cigarette between his lips,
tar-induced lungs struggling to inflate –
struggling to make sense
of a war
where men are only equal
when they're dead.
“Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
The best way to describe Madeline is fun-loving, outgoing and a wee bit silly. As a green tea drinking and oatmeal-crazed, green smoothie enthusiast, she resides in Tasmania, Australia, where the weather is rainy one minute, then sunny the next. When she isn’t studying her butt off, she is often perusing the internet mindlessly, talking about Star Trek and perfecting her coconut slice recipe.
I am a blogger for Sci-Fi Bloggers and Fat Girl Food Squad.
If you add me on Twitter, send me a message on here, and I will follow you back: twitter.com/writer_madeline
Soldier, December 3rd 2013
Daily Literature Deviation:
Ocean Captive, April 10th 2013
Soldier, December 1st 2013
HypotheticalsI could talk about myself forever, you know.
I could lean across the lounge, lay my head on your shoulder and just breathe myself into your skin
and maybe you’d be too drunk to hear the mumbling.
I wouldn’t care. I’d make believe that you were listening.
I’m not a liar
but I don’t know if I’m honest, either
people say twenty-something like it’s supposed to carry meaning
and I’ve never, I never, I’ll never fit in.
When I was six I tricked my classmates into thinking I had a real nose ring.
I danced without care. I won a prize just for smiling.
I wish I was still that girl
Instead of a bundle of hair and ribs and wonky thoughts
vainly trying to straighten out
always stumbling into things.
I could listen to you forever, though.
I’d sink like a stain into the cushions and
make believe that I was talking.
I’m good at that kind of thing.
My Life's RoadtripMy life... my life is like a vortex of emotions
that pour out from me constantly, turbulent
unperturbed by the influx of many people
coming and going about with their business;
as if the world wasn't enough to deal with
now I have to dwell and reside in this little
closet. closets aren't a place for secrets, only
a window where we can reminisce and ponder
on who and what we truly are. Hence I find
myself, waiting; pondering over the many
faces I've held, and not one was consistent
divided into many forms it was...
The face of happiness... Ah! How shall I describe it
It is like a dream that I am unable to absolve completely
Picture Doctor Strangelove as a chibi (although he was one)
Or a Pixar movie made out of war, or a Looney Toons
cartoon with bombs pouring out in worthless Afghanistan -
"hey, nobody says the Afghans deserve pity, only lots
of pacifism and fascism," with everyone looking
back at me with shocked and confused faces.
They don't get the joke - b