I Can Figure Out The Point
No really, good times. Even better people. *hearts you all*
When I was in a cultWe always drank hibiscus and mint tea out of chipped porcelain teacups, their gaily dancing Elizabethan women faded into forgotten smiles. When I was in a cult the elderly women wore their blue-vein war paint proudly and spoke in grunts and rough hand gestures. Certain words were banned for our protection: Haptodysphoria. Sesquipedalion. Absquatulate, but we didn’t need them anyway. When I was in a cult my eyes were innocent and hair plaited like my sisters’, mothers’, aunts’. My fingers were tree bark, the ants my fWhen I was in a cult
Poetswe are fickle and petty creaturesPoets
drowning in our whiskey and cigarettes our occasional dabble in mary-jane
is excusable
as long as sunlight warms our back
and we smell of pen ink and notebook spirals
my mother, 40, and unhappily married
gives me advice on dating
-i'm already having an affair-
heaven knows this boy has my sexual attention
but, it is word-smithing that has me
Satisfied
Finally reading Brisingr I see
--
I am one of three things, a scientist, a doctor or an artist...If only a job that involves all of these things could be invented...
I didn't find it as impressive as the first two. But now I'm kind of sucked in, because it's not like I can be happy not knowing how the whole thing ends. =/ *shakes fist* Darn "cycles" over "trilogies".
--
If I'm very clever- and I'm more than clever, I'm brilliant- I might just save the world. Or rip it apart.
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