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About WanderingMonster

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  1. Overheard Quotes

    My friend works in our town's rescue squad and her team says some pretty random things so here are some good ones: "Why do you have a cow spine?" "You're not in squad issued uniform!" "I don't care, it's dysfunctional Thursday." "Do fish hibernate?" "Bacteria can be male or female??" "Kroger starts with K. I find that morally wrong." "You can't control me! I'll come at you like a spider monkey!" "Want some vomit pants?"
  2. Lioness

    I’ve never written you a poem. You don’t lend yourself to words, you see; You’re too strong, an oak To the little willow tree I am And I don’t know how to write a poem For a silent, seething mountain, A girl who could go volcano And fly in a fury to send vengeance Upon those who dare upset Her scattered equilibrium. No one writes poems for the lioness, Headstrong and stubborn And already too proud For calming words and coming into being. You’re the protector, the badass, the ‘I’ll drop kick you across the whole city If you mess with my sister,’ Who can still be a warrior While wearing a dress. I can’t be eloquent about A lightsaber fighting spitfire, Grumpy in the mornings And spouting sass all afternoon. It’s too hard; my poems are supposed To be soft and gentle but you Have always been powerful, Serious and stoic Until suddenly you say something To get us all laughing. And my poetry, too, is about eloquence But you and I don’t often talk with words, We speak with expressions and thoughts and hands, With random inside jokes and stories. That’s why I’ve never written you a poem before, Because you’re more important to me Than any words I know.
  3. South Wind

    It was September When you said you were leaving. I remembered last spring, the way you showed up out of the snow, promising light and warmth And adventure, And I believed you. It was wonderful, for a while; The world was different and wild and colorful And the sun stayed out longer, The skies were brighter Until they weren’t anymore. Your words pulled on my heartstrings, A warning that winter was coming. The sun started to set and I didn’t escape the cold until April came again but By then it didn’t hurt that you had gone. The world revolved, once, And I was entirely whole by May; Even though spring came late this time It was gentler than the last.
  4. Exquisite Corpse: April 2018

    and gaze with wonder for the sky is ours.
  5. Fireflies

    Sometimes I think you’re like the fireflies My friends and I caught on summer evenings When we were barely old enough to speak. There was always something wild and strange About holding a living, ethereal glow in our hands. I taught them to flatten their palms, Let the lightning bugs alight on little fingers Before flitting away into the night air. When you flew away too, I held my hands open. I wonder, now, if I should have cupped them closed.
  6. The thing about hope

    Hope’s a funny thing. Sometimes it’s bubbles, like sunlight and flying And sometimes it bashes you into the rocks far below. It’s all a cycle, endless searching and finding and losing and doing it over again. I don’t know why people keep trying to get up after they fall, For the ground is steady beneath my feet And I don’t feel the world spin from down here. But then my brain says ‘stay awake, keep trying, Keep fighting, for when you plummet, it means The time before it was worth it all.’ I want to tell my mind I’m tired of this, That I don’t want to hurt anymore, But it keeps holding on to hope, those summer breezes And lavender butterflies, bright stained-glass and dreams. I’ve tried countless times to get it to stop But it won’t and it seems I’ll keep suffering. Is rose-colored, ember sparked to life, Heart beating rapid adrenaline rush Even worth burnt lips and aching fingers, Wrists striped red at the end of the road? I can’t pretend to know. That’s the thing about hope; It’s floating, holding on every time I manage to climb back from the abyss again And maybe it won’t end because I need it Just as much as I need you.
  7. November

    You confuse me. I can’t understand How, on the outside, you’re cold and strange, Arctic fox and ice shards in the snow fields, Frost dusted stones and frozen lakes beneath Rime coated pine trees. And then you hold out your hands to me; Suddenly it’s warmth like autumn, Like oaks and orange leaves, Like cinnamon and nutmeg And November. When you hold me for those brief, hidden moments It feels like embers and I forget how Your words are winter winds and your blizzard soul Chills me to the bone. All of that is gone With your arms around me, Sunset colored and comforting. I’ve never really been good at describing love, But I think it’s like you, like that moment When winter and fall are one, When fjord blue eyes meet mine And campfires flicker around us And you just stay here, with me, And it's November. Author's Note: This is probably cliché and ohlook I've fallen in love with a childhood friend.
  8. Why do we march?

    This is so powerful - the first number 6 especially. (Speaking of which, numbers 5 and 6 repeat.)
  9. Plea for help

    I know this is likely a repeat of advice you've heard countless times before, but this place: National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433) 
(24 hours) Is a good (also it's anonymous) number to use if you're ever considering something like suicide. The Slam is full of kind people, and even though I don't know any of them personally, they're all really awesome and respectful and constructive. I recommend joining the Discord - if you haven't already - if you want to talk to everyone more frequently. This community is great because everyone is here for everyone else. You can talk to me, too. I can't promise I'll give good advice, but I'll listen.
  10. Overheard Quotes

    "That's not a shark, it's a penguin!"
  11. american purgatory

    I love this poem and its imagery. (Also I've lived in the southeast countryside all my life and I still feel terrified by it.)
  12. Dreams

    Oh this is great! I have so many weird dreams. I dreamed once that I was scuba diving with this group of people; we were exploring and we found this underwater sunken ship, but there was air inside and it was really well lit, and there were pink, flowered plants growing in the sunlight inside it. We were for some reason really excited that it was an old launching point for submarines. There were some ancient, rusty subs docked in the bottom. We had taken off all our gear in the air pocket, but for some reason we had to put it on again AFTER we went back out into the water... so we had to hold our breath while swimming and trying to put our gear on. And then we had to go back into the ship because there were still some people in it (they left their air tanks there or something). Then it mysteriously started sinking farther into the sea and taking on water, so we all ran out of the ship. Also I think I dreamed this all from the point of view of my mother.
  13. The Old Farm

    You know those old farm houses? The ones out on Meadowbrook Road Behind the briar bushes and mulberry trees? There’s a couple buildings that have tumbled to the ground, But I’ve found some that still stand there, in the waving grass. They’ve lasted for who-knows-how long And the wood planks are rotting but something About the cracked concrete and shattered windows Makes it beautiful, in a woodsy, haunting sort of way. When it’s morning, or the middle of the day The sun shines on the little lake there And slants in through the holes in the sheet metal ceilings. I like to stand in the middle of the dusty floors And look at the paintings on the walls. There’s one with a mermaid, and another That says ‘find true love.’ I didn’t find it there, In the summer park with the rusting cars, The soaring, skylight silos, the eroded creek. I didn’t find it in the ancient trees Or the tiny hidden graveyard With the weathered marble stones carved with maple leaves, But I did find something close to home there, Beneath the pines and the strange circle of stones. I felt the ghosts of a long ago time in those fields And they weren’t lost or sad, they were just peaceful.
  14. Zombie Girl

    Zombie Girl is in the bathroom again when I walk in. She’s always there, standing in front of the last sink next to the tampon dispensers pretending to fix her hair. She watches me through the mirror as I enter the stall in the corner, the one the light doesn’t reach, the one no one’s supposed to look at. I try to avoid glancing at her as I slip in and out of the cafeteria restrooms each lunch period each day. I don’t know Zombie Girl’s real name, but she must know me. She haunts the neighborhood next to mine and glares resentfully at me as she steps onto the bus on cold mornings when I can’t walk the mile or so to school. She whispers things three seats behind me to an old, forsaken friend of mine and I curl up so my head can’t be seen over the back of my row. She stares balefully when I pass her in the halls. I wonder if I wronged her in a past life, or maybe a long time ago when we were children and I just can’t recall. Zombie Girl is grey, with a doughy, definitely-not-alive face and dull eyes. I think maybe she wants to eat someone’s soul and her sluggish zombie instincts have led her to me. She is strange, angry at a world that dares to include me in it, and I can’t help skulking fearfully away whenever she walks by. A few days pass and Zombie Girl still finds herself in the bathroom at the same time as me. I tell my sister about this, slightly worried. My sister doesn’t know or remember her either. She tells me it’s probably nothing, that Zombie Girl just gives that expression to everyone else, too. “Maybe she’s just tired. Maybe you’re imagining it.” I try to listen to her advice. I lay low and begin to convince myself that her sour expression isn’t meant for me. Then a friend of mine sends me a text. ‘Wanna know something weird? There’s this girl at Mason’s lunch table who absolutely hates you.” I’m taken aback, confused about who it might be, about why that might be. 'She keeps ranting about you, saying things about how nasty you are. She seems convinced that you’re a player just because you dated her ex.' I’m mildly uncomfortable now, to say the least. He gives me a name I can put a face to and I put two and two together with a little help from last year’s yearbook. Zombie Girl’s emotionless grin glares back at me from the little colored photo. I don’t know what to do, so I sit there and stare at it and try not to freak out. I try to stop the irrational thoughts flowing through my brain. You know what gossip can do to a person’s reputation. I don’t have much of a reputation, so I tell myself that everything’s fine. I have friends who know me better than a creepy zombie girl’s word. I push down my worries, convince myself that opinions are okay, that maybe she thinks I’m mean because she’s just jealous. It’s finally enough to stop the fear. So I go back to school knowing, at least, why Zombie Girl stares hatefully at me. If there’s a reason, I tell myself, it’s less creepy. When I walk into the bathroom at lunch, as always, Zombie Girl comes in a few minutes later. I wonder how long she’ll keep up this baleful glaring, expending the energy to be furious at me. I wonder when something will change. But instead of saying anything, I avoid her gaze, hide my nervous mistrust, act natural, keep going, because apparently I have to live with Zombie Girl’s anger now. I’ve never really been good at those post-apocalyptic survival games, though.