. . .from the burnpile
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You see him. The thing is, you can't put your finger on it, on what makes him so attractive, what makes you allow him to slide his fingers between yours, each intertwining appendage a candle flame, uncertain but with such a light to pierce the tragic darkness. He's right in front of you now, and you're looking up at him from your seat on the park bench. Even the wind seems to fossilise and stagnate, now, and the birds turn suddenly silent. He smiles and points at your chest, as if directing, giving purpose to some invisible crowd. It's just like magic; your heart's already beating faster. It goes da-dum, da-dum. You're tapping on the bench to this rhythm, now. It is a perfect rhythm, a heavy rhythm, that the world simply emulates as, once again, the leaves begin to shake. Da-dum, da-dum.
write with yr soul

new [10.11.2006]

"my heartbeat is trying to set a rythym for the leaves to fall. faster and faster till i can go outside and feel the colors cover the gravel and reflect off into my autumn sky. because autumn fills me up. how winter drains you out leaves you empty and longing, autumn always fills you up. ive got so much in me and the radiance of this feeling glows longer and brighter than you can even see. inside the carved out spooky grimaces of a family jackolantern. a family that fights and argues, you can peer into first floor brownstone apartments and watch them come together to turn this pumpkin into a masterpiece.
im moving lighter, quicker. my heart his higher up inside me, not so wieghed down. its bursting, you see, bursting with browns reds yellows and oranges. its bursting with the idea of a haunted walk. miniuature versions of you and me. with smaller hands and costumes, alongside your greatest friendships. crossing my fingers to make an X, the guides told me this will warn the monsters to keep away. pushing eachother forward or to the sides, never wanting to be on the outside of our chorus line. easy access for the walking dead. little children painted all white black around their eyes staring hard at you till you get truly spooked.
how at christmas you feel an aching for love. for someone to share a blue white world with. to hold you in this freezing paradise.
but autumn gives you all that love. you dont even need another body. autumn has its chill; a beautiful chill, but never too cold that your snug little jacket wont warm you up. the scent of the air is enough to fill your lungs up without having to hear any i love yous. because autumns greatest secret is how it stays so warm. autumns greatest secret is it's colors. and every secret is scattered on the sidewalks for little to kids to kick around. for grownups to sweep up into a big wet pile so that some little ones will just come and rip through it to delightfully see these secrets all over once again.
i cant waste a second of this secret heaven. i want to swallow it and keep it deep inside me for as long as i can. because in the back of my mind i know it'll fly right by me in the blink of an eye. but even knowing this couldnt bring me down. because i know autumns secret."
write with yr soul

It's been a while. Chapter One [06.6.2005]

Jim and Ed sat in their car. Jim sat thinking, but Ed never thought. He just liked living.
"We sit in the car, poised to strike, waiting for the correct moment to make our move." The click and whir of the tape recorder signaled that at least someone was paying attention. "It is only a matter of time before they let their guard down, and then we will strike. The silent haze that chokes the life out of all who enter into it." Barely a whisper, but still loud enough to make Ed stir. He hated when Jim dictated, because he used too many words. Words were a waste for him, after all, simply grunting was enough a greeting, question, answer, compliment, and exclamation for most people; why elaborate? Of course, this was tempered by the fact that many people did not talk to Ed. Really, many people would rather skydive into the sharktank wearing meat swim trunks and basting themselves with the sort of blood gravy that was made just the way mother used to. It wasn't that he smelled, or that he looked like someone who would eat a man as soon as shake his hand; truly he was rather gentle. Mostly it was that his eyes didn't line up in a way that made brave men reach for their guns, and cowards cross the street. "Knock her off, wouldya Jimbo? I'm trying to sleep here." He grumbled, pulling his lucky hat low and rolling up his lucky sleeves. His partner grumbled audibly and threw the device into the backseat. "Ed, do you even remember why we're here? Why we're in the car behind Vino's safehouse? Why we're holding loaded guns and a sack with a dollar sign on it?" "I tried to remember, Jimmy, I swear I did, but then I forgot what I was remembering." The taller man sighed and tousled his friend's hair, Ed smiled and closed his eyes again, presumably remembering that he was in the process of forgetting why he shouldn't be sleeping. Jim wanted to smile and let him get on his dopey way, but he was thinking too much about the business at hand. He sometimes forgot about Ed's memory problem, but he didn't understand why. Even before their little meeting with Miss Hoodoo, he wasn't exactly the Thinking type. He was much more of the Give Money to Evangelicals and Drink Paint type. The type that got turned away from McDonalds for being underqualified. It was a damn fine slice of luck that Ed had always had them around, and that they ran into that Lady when they did, otherwise, who knows?
It was best not to think about, but Jim didn't know how to stop thinking. Ed didn't know how to think.
They were quite a pair.

The story continues! In the next exciting chapter of "The Zombie Twins!"
write with yr soul

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