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About this blog

Welcome, this is the blog where I talk about writing, reading, books, things that bother me, fire, and/or anything/everything else.

Entries in this blog

 

The Little Butterfly Girl and her Little Butterfly Girl Adventure

"Now little butterfly girl," called the big butterfly lady. "Don't go so near the edge."   The little butterfly girl was peering over the edge of the most peculiar hole she had ever seen.   "You don't want to fall in now do you?"   "No big butterfly lady," the little butterfly girl called back. "It's just this hole is the most peculiar hole I have ever seen."   "What have I told you about calling me that," scoffed the big butterfly lady. "I am not the the big butterfly lady; I am indeed
 

Hate the Daisies

The cold hates daisies, Why shouldn't it? After all, It is the daisies fault.   It's the daisies' fault the ground runs white, The mud turns dry, The rivers don't flow, The birds can't sing, The daisies do it. Why shouldn't they be hated?   It's the daisies who hide the sun, They whip the wind till it howls so cold, They bite the cheeks and noses, They sing their soft tunes that make the animals sleep, They horde the things we need. Why shouldn't they be hated?   It's the dai

The Girl with the Books

The Girl with the Books

 

Laughter

Oh dear oh dear, you are much too silly for I! Pff-heh-ha!   Please don't come near me anymore, you are much too silly for I! Heh, ha-heh hoo!   Your smile so wide, your eyes so big, you are much too silly for I! Hahaha heh-hoh!   Your nose so pointy, your fingers so short, you are much too silly for I! Heh-ho-he-hahaha!   Your teeth so sharp, your nails so long, you are much too silly for I! Hahahaha heh-heh hoo!   Your tongue so forked, your eyes full of longing, you are much to

The Girl with the Books

The Girl with the Books

 

Of Metal and Steel

Cold, unloving, unfeeling, unexpressive. Cold, unloving, unfeeling, unexpressive. Cold, unloving, unfeeling, unexpressive.   No emotion, no care, no sympathy. No emotion, no care, no sympathy. No emotion, no care, no sympathy.   Stop.   This is what I fear, what I face, and what I fear, is my face.   Cold, unloving, unfeeling, unexpressive. Cold, unloving, unfeeling, unexpressive. Cold, unloving, unfeeling, unexpressive.   No emotion, no care, no sympathy. No emotion, no care, n

The Girl with the Books

The Girl with the Books

 

True Warmth

I slip into to its warm embrace. I chuckle, a bit of my soul leaping from my lips as I do. Warm embrace. I mutter to myself, shaking my head.   The night closes in and the wind whispers across the water. My hair falls behind me and dances. My cold heart not even chilled by the cruel fangs of the air as it bites at me, trying to gnaw away at my shirt.   My mug has long lost it's breathe, too weak to stay awake in this weather.   I plead that smooth feeling to roll over me, to make this

The Girl with the Books

The Girl with the Books

 

Living

I love books. Maybe a bit too much.   This morning I skipped breakfast to read a chapter in "Ask the Passengers" by A.S. King. Last night, I stayed up past midnight reading "Jellyfish Dreams" waiting for the election results that I didn't even see because it didn't matter then, I was too far into the life of Sam the Biologist who lost his fiancee. Inn the past week I've skipped math, chemistry, world history, and comp homework to work on a story and to read "A Brave New World."   I have sp

The Girl with the Books

The Girl with the Books

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