in there i somehow awoke. fuck me. my middle school self vows to never help a stranger again, he doesnt realize what that habit becomes later on.
my eyes burn from staring at the blaring screen for so long; its the middle of the night but i need to check and see if she wrote me anything. the butterflies are always there, sometimes fanning each other with their impossibly thin wings, its just a matter of waking them. so eagerly they wait for the alarm. a single chord. struck so easily. a pisspoor system, wholly unfit for sustaining happiness, quite honestly. but the butterflies live on. and i guess thats worth something.
a pale yellow moon because youre a goddess in hiding. and im scared. (less)
The sky was a pale yellow and a deep purple, both the moon and the sun visible on the horizons. The trees were flooded on one side with buttery glow, the other with an inky glimmer, no shadows in sight, light everywhere, light everywhere.
Ice crystals dangled from the(more) branches, glinting purples and blues and yellows and pinks across the bare skeletons of the trees, flashing, glittering, gleaming, blinding- tossing flecks of color down, too, on the three bodies that lay frozen at the base of the trees, lying on their backs, arms straight out at their sides, palms upwards, fists clenched. The first body, with her mouth cut wide open, the second, with two extra pairs of ears stuck to his head, and the third, clutching two eyes in his other hand, all with their hearts removed and buried in the mud not ten feet away.
The ground, frozen over with pink ice, sealed the three to the ground, trapping them against the cold dirt. In each of their hands, they held a piece of paper. Later, when the police found the bodies, the letters would make national headlines, along with the gruesome images of the three dead.
'Speak, Hear, See Evil,' they read.(less)
pale yellow teeth flashing in a perfect crescent every time you turn away and try to do anything of note because despite all the food and books and fancy wifi-capable gadgets you've been provided, you are, in fact, not supposed to grow your own ideas or change the world(more) or do anything aside from exist and obey orders.
and the moment you do, those pale yellow teeth will snap your head clean off your neck. "another crazy revolutionary subdued," they chatter, wiping the blood off their perfectly moisturized and painted lips. "long live the mainstream. long live the status quo."(less)