[x]

Escape VelocityF = G(m1m2)/r2

Black – true black – is the absence of light. Darkness is defined by what it is not, by the lack of something else. When we say a black hole, we truly mean that; black. Blacker than black. An absence of not only light, but of time, distance, anything.

The night was scary when I was little. I hated the dark, but couldn’t bear to sleep so long as the light was on, any light, burning on the other side of my eyelids. I used to have nightmares about dark things in dark corners, shadowy figures with shadowy fingers trailing along my spine. I always woke up cold and fumbling frantically for the lamp, but the aura o

terminali.

we landed in oklahoma
and drank cheap martinis in the terminal;
you carried my guitar and fell in love
with my voice but not my tongue,
not my hands.

ii.

there's a man with a garage
that looks like a plane because nothing
meant more to him. will you make a model
of that bar? will you make a model
of my red cheeks? or will you live in a townhome
with her and three children?

iii.

the problem was you're not gay.
the problem was there was feeling
but it wasn't for us. i had you but
it wasn't for us.

iv.

i'm not sure if i resent you,
but i remember that bar and every pockmark
on the stool you sat on while i played
the song that parted yo

The Solipsist's LotThere's something about yourself that you don't know. You probably don't remember the circumstances very well, but I do. If you enjoy things the way they are, if you revel in even the smallest speck of ignorance, you need not read ahead. I won't force you. But from what I know of you, you don't like secrets. Especially not when they are about you.

You see, when you were born, so at once was everyone else. Your mother, she sprang into existence, just like that, the instant your tiny infant brain achieved the smallest semblance of self-awareness. Woven out of the ethe

still,"i want grandchildren."

that car ride ruined some things
threw a wine bottle at the wall
15 years sitting
it was good enough or
it wasn't good enough

all the silence forced
my pride to jump out the window
if any rested in her
she showed it off like a speech bubble
tied it to her teeth
slammed it in the door
had it under her pillow for months
and years and years and years

there was no statement
there was no outstretched hand
just steering wheel clenching
knuckles white and jaw taut

(all because who i bed was not her mindful of
timeline perfection)

i still think i'm a tumor

--

she shows it off like a speeding ticket
i

The Cat on the PorchYou asked me why I do not believe in ghosts,
celestial at four in the morning.
It becomes the common hour,
not a biting static shock in the eye veins like I anticipated
but dangerously vogue and precious
like a real diamond ring or sapphires on your breast.
No wood pecking or oil teasing or misshapen duck bills bleating
just clay, but lighter, lightest
and bright
seductive and crestfallen.

They bled Peter and Pangloss over a river.
I was wearing white for the funeral
humming 'home', the matronly letters
soothe me
clotheshorses and moonlight,
Mayan jewellery in my cabinet
the mother tongue kissing my molars better

But then there

Moving: A YaduWe keep a home
Of unknown hums
And lonely cats.
The sky cracks but
He lacks a raincoat.

Fueled by smoke and
Words he lands on
A branded street,
Knows the sweet rage
Of meeting too soon and late.

This town belongs
To a song man
And wrongful ghost.
He is most sure
The coast will fade their remnants.

cliffcliff
e.bojnowski

on velvet roads,
I impale a belated dawn
with my incisors and
shiver with perfect leaves-

I have no qualms
with the dark hills
that slope
and stagger into
a bed of scorched fly husks:

where
the thrum of the ground
melds
with the rapids in
my clairvoyant ears.

Davaothe equatorial sun
soft-etched on my skin,
there, del sur

islands away

the tan lines of shallow-bathing
in your eyes

there is so much time between

you
and
I

you spoil me, featherbreath
do i dare commit my memory
into dreams?

i laugh upon waking,
i did not realize--
i run when i go to you

despondenti.

"are you sleepy today?"
"yes."
"but you were sleepy yesterday."
"i know."

ii.

she stirs her pomegranate green-tea until it turns from clear to purple
setting it on her bedside table and climbing back into bed again.
her fingers follow the bluer-than-usual constellation veins on her wrists and down
to the freckle on her forearm and then the scar on the inside of her elbow
crossing the tendon as if it were crux.
and then she remembered that God hasn't been with her lately.

iii.

today is long and sunny but when she steps outside the humidity creaks her bones
and her skin starts to inflame.
she assumes that if getting the mail

SaturdayWe slept on the floor when you drank.

– Like worried puppies
too small to reach the bed,
and sat with our backs to the wall
by the bathroom while you showered,
we hid car keys,
and telephones.

Peering over ledges,
I watched your listless eyes
wander to windows
thinking of your mother and marriage,
toes curled around the coffee table corner,
and we begged you to sleep.

Zach cleaned the sinks,
the rugs and the ashtrays,
capped the bottles and placed them
high on the shelves.
You woke to cartoons,
a headache, a fresh
pack of cigarettes. –

We never talked on Sunday mornings.

sea featherin the breaking of the morning we tore apart our ivory shells
our blood-red hearts are saturated in spume & sea spells
with the ache from the brine gathering around you
your ankles slippery, your mouth
moving liquid through
mine
i had never seen a more beautiful shoreline

gunmetal breaths
on shivering, silver shores

you were ebbing to my flowing
you were coming; i was going

i wrote in the sand that i was yours

on the coast i could feel
salt on my tongue - dew from the
ocean in my lungs
& i was your pearl
latched from the inside to keep everyone out
speaking in rhymes, & cotton tides

this is when you pull my body fro

6.12There are days when I recall the litany of your kisses over my shoulders and I wonder, numbly disconsolate, how I ever maintained my disbelief in god, when your movements over me were so profoundly biblical, when my name filtering between the fog of our joined breaths was so much like a prayer - when I would think, for those minutes or hours or days we spent locked in the grip of fever, unaware of the movement of those heavenly bodies outside the reach of our bed, that there was hope for me after all. That I could be saved.

I remember so clearly the feeling of loving you and I wonder at what point, when it was, the exact moment, when that lo

magnolia nights and ivory starsi.
i threw the stars out into the cosmos & used my fish hooks to hang the moon too; hide the sun from wanting eyes beneath the zaffre mountains (look how they sleep) painting the night (wisteria) with such grace.

ii.
for who could know the wonder growing a pair of antlers can bring for a small child. time to decorate [find what you can]: shattered compasses, gears [never do they turn], maybe glitter. look how pretty she is with her elegant horns- all isabelline white & with its specks of fallow & teeth splashed with honeydew [no makeup] & a compass too many to show her the many ways to make mistakes.

iii.
has anyone ever wondered how a but

SuperimposeHe doesn't look like a gymnast. He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair framing wire spectacles, a picture perfect professorial archetype down to the very tips of his frayed shoelaces. But he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles like he knows something while he's chatting before class.

It's strange to see that image superimposed over the current one – the distinguished professor in pressed khaki slacks and a jacket, worn brown loafers exuding a faintly courteous manner (you can always tell them by their shoes), and a ring on the fourth finger of his left hand – versus the athletic ki

Liquid Cityhere, at the bottom - lovers.
there are lovers disassembling
themselveslost in and to the
desperate motion in
of - waves.

- did you think the continents
moved themselves? see them slip,

in an open sleep. less go, come.
come and, and - again. trembling

here, at the bottom - their eyes
are lightless. hollow bodies left
restless,

the sea does not sleep.

Browse More Like This

more ▶

More from ~somethingsophie

quipped to perhaps listenersi.
i thought i was nothing
before i thought i was special
[ said the phantom to curiosity ]
now i know, self-righteously
that everyone is nothing

ii.
the scars are from knives
not a razor blade
a pointless venture
[ and sipped his tea ]
it didn’t hurt like living
and the carpet was already stained

iii.
i’m too competitive to die
if you really must know
and i am not quite sure
that hell has an elevator

iv.
for posterity,
we could probably incite a riot
but that would be an awful lot of trouble
for just a little bit of scream

v.
in being unpretty
you conclude that you
are not exceptional/beautiful

vi.
and you realize
neither

stairwell talkjason is a byproduct
of urban fray
and weathered charcoal dust
perched on steps
with scarred knuckles and cut lips
eyes smudged permanent black
plying operatic philosophies

"you know
that thing john lennon said
about telling his teacher
he wanted to grow up happy"

"yeah?"

"he lied
mostly because
everyone
wants
the world not to
tilt on its axis
and for nights
to stay faded indigo
and mostly
to be the kind of pretty
that makes people not care
if you're worth something
less than nothing"

"do you want to be happy?"

his eyes are very blue
and his lips start bleeding
so he parses words like
they each cost a dime

they get married without a wedding cake-can you hold it against—
a sycophantic apparition in the daylight
you've got patent leather heels toeing through the ash
he's a blight in the night with sky stained black
ink and glass slashed in the middle of a map
in the pouring rain

waiting for the call
where there's blood there is love in a
casket or a house that was a museum before
and a store or a bed and breakfast
in the guise of a business arrangement
instead of splendid cavalier

he's your romeo and you're his new perspective
wrapped in contract wax and gauzy continuity

he
　　　　says
　　　　　　　

matchbox tuesdayi.
they meet at the wall between the two lane street and alice court park. the clouds waver in bipolar indecision while leans against ruddy brick. he plucks at a thread on his fraying sweatshirt and slouches down waiting. eight o'clock is on time. they're late.

paris laveen scuffs up on her skateboard at eight-oh-seven. pops it up with her toe like he's sure is a habit and smiles with pretty lips and gapped teeth and blue and yellow braces. she will be lovely when she is older, with a retroussé nose and hair that falls in her eyes like sun-bleached wheat.

today she's a patchwork beauty queen. "where's matty?" his eyes find her ten

she`s a musicianlike a piano dropped from a fourth story window,
[ you were in the wrong place
at the wrong time ]
and struck a chord

you write songs in the back of your mind
or something of that ilk
because triads well from the tips of your fingers
and i thought i was the dreamer—
until you stop for pint-sized things,
good coffee or blue ink pens
and to trace the scar
on the palm of my hand
and say i'm kind of
[ hugo riemann would have been proud ]
happiness in b flat major

we are not a symphony
at any rate
but the notes are there.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#CRLiterature
CR hub for Literature Community!

#All-Art-Wanted
Every ART accepted

#paper-forests

Details

Submitted: January 20
File Size: 13.1 KB

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 246
Favourites: 402 [who?]
Views: 5,576 (0 today)
Downloads: 105 (0 today)

[x]

Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)

suggestive adage

by ~somethingsophie, Jan 20, 2013, 2:03:30 AM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Humor / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

i.
"when did you lose your virginity?"

"this is kind of sudden."

"it's simply a question."

"an abrupt one."

"why don't you answer it?"

"you've never been interested in my past sex life before."

"it's certainly more interesting than your current one."

"and whose fault is that?'

"it was during your rebellious teenage phase, wasn't it?"

"what—no. i didn't have a…oh, why do i bother."

"care to enlighten me?"

"not really."

1
him: this is a twin-sized bed.
her: yes.
him: and you want us to both sleep in it?
her: i could sleep on top of you.
him: that…doesn't sound very comfortable.
her: for you, maybe.
him: uh…
her: or you could sleep on the couch, and we could just use it for sex.
him: are you serious?
her: yeah. we could call it the fucking bed.

a)
why do people have sex if it's not for babies?

oh my god.

what?

who told you that?

no one. why do people have sex if it's-

stop, stop. i heard you the first time.

well?

you're not supposed to ask questions like that.

why?

because it's…you're seven.

almost eight.

who told you?

answer the question, or i'll tell my sister it was you.

"you're a little-"

"bitch?"

"fu—flipping hell..o. flipping hello, you're not supposed to know any of this."

"i could always google it."

"please don't."

ii.
"it was in a church."

"whatever for?"

"you're going to laugh."

"only if i find it amusing."

"fine. i…there was this boy. his name was daniel."

"i'm going to call him pietro."

"just like you call michael 'todd'?"

"just like that. keep going."

"his parents wanted him to be a priest. he wanted to get a degree in european studies and be a historian."

"what a noble calling."

"he wanted to show them…i don't know, really. that he was a rebel, i guess."

"did he coerce you?"

"i suggested it."

2
him: we're engaged.
her: and?
him: i'm not sleeping on the couch.
her: then what do you want to do?
him: get a new bed, maybe?
her: then go buy one.
him: it's your apartment.
her: our apartment.
him: just get a bed that can fit both of us.
her: i hate shopping.
him: and i hate the idea of sleeping on your couch.
her: any bed?
him: any bed.
her: you'll hate it.
him: i doubt it. magenta sheets, maybe, but it's impossible to hate a bed.

b)
'where babies come from' doesn't say anything about sex without babies.

can you stop calling it that?

'where babies come from?' it's just a book though.

no. sex without babies.

what should i call it, then?

don't call it anything at all.

baby-less sex?

making love.

that's what people call it? making love?

yes. are we done?

so there's no love when you're making babies?

what?

when you're making babies you make babies. what do you make when you're making love?

no, no. there's always love. it's just…no babies.

what if you have sex without babies and without love?

that's called sexual assault.

iii.
"was it any good?"

"it lasted about five minutes. we were against the lectern under a statue of jesus christ. what do you think?"

"did you love pietro?"

"daniel and i were dating, so i guess so. it felt rather anticlimactic and cheap."

"it usually is."

"we broke up when i went to college here and he stayed in iowa."

"how unfortunate."

"not really. i think it was better, to leave that behind."

"thank you for telling me."

"you're rather strange sometimes."

"if i was normal, this is where i would say that i love you."

"i love you too."

3
him: what is that?
her: it's our bed.
him: it…i don't…it looks like a giant egg chair.
her: a giant orange egg chair.
him: where did you even find this?
her: don't you love it?
him: i…
her: it's king sized.
him: i thought you would go for something, you know. a little less…
her: orange?
him: ridiculous.
her: don't you love it?
him: it. i will. learn to?

c)
how can you tell?

tell what?

if it's making babies, making love, or making assault?

you don't make an assault, paris. it just is assault.

how can you tell?

can we talk about this when i'm not working?

you're cleaning your desk.

and it's a laborious thing, cleaning my desk.

you can talk and clean at the same time.

no, i really can't.

can you talk and sex at the same time?

if i answer the first question, will you stop asking more?

probably.

if you make babies, there's a baby. if you make love there's no baby.

what if you ma-if you're assaulted?

you kick them between the legs and run away.

iv.
"how did you lose your virginity?"

"and you always said i was the curious one."

"a question for a question."

"fair enough."

"well?"

"i don't remember."

"…"

"i don't."

"how do you not remember?"

"you thinking i'm lying."

"no. no, i didn't say that."

"i'm not lying."

"i never—"

"but you're thinking it."

"don't tell me what i'm thinking."

"i don't lie to you."

"you have before."

"so you don't believe me."

"stop trying to put words in my mouth."

"i don't need to, darling. i can see it in your eyes."

4
him: i can't—
her: get it up? i can fix that.
him: no. do this.
her: figure out how to get my dress off?
him: can you—
her: the zipper's on the side.
him: fuck you.
her: fuck you, too.
him: no! well, yeah, maybe. but not right now.
her: why the hell not?
him: i can't have sex with you.
her: are we doing celibacy until we're married so you stop feeling like a failure as a christian?
him: no! on this bed. i can't have sex with you on this bed.
her: you said you would like it no matter what.
him: and i was very wrong.
her: i got it from ikea.
him: i feel like we're inside a massive traffic cone.
her: a king sized traffic cone, really.
him: fine! you win. i hate this bed.
her: i knew it.
him: this is the most unsexy piece of furniture i have seen in my entire life.
her: it was on sale.
him: figures.

d)
do you make babies?

i thought we agreed no more sex questions.

i said probably. do you?

that's not an okay question to ask someone.

why not?

it's private.

but why?

because it concerns you and you alone. stop being nosy.

oh.

so no more questions.

sorry.

why. uh. did you assume i would. you know.

you would what?

have the baby making sort of sex?

are you pregnant?

no! men can't...my girlfriend is not...no. it's just a question.

you would be a good parent.

really?

yes. maybe. i'm not sure.

what's that supposed to mean?

it depends.

on what?

if you let me ask another question.

v.
"does getting someone off count?"

"…what?"

"as losing your virginity. if you aren't turned on."

"i…guess it depends on—"

"what if it was just with your hands? or does it have to be your mouth?"

"—on how you want to look at ."

"what if they get you off? is that intercourse, or foreplay?"

"…"

"what if no one ejaculates?"

"are you upset at me?"

"do you have to fuck someone?"

"you're not yelling and you sound fine, but you never yell and you always say you're fine."

"what if they wanted it but you didn't?"

"you're upset. okay."

"what if they fucked you? what if they fucked you but you don't remember?"

"please stop. i'm sorry. i'm sorry i said anything."

"what if you know how and when and who but you don't remember because you don't want to?"

"jason—"

"don't touch me."

5
her: we're still doing tonight, aren't we?
him: that depends on two things.
her: yeah?
him: whether you mind rug burn…
her: absolutely a nonissue.
him: …and if ikea has a return policy.
her: fuck.

e)
what if you have sex without babies, or love, but it's not assault?

dear lord.

he doesn't exist.

god? yes he does. we'll talk about that when we're done not talking about sex.

can you have making nothing sex?

…yeah.

what's that called?

this is wrong. this is so wrong. i should never have said anything.

i'll just look it up.

friends with benefits.

i thought you only made things with boyfriends and husbands.

yeah, usually.

i think i understand now.

so no more questions?

you can make love with or without babies, and you can make babies with or without love, but if you don't have love, you have nothing at all.

vi.
"i'm sorry."

"what are you apologizing for?"

"for earlier."

"i should be the one apologizing."

"why? because you asked a question and i didn't care for it?"

"it sounds silly when you put it that way."

"i don't try to keep things from you."

"i know."

"you just don't usually ask the right questions. and when you do, it's…perplexing, quite honestly."

"do you want to tell me?"

"not really."

"okay."

"no, that's not what i meant. i do. and i don't mind, i just don't know how to say it."

"tell it like it was?"

"maybe some other time."

"i love you, know."

"i know."

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means that i'm okay."

6
her: this kind of reminded me of our first time.
him: is that a good thing, or a bad thing?
her: what do you think?
him: i don't really know.
her: how do you not know? i took your virginity.
him: we were both virgins.
her: and fucking stupid.
him: and drunk. i don't remember.
her: i was drunk, too.
him: i know.
her: you really don't remember?
him: i kind of remember. it was the year your birthday was on homecoming, right?
her: yeah. at the after party. it was at your house.
him: only because you told everyone my address and said there would be free beer.
her: semantics. oh my god.
him: what?
her: i think i committed statutory rape.
him: how?
her: i was eighteen and you were seventeen and you don't really remember what happened.
him: i don't regret it, though.
her: is that supposed to make me feel better?
him: we're getting married, aren't we?
her: no.
him: …our wedding is next friday?
her: i mean ikea doesn't have a return policy.

f)
what are innuendos?

get out of my office.

vii.
"unwillingly."

"…"

"that's how it happened. how i can explain it, at least"

"i don't know what to say."

"i'm sorry."

"what are you apologizing for?"

"i don't know. i'm sorry i told you? i'm sorry i wouldn't tell you? i'm sorry i didn't lie? i'm just sorry. i'm—"

"i love you."

"i love you, too."

suggestive adageby ~somethingsophie

Literature / Prose / Fiction / Humor / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Mature Content

written for a prompt by

that was shared in the group paper forests.
three) 500 words or more
all dialogue.

i feel awkward categorizing this as humor because some of it is rather not funny. but some of it is supposed to be. and i suppose i could categorize it as erotic, or some kind of romance, but it's not quite romantic, nor alluringly sexual. and that is why dA needs a category for 'unfunny attempts at humor with coarse language'.

in which people are terrible influences with terrible dialogue.

EDIT: a DLD, my goodness, thank you muchly
EDIT x 2: and a DD!

Featured here:

Daily Deviation

Given 2013-02-28

~somethingsophie sums suggestive adage up in the piece's description: it's "not quite romantic, nor alluringly sexual." It is, instead, humorous and engaging dialogue.

Also suggested by `tiganusi and *glossolalias. ( Suggested by `vespera and Featured by ^neurotype )

~~mad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~intricately-ordinary 1 day ago Hobbyist Writer

you are so talented asdkjgfsgks

~Glyscerine Apr 10, 2013 Student General Artist

rethinking my sex life now.

~somethingsophie Apr 10, 2013

heh, not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but thank you for reading!

~Glyscerine Apr 11, 2013 Student General Artist

Its kind of a good thing. Either way, this piece is awesome!!

~somethingsophie Apr 14, 2013

well, thank you! (:

~Flummoxative Apr 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I like this, and I absolutely loved the little girl.

~somethingsophie Apr 7, 2013

Thank you. (:

*Artemis-s-girlxxx Mar 27, 2013

I loved how there's three things going on, open to consideration for who and where 9Like in an office, walking down a street so on.) yet the three are intricately braided together, flowing together, even if they're separate, and tell different ideas. I loved how they flowed and also how they we just conversation, open to interpretations to tone, voice and whatnot. I was hooked from the start and enjoyed the journey through each conversation.

~somethingsophie Mar 29, 2013

Thank you so much for reading + commenting, it means a lot to me.

~Daelyyn Mar 9, 2013

This is so amazing, I couldn't stop reading, so fun, and it has its deep messages too. Really amazing, I hope one day I can read a book by you, that would be amazing <3 !

More from ~somethingsophie

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

suggestive adage

suggestive adageby ~somethingsophie

Daily Deviation

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style