June Was Never This Cold.

paragraph.

It’s Saturday all over the world. It’s Saturday in Tokyo, its Saturday in Mexico, and its Saturday in Springfield, Ill-Annoys. The June sky is hanging too low. It feels crowded here on earth, where we dig up dirt to ditch the dead. The sky is watching us watching it cry. Rain is too cliché to put in a story anymore, so I’ll leave it behind. Puddles don’t fall from the sky, you know. It takes a million raindrops to make a puddle of ignorance this big. Not even the sidewalks remember me, anymore. Even after the bonding time we spend together, getting soaked under the big ugly shredded clouds that never stay to talk for long. Heaven still makes my mouth go dry, and I swear I could gulp down the whole ocean after just one look in the eye. Let me drink myself to kidney failure. I’m only here as long as you need me. I’ve wasted too much time on daydreaming, too much money on drumsticks, and too much breath convincing people I’m worth their time. Denial tastes too good to listen to truth, but not sharp enough to cut the capillaries making tunnels from my heart to his. I wish I was high so I could hear the wind telling me what I need to hear. Makeshift brainwaves will just have to do. Not 20 minutes ago, a bottle was staring me in the face. But then I sneezed, and they scattered, and I knew I just wasn’t patient enough to pick up my killers, one pill at a time. I don’t understand a lot of things. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just glue my pride between his teeth. I don’t understand why the moon sticks around when it can never shine as brightly as the sun. And I don't understand why its the thought that counts, when action speaks louder than words.

And now the sun is setting in the low hanging June sky, and I pretend to ignore it. I’m angry at its honesty.

Everyone needs sleep, eventually.

Author's Note

�Don�t worry, Chloe bell. Everything will feel better in the morning.�
How many times ive heard that one.

shitty ending.
help?

Reviews

[No]

i just read this again, without realizing that i posted earlier, but all i have to say is that you are absolutely incredible.

[No]

I don't understand why he doesn't just glue my pride between his teeth. I don't understand why the moon sticks around when it can never shine as brightly as the sun. And I don't understand why its the thought that counts, when action speaks louder than words.
this is my favorite part.
well, actually there are a few more, but it would be weird to post about half of the entire paragraph down here, so this'll have to do for now.

this is one of the best things i've read in a long time, professional and non.
it reminds me of a song i feel like i've been listening to but i can't figure out just what.

i think the ending is just fine, maybe cut off the last sentence about sleep or make it into a more complete picture, but i think if you cut it off at "actions speak louder than words" it would end perfectly.

[Zatoichi]

June Was Never This Cold.

A Prose Poem by Chloe Madison.

It's Saturday all over the world.
It's Saturday in Tokyo,
its Saturday in Mexico, and
its Saturday in Springfield, Ill-Annoys. The June sky is hanging too low. It feels crowded here on earth, where we dig /turn/ up dirt to ditch the dead.
The sky is watching us watching it cry. Rain is too clich� to put in a story anymore, so I'll leave it behind. Puddles don't fall from the sky, you know. It takes a million raindrops to make a puddle of ignorance this big. Not even the sidewalks remember me anymore. Even after the bonding time we spend together, getting soaked under the big ugly shredded clouds that never stay to talk for long. Heaven still makes my mouth go dry, and I swear I could gulp down the whole ocean after just one look in the eye. Let me drink myself to kidney failure.
I'm only here as long as you need me. I've wasted too much time on daydreaming, too much money on drumsticks, and too much breath convincing people I'm worth their time. Denial tastes too good to listen to truth, but not sharp enough to cut the capillaries making tunnels from my heart to his.
I wish I was high so I could hear the wind telling me what I need to hear. Makeshift brainwaves will just have to do. Not 20 minutes ago, a bottle was staring me in the face. But then I sneezed, and they scattered, and I knew I just wasn't patient enough to pick up my killers, one pill at a time.
I don't understand a lot of things. I don't understand why he doesn't just glue my pride between his teeth. I don't understand why the moon sticks around when it can never shine as brightly as the sun. And I don't understand why its the thought that counts, when action speaks louder than words.

And now the sun is setting in the low hanging June sky, and I pretend to ignore it. I'm angry at its honesty.

Everyone needs sleep, eventually.

* I tried to edit this but only changed one word. i think turn up the dirt to ditch the dead works better.

this is not one of my favorites you've written but it has helped me understand your appeal to me as a writer. Your work is very much about being a young person but written with a cynicism as sharp or sharper than a lot of adults.
I hope you don't perceieve things to be as miserable as some of your lines would indicate. all the highs and lows of adolescence just get higher and lower as you age. enjoy your life. btw- i like the ending