you're so easy to write.
you're tiny and fit between words easily
i'll stick you in the story between the bully and his redemption
or maybe with the lot of the villain's prisoners
or just in the middle of a busy highway.
i'll drag you across the pages
until you're ragged and raw
i'll build your storyline up
then i'll knock you back down.
you make it so easy
with your shallow character and predictable impulses
i'll write you in an hour
paste you inside in less
and then when i feel like it
(if i feel like it)
i'll delete you
in no time at all.
EXT. WASTELAND – LATE AFTERNOON
Isle sits on Herbert’s shoulder as he walks. The two enter a forest of dead and dying trees. By the routine movements of Herbert, it’s clear that...
Who are you and what do you do?
i'm Chantal, and i'm eternally behind on the times. i do the writing mostly on HR, and the going-to-business-school mostly when i'm not on HR, but...
"They're on to us!" said the Secret. "Hide me, quick!"
HONK HONK HOOOOOOOOONK.
What a strange girl, the passerby thought. Are those horns on her feet? No wait, the horns are her feet! And a, a trumpet neck? Why, the poor girl's...
i want to hold your hand
but i've painted myself invisible
and i don't want it to rub off on you.
*a poem about you that I wrote for me
it's okay that you won't read it
On dull nights
I dig up the ancient
glimpses of you
hiding behind my bookcases and
I trace your laugh...