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The Science of FallingThere are a few things you notice when you become an overnight success. And I mean mega success here. I'm talking late night talk shows. I'm talking cameras in your face, always, open your eyes in the morning and there you're already reflected in a lens.
You notice, number one, that you have a terrible wardrobe and nothing looks good on you. These clothes you've been wearing your whole life, feeling confident in, picking women up in, going to funerals, accepting community college awards in, they now look cheap and seem to hang off your limbs. You see yourself on TV with these bum clothes, and the second thing you'll notice is your terrible posture. And, hell, this far in life, there's no helping it.
So, you buy new clothes, because, hey, you can afford it; you just discovered gravity.
No, come on, not like Newton did, and come on with that, too, having an apple fall on your head and realizing this must be the reason our feet seem to stick to the ground.
I walk by a newsstand, and there
Ink Covered CameraShe wanted to be a model. He wanted to be a writer. Together, they burned with stories of the future.
Her body was perfect. His mind was broken. Both knew they had what was needed.
He made love with passion, making up for what he lacked physically. She made love with restraint, knowing only how to keep her body in check. Neither knew if they should complain.
They were both smart enough to know it wouldn't last. He saw the way everyone else looked at her. She saw the way he watched her speak. Into their home spilled photographers and editors, the two groups clamoring for attention and ideas as she posed and he explained.
When it got hard, he wrote about her.
When she lacked inspiration, she thought of him.
His pen tried to draw her beauty with words, but ran dry from effort. Her eyes tried to turn the photographer into him, but her smile failed to pull as wide.
Both were in love enough to hope it would never end.
He started drinking, lost his mind, became a mechanic.
She got desperate,
ConstructionI'm in traffic.
Before I start, know this has no end. This story. It's just a chunk of my life, split free without clean edges. Where exactly it ends, I haven't figured out yet. It'll conclude, this chunk, at the end of some paragraph, but really it won't all be over until I'm dead and underground, grass growing like chest hair from my buried body.
It starts somewhere, some day when I started working sites as a prologue man, the first guy on the scene. It was called a promotion, and I thought it was at first. I was the one who got to tear the house to pieces with a sledgehammer. I was the one who would knock down walls to be rebuilt, trash windows and door frames, smash and bash and hammer.
It was the ultimate stress relief.
Within the first month of my promotion, the new me had a tattoo across the shoulders saying, "To reconstruct, you must first destroy."
It was about as deep as I could get at the time.
Here, now, the roar of a motorcycle cop comes from behind my car. Traffic isn't m
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More