FeelsLikeIcarus's Blog

Paper Walls

June 1, 2009
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she built a newspaper city on her wall
 to create a new world for herself.
where everyday
the clouds and sun and wind
smelled like hopes and dreams
coming back to her
after floating aimlessly down
an empty street
when the rain fell
it only helped to nourish
the creativity in her head
and to help the paint brushes move along.
she would borrow ink from the midnight sky
and use the stars to light her paper
in newspaper city
tin cans connected by stretched string
were ways to say I love you
and she’d never have to pay the bills
because life is simple
and smelling of apples
time passed and she grew older
and the white clouds turned to grey
and the sun didn’t always shine
the empty streets were just that, empty
and soon enough the string broke between the tin cans
and mailmans only stopped by to deliver bills.
she sat outside her newspaper city
as it crumbled down around her
and the tears slipped down her cheeks
smearing the ink and ruining the tape
that held her world together
years later packed away in a box
were lost things of tape and newspaper
she cleared everything off of a wall
called in sick to work
and became a kid once more

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green beans and cello strings

May 26, 2009
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with Zoë Keating blasting in her ears
if you have the right to blast classical music
for she had the right to do this
(and more)
she steps out of her car
and approaches the neon sign
her feet timidly carrying her closer
to the cause of anxiety.
this must be conquered.
Zoë plays faster and faster,
the music swelling up in her ears
her haunting cello setting the mood

with her head held high,
she walks in, and grabs a basket
noting how beautiful it looks empty
the glare of the lights on the tile
and the brightness of the vegetables
almost blind her
with fear
peoples wandering eyes
(only on groceries)
must certainly be focused on her.

she becomes lost in the strings
lost in another world
and reaches out for a handful
of green beans
how much is too much?
she wonders, mumbling aloud.
quickly tying up the bag
she throws it in the basket
before she changes her mind
and with her body trembling
walks towards the checkout

she sits in her car a moment
looking back at the neon sign
stunned as the song finishes.
whether she liked to admit it or not,
progress had been made.


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May 6, 2009
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the man in the moon
looks down at the ships
being rocked to sleep
 on the edge of the world
he lets out a sigh
wishing he could close his eyes
and rest, if only for a second
in the oceans arms.


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About author

i drink tea and live off apples. i write and create art to figure out who i am. clouds, sunshine, and cities inspire me.

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