Like WildfireThe light from the backyard neighborLike Wildfire by Synesthi
is on, a fish tank light with no soft water.
It draws a hard line up the side of your face
and you wince like it’s painful. Being seen
is painful, eyes on your mouth when you talk,
shoulders when you walk…
You sit up in the bed, pulling your knees to your
chest and squeezing, your fingers making dents
in the side of your calves. It is
starting to feel like they were always there.
It’s May and warm and you’re not wearing pants but
you want to be but
the light is watching
and so you sit and feel naked (unseemly, inappropriate) in your
shirt and your underwear and your bruises.
Panic is clawing up your throat, green-gray,
the color of four-in-the-morning palpitations and
you lie back down and grab the sheets and wish
that November was something else,
that lying on the grass looking up at the stars meant
something else, that being told you’re pretty
didn’t mean bruises, didn’t mean scratches.
You want to sleep.
Conversations before DaybreakThey say Death isConversations before Daybreak by Synesthi
an old man with a long black coat and
a curved, cold scythe and arthritis that rumbles
like alcoholic snoring before dawn.
like a ruby-throated nightmare with blood
teeth and eyes carved out against the black,
unvarnished furniture of space.
like a child creeping out of bed in the dark when
the floor is cold and sticky, the warm smell of urine on
fresh-cleaned bed sheets and oh god oh god panic thrust
against adults who wake up with voices like an asthmatic sunset.
I lie awake next to him at night and listen and
imagine what it would be like to hear
his breath catch just so
rehearse a frantic phone call, gun-fire pleadings and
the no, no, no denial that will be gobbled up,
flushed down by an uncaring silence that will not yield as
I throw myself against the walls.
I’m what I have always been, but I guess for now
A tear streaks across my face like a shooting star
and the night sky asks me
what are you thinking abo
Maybe I'm keeping a diaryMaybe I’m keeping a diaryMaybe I'm keeping a diary by Synesthi
11 W [(20x10) + (3x5)]
Wednesday is yellow (so is eleven) (but February is blue and purple)
I have learned that the snow tastes different in each place on campus
and people look at me as though I am broken
the snow melts and drips and my hands are cold, snowflakes die
in haphazard tragedy my thoughts leak out my eyes and when
I cry at night my legs get caught in yours as I try to run from your breathing
but some days I’m tired enough to realize that your existence is a lullaby
12 Thursday 2015 February
It’s Advising Day but no one advises me on anything
my backpack weighs too much and I sit in empty classrooms and
play games with a mechanical pencil (out of lead) (empty) (empty)
I win the game by not going home, and I lose when people look at me
I wish I had words but oh look, I’m not here anymore
the plant in the bathroom curls and turns brown when I hold it
Someone has misinformed you as to the purposes
IcebergThey say I’m careless.Iceberg by Synesthi
I leave one of my boots unlaced
when I get dressed this morning.
The laces get coated in
thaw and freeze, stiff-spine
I can feel it catch on
the uneven ground, on
the chunks of ice,
on the way you stare
to tell me that
you hate me.
I want you to see
it, the way I drag through
I am here I am
here I am here i
am here iamhere
I can smell your thoughts
from here, spoilt milk
and apple cores and
rotten water in corpse-ridden
vases. I want to tell you
look at what you’re doing to yourself
but you wouldn’t care
if I made you.
There’s a Dining Commons
gone battlefield and
you think you can use
stares like pins
and I will be an insect
up on the wall.
You’ve rotted, silly. You hated
until worms. All you are
I can feel you break against
What have you done?
I want to find a palm-reader
and ask if it’s my fault.
I want to know if I am allowed
to laugh as it goes down.
|I've been thinking about my wings lately...|
canopy and cagethe sand paints a cleft into my backcanopy and cage by Aquarius-Claire
and the sky can tell i am not listening.
i could be anywhere else.
i could be underwater.
the amber horizon loosens itself,
the daylight is approaching,
i am no nearer to where i needed to be
than i was when the night came,
i am no nearer to where i needed to be
but there is something stirring in the cavity
of my chest, a cancer perhaps
or maybe just a call to arms.
the madness is coming.
small cells bewilder at its approach.
the blood beats itself into my fingers.
the body hums and runs.
i am not new to it.
the madness, not the body.
i am very new to the body.
i have swallowed the chaos before but i will
not swallow it now. there is too much
to be learned from the shifting faces
beneath my eyelids,
and i cling to notebooks and
old plunderings hoping
to draw breath where there is no breath
left to be drawn. the past is grotesque
and it is absolute,
it is not absolute nor is it grotesque,
i hate the things that i have seen
and do not ha
Depression (in Eight Parts)I.Depression (in Eight Parts) by SpiritFingers
I took a walk once, and
Depression walked alongside me.
"I want to be alone," I told him.
"I know," he replied,
"Why do you think I'm here?"
"I have a plan,"
Depression said to me.
"Not today," I said.
He frowned and asked,
"How did you know my plan?"
I gave the weekend over to Depression
but he took three days
instead of two.
"Think of it as an investment," he said.
"And maybe I'll let you have a Friday night
Fallen to the floor
I look up and see
he's smiling at me.
"You know what they say
about old dogs."
He's doing this on purpose,
I know he is-
and it's working.
"They can't learn new tricks?"
I asked, playing my part.
"No," he replied,
I walked away,
my Trials and Tribulations
defeated behind me.
but even he took a moment
and whistled low.
"I don't think much of you, but
those were some big guys."
I answered honestly:
"What were they,
compared to you?"
I looked Depression in the eye
staring without pardon or
Ninety-Nine Questions of Meme on the Wall ...Dude, why do these things go so viral all at once?Ninety-Nine Questions of Meme on the Wall ... by hopeburnsblue
Tagged by WinteroftheSoul.
Rules (and comments from the peanut gallery):
You have to say who tagged you!
You must be truthful. No cheating!
What're you gonna do, sit me in front of a lie-detector?
You must answer *all* questions!
You just lost The Game.
I wasn't aware we were playing one
If you don't tag anyone at the end, I will EAT you!
The Basics ...
1. Full name: Melissa Raye Finefrock ... I mean, why the heck not? You've seen bits of it at a time, so there it is all at once.
2. Age: Twenty-three years
3. Birth Date: 8-25-1990
4. Birth Place: Anaheim, CA
5. Gender: Female
6. Occupation: Freelance lit fic editor, poetess, singer/songwriter, volunteer in varying capacities
7. Primary School: Dooley Elementary, Plano, TX ... also, why on Earth didn't the
120 Seconds - Results!!Winners120 Seconds - Results!! by BurdenedHearts
and the results are finally in! Thanks to everyone who entered this competition was hard work to run and judge but totally worth it to hear people talking passionately about things they care about! The winners are...
In the GLOBAL category...
In the PERSONAL category...
|I am a Synesthete (the term for someone who has synesthesia) and enjoy writing (prose and poetry), long-distance running, and playing music. My username is another (less formal) term for someone with synesthesia.|