A.I. Reads
Bio
"She wore her heart like high fashion. She had small shame in her game. She wrote with purest intentions. She held her mind to the blame." - a.i.reads
I am an intuitive reader, who enjoys channeling the many voices of Spirit in my work.
Stories (15)
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C.R.E.A.M.
When insanity peaked, I couldn’t just rub my eyes. It clawed at my inner eyelids and climbed up the ribs left in my chest. I was filled with this desire to let go of what no longer served me- the messages never sent, the calls never returned, the time never spent, spotlights with nobody to show for it. I lost my pepe and sugar. I couldn’t muster a smile if touch tickled my insides. I didn’t allow time for suffering to exist. Salt water pricked, welled up, but never jumped. All my fear turned to anger. It was easier to feel aggressively than in the quiet. I was afraid. If I had shed tears for you, I wasn’t sure that they would ever stop. I was too afraid to mourn; they say it’s all a part of acceptance and feeling things. but even the unnatural things, the forbidden, the taboo, the hidden- when it all came to light, did you still love everything you saw?
By A.I. Reads5 years ago in Poets
by the bar
We were the thing of champions; shiny collectibles that gathered dust in the corner while other lovers walked out the front door. I'm guilty too. I jumped ship before the wind could lift sail. "Better off without me." I was a pistol waiting to be left in the wrong hands. I let my anger get the best of me. Cloud me up like a hotbox with the incense burnin' and a little nostalgia. But, living like I do, I wore my heart of my sleeve like high fashion. It was winter all the time- without the Christmas. I could never quite get the timing right. People keep handing me gifts, not knowing my hands been clumsy. I always felt the need to warn 'em. They give anyway. I don't suppose it's my heart. She isn't always well, trusting without the decency of shame. Speaking before I've had the chance to think. She doesn't know what she wants. Or maybe, I've been resistant. Still, I only know that she wants more, and these days she's never content. She gets a lot of people upset- emotional mother-lover.
By A.I. Reads5 years ago in Poets
