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    dots Submission Name: Himdots

    Author: drowning_queen
    Elite Ratio:    5.44 - 245/270/52
    Words: 481
    Class/Type: Prose/Serious
    Total Views: 1056
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3082

       If you could erase one event from your memory, what would it be?

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    These are [arenít?] lies. I try to remind myself of that.

    No more presents under pine-scented plastic trees. No more laughing child dances under stars and moons and chilly wind gustsónaked and naÔve and the object of far too much lust. No more Tokyo surprises. Weíve eaten them all. Gluttoned ourselves on crisp clean joy-boxes. Ripped our best times into meaningless chunks of matter and forgotten memory folders.

    I am calculating, callous, manipulative, selfish, useless, arrogant, smothering, cold, barren, frenzied, impolite, sun-sharp, black-hole dark, wormhole-empty, never to be seen againÖ

    My heart is too soft. Flurried, striated. A study in repose. A blast of frigid wind tunnel power. There's no blood left to steal. It was drained before men in scrub-green with sticky latex hands ripped me from safe shores. No time to clench muscles previously undiscovered.

    I canít stay long. Time to be off to that numb, eyes-wide-shut place. Thereís no more heavy sweaty panting thrustióno more over-input. My darling, my darlóno more sound or spit or mouth-heat wrongness. No more no more no more no no no no no no.

    Itís all taken away. Washed out, faded in. Too many holes to ever caulk shut. Iíll slosh them half-full with cheap vodka. Mix it with hunched, dead theories of seven-plus-or-minus-two encoding rules. Twist the faces into unrecognizable shadows of once-men and lurking beasts. Shoot it away in ruined veins.

    Iíve cowered. Iíve laid pin-drop still and held my breath so long I thought Iíd [hoped Iíd?] lose consciousness. Iíve refused and down-casted and conceded more times than seven-to-ten year olds can count. Pushed the truth out through hazy little-girl rememberings one time and one time only. Smiled and lied and never ever never ever told anyone else. Never will.

    Thereís a golden owl that stretches dagger-peaked talons across lakes of unpleasantness to hold them at bay. Beyond their rapid, churning currents lay my safe shores. My dying harbor. Back off. Back off.

    I wish for one moment I could be cloud-white again. Be the calm in the hands of the young Argentinean house keeper wiping tomato pulp from grouted tile countertops. I wish I could be sugar-sweet and hand-spun again. Leave this shameful baggage on a never-ending airline carousel. Stride up to a man with hard eyes and stained fingers and not piss myself.

    This means nothing in the scheme of lifetime events. Nothing more than a scary, spring-loaded clown. A curled python. The full moon over broad, quaking shoulders. Iíve lost the cogs and hands of clocks that still worked. My fear straddles bridges and slides down mountainsides thick with mucus and frozen-eyed stares. Thereís a question and Iím back. Montana wide-sky revelations creeping up my spine again. Shudder-hard knock-down tears.

    Stop crying. Heís not worth it.

    Submitted on 2006-10-01 19:15:07     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||

    There's not much to say, except that this leaves me breathless. The description is lush...but what stood out the most to me was "I wish I could be sugar-sweet and hand-spun again." It conjures an image of spun sugar on a wedding cake, or a birthday cake, and then it goes back to "no more Tokyo surprises." I don't know your life well enough to interpret this as far as personal experience goes, but from my viewpoint, this is just beautifully portrayed loss. Favorite.

    | Posted on 2006-10-05 00:00:00 | by Melora | [ Reply to This ]
      I think this is just right K-- a steaming shaker of prosetry spilt from your consciousness to ours, the reader. So many themes woven in, yet they seem to be held together tightly, however disparate it seemed at the start.

    Perhaps it might be too divergent for some, but I think that's where the inherent charm of this lies.

    One tiny nitpick:
    "There was no blood left to steal."
    --I think this would work better if you changed it to present tense ie:
    "There('s) no blood left to steal."
    --Your previous lines were all present tense... I know the sentence after this is past tense, but this would make it transition better overall, and I think it works and sounds better this way. But, your call of course.

    This is an oft-repeated theme, one that I think I'm probably guilty of, but you make this your own, through your idiosyncratic detail and attention to the sounds of words. Purity, the lack of, the striving to find that pure alpha-state of childhood innocence-- we always think of that as the ideal Utopian paradise, but we can never grasp it once we've been tainted... by everything thrown at us, which makes us who we are today. But I prattle, injecting my own opinions into this.

    Imagine if we were all adult children. Some people manage to retain this mind-state, but they're a rare breed and often misled by people with no sense of honesty. But again, I prattle.

    Wonderful stuff.

    | Posted on 2006-10-02 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
      "I am calculating, callous, manipulative, selfish, useless, arrogant, smothering, cold, barren, frenzied, impolite, sun-sharp, black-hole dark, wormhole-empty, never to be seen againÖ "

    PERFECT! love the rant, powerfully used.

    "Thereís a golden owl that stretches dagger-peaked talons across lakes of unpleasantness to hold them at bay. Beyond their rapid, churning currents lay my safe shores. My dying harbor"

    Your imagery trhough out is really well placed and vivid. this particular line hits me the hardest. The following parts about Unicorns is still effective, but I almost feel you could stop it on my dying harbor. Its such a desolate image...but that is just me.

    the tone of this piece is consistant and biting throughout.

    most enjoyable
    | Posted on 2006-10-01 00:00:00 | by googie | [ Reply to This ]
      thats damn right, he is not worth your tears.
    in answer to your qeestion, i think that it would be my cousin, and what he did to me. its taken me... almost 10 years to forget and re-remember and try to forget, and eventually work through it.
    it sounds like you might be going through a bit of a tough time, and if your not, well youve written one well. i was somewhat the same.
    only the doctors i saw werent the ones in scrubs, but the analyzing [censored]s who sit there pretending to listen, nd then recount what you said completely differently, trying to confuse you, and make you think that youre someone else.
    it was a good write, perhaps a little confusing, but that sort of reveals the lost, searching that i think you are feeling.
    PM me if you want to talk.
    | Posted on 2006-10-01 00:00:00 | by eowyn | [ Reply to This ]
      You know, I love those coined conjunctions. To me, they are these beautifully desperate acts that desire to stretch the boundaries of the language for the sake of expression. The element of "want" in it is sometimes so heart-shaking that they seem to stand out in most pieces.

    For some cases, too much of them can be a bit tacky. But in this case, I think it worked because the piece itself possesses that wild desire for expression that can be complimented by these... embelishments.

    I also liked the power of the lines at the beginning and the end of the piece. To me, they represented an inhaling and an exhaling that gives a circling (or evolving motion.)

    This piece is like a total freefall... it's like surrendering yourself to your emotion and finding some sense of enlightenment from it.

    | Posted on 2006-10-02 00:00:00 | by ANGELO | [ Reply to This ]

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