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mouse last won the day on December 7 2017

mouse had the most liked content!

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About mouse

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  1. i'm not dead, everyone, just up to my ears in writing and reading for my prose class, and young adult lit, and prepping for a job interview. i shall become a youth librarian. i wrote two stories to turn into novels. and my professor wants me to become a high school english teacher. i graduate college in may. i am drifting into a void, i feel like. my anchors soon gone. school is structure, and who am i without it? agh. so much work to be done.

    1. queenie_flower


      I’m proud of you, mouse! 

    2. The Invincible Troodon

      The Invincible Troodon

      "...and who am i without it?" A wonderful person, writer, and youth librarian to boot! 

  2. golden hour at one a.m.

    i put a notice out onto thesproutclub tumblr + twitter that i wanted to write poems and letters for people, if they needed it, so i thought i'd post them here as well. anon: "a poem about loving something other than... love haha. if that makes any sense. how there is so much to this world besides romance. this is for the writing/poem thing you posted" tonight i get out of the dark by sinking into it, by becoming what i drink in, rolling my neck and listening to the joints crack, snap, and i swirl this body through this cold air, arms wide like wings spread and let the music carry me home. we wear our jeans with the cuffs rolled up, and tonight i slip off my combat boots and hang them by their laces on the coat rack. i let —- write a note in sharpie to the inside of my jacket- the inside of the empty pocket that rests over my heart- so i can keep this close by. just for me. we mix warmth into mugs and this song reaches between my bones dissolved into the liquid: my arms, uncrossed. this morning i cried until i laughed so hard that i cried again. —- hugs me so hard that it stamps an ache into my arms, but i don’t care. the dog trots in from another room and slips and skips between our legs and we sing and forget age and breathe hard in and out. alongside each other. this is our golden hour. wrapped up in air gone black and lamp lights lit. the softening coming from the tone of my smile, not the setting of the sunken sun. this is my golden hour, the slant to which i like my body best: upright. warmth spilled from my cup onto my wrists, and just now, i kiss them dry.
  3. mare crisium (tw s h)

    this is so helpful!! thank you so much, definitely editing with these points. x
  4. that time he called me his bear

    omg you're so so sweet, thank you for this!!!!! love u x
  5. mare crisium (tw s h)

    thank you so much!!! and i agree, it's a bit much; the italics are just bc it's a michelangelo quote with the pronouns changes, so i wanted it to kind of signal the quote... but ye you right.
  6. Hell Has Occurred But Whatever

    "Hell Has Occurred But Whatever" big mood if you used evernote, get premium for a minute to recover them... otherwise... dude... i am soooooooooooo sorry. i know that sinking pit. try to not think about it :((((((( also, once i get something that i like, i've started copying them into a nice notebook and/or printing them, just so i have multiple points of access.... again, my condolences, this sucks :/
  7. Report From the Outer Layer

    i love this.... i love the title... i love hte confusion that comes through, the image warps in the readers mind, much like gender... yeah.
  8. mare crisium (tw s h)

    she asks if i want to hurt myself that i can tell her anything so i shake my head. because i’m not hurting my self or my body, i’m just a modern michelangelo. removing every part of me that isn’t. i just saw the angel in the marble and carved until i set us free. critiques welcome! i have another drafts that has "part of me that isn't / me" but i like this much better, if it makes sense? pls critique, i'm trying to get better and publish my crap someday lmao as if hashtag instagram poetry idk what 2 say thanks 4 reading i only have ghostly scars by now but im feeling like a ghost so be safe, kiddos
  9. General housekeeping by Slammers

    tags show up on forum home pages for me? and YES. TW are important.
  10. pen names!

    yall! so! when/if ya straight up publish work, what do you use, your real name or a pen name? so i've been published in cicada under like three names. smh @ me. I've used a stage name (mouse, as i am here). one time an anthology rejected my pen name, used my real name, but misspelled my last name. but i think i have finally settled on "jo rather." thought?? idk man. jo referencing jo march and also joe willard, two writing fictional cuties. rather, my mom actually thought of after seeing the poster i made of levi the poet's lyrics: "i'd rather have you than all of my answers." so anyway, yeah, i'm just curious. if you use a pen name, how did you choose? why?
  11. Hows the Weather?

    idek what to say. like yesterday? 20 fucking degrees. today? 60. dude i dont know what tf is happening. welcome to kansas.
  12. ok so the following is a compilation of 2 am text messages between me and this guy. i'm leaving my words normal, his in italics. it's very prosey??? i didn't write very poetically? idk, i'm not sharing this bc i think it's successful, but i think it's a TINY bit cute, and i'm writing a chapbook about peter SOOO) upon seeing jesus on the shore, peter leapt into the sea. maybe he hoped the water would carry his feet. i think, he needed a moment to breathe. or not. float. swim alone, with every fish given to him by the one who forgave his fear. who would soon ask if he loved Him thrice. underwater none of his tears would matter. for just a moment, he turned his world all dark blue. I got lost in that shade. The one between cerulean and sadness. And Jesus could see me shimmying out the curve of my doubt between the swallow of my skin below the tide, and my bouncing eyes from side to side. One piece wish he’d let me walk, another wished I could sink to the wailing wash. To crush myself to the light and let the rest rise with the sun. three breathes, a heartbeat, lungs raspy as the sand clinging static to that alive man’s feet. he trudged up, slowly, arms full, fish 153. jesus laughed. broke bread. ocean eyed and messy hair, curling into a tiny midnight ocean. held his palms up to the sky and dropped crumbs through the holes, shooting stars tight against the sun. “nice party trick, eh?” jesus asked, nudging his dripping body. all water soaked. heart all yeshua soaked. too big for peter’s tight tomb of a chest. a sea sponge too precious to squeeze. “my son, do you love me?” he asked, “the kind of love with its mouth and arms open agape.” (the son of god demonstrated arms open wide) peter, a rock in his own hand, against his own skull, and the gaping hole in his own chest, a joke of empty hands, “you,” he whispered,
  13. that time he called me his bear

    this might be really dumb but what is tMG? educate me ^.^ and THANK YOU. x thank you so much!! x