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((Text reads: )) Once upon a time implies that there is a clear beginning. But there isn't. Maybe we can start with a girl and a balloon. But maybe that's the middle of the story. It could even be the end. Who knows what that girl has gone through to reach this point. Who knows what her life could have left in store for her. She's a nameless, faceless stranger, after all. Just a random person sending out a story attached to a balloon. How strange. The truth is that she's got electric green hair and purple eyes. She likes to wear boots and beige overcoats. She hates hats, but she hates earrings ever more. She's 5'3" and taller than her broth

You find him on the bus heading from Oak to Birch (streets are always named after the trees they replace). You have your sketchbook with you. Apparently, you need to learn how to focus in on one part of the body. So you stare at the man on the sear opposite your own and decide to sketch his hands. His hands are worn. They're slightly wrinkled, though the rest of him is so youthful that you decide it can't be from age. He's very muscular, tensed arms causing his veins to strain visibly against thin skin. It's easy to imagine that his grip is firm. His hands have sat flat against his legs for several minutes now, displaying medium length finge

To the girl in the red shoes With black heels and too-tight straps And the hat with fake feathers, Playing cards, and tea cup To the girl in the vintage dress With yellow roses and faded pink bow And a scarf in 90 degree weather Despite the burned red of your face To that girl Listen Summer's almost over and the geese are flying home The flowers are all fading an The coffee is never sweet enough Listen Girl, you left behind your notebook At the intersection of Manny and Jones I took a look inside. Hope you don't mind To that girl I have some advice The next time you fall into a fountain, splash a friend The next time your

There are smiling magnets with rainbow hair and button eyes on the fridge. There are no children here. On the shelf rests a pure white ceramic angel. She wants to smash it. The classroom has a list of rules on the wall, such as "Be nice" and "Don't tell lies." Those children will never follow them all. In the parking lot, a policeman in a neon green vest talks to a woman. She wonders why the police are never there when you actually need help. You can see in through the windows. You still don't know what happens inside. A cockroach hangs from a spider web noose. Who is happier? There's a battery lying on the side of the road. Abandoned p

Stream of consciousness Flow of words with no real Thought Direction Control Swept away by the raging tide Buried below groundwater Claustrophobic Trapped under the weight of your own mind Crushed Have you ever been prey to a thought? Repeating. Repeating. Repeating. Screaming. Broken brain behind a plastic smile Plastic doll. Empty mannequin. Human being. Ant. Small, helpless, ant. Do you realize how easily you can be crushed? I used to light ant beds on fire I would watch the ants panic Run from their homes And drown. Water will not put out a chemical fire You may think that you're above it all. That you can soar over

Who am I? I don't know. A writer, I suppose. I write. I leave behind a trail of words because Babe? I'm going to die. You will, too. That's part of life, you know. Dying. We're all dying. Second by second, breath by breath, word by unspoken word. We're dying. It's my dream that I'll die Before I can lose myself. Society covers me like a second skin. It turns my pain into beauty. Thin is bones poking through skin is beauty. Innocent is hopeless despair is beauty. Shy is overwhelming terror is beauty. The underlying message is that you will fix her. The underlying message is that She is broken. And that's lovely. How do you hold a broke