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Beautiful Disaster

My mind holds a prodigious amount of unsaid words.  Descriptive sentences, recited on pages stored in dusty files or cramped quarters of my subconscious.  I do little with aggression other than to run it off, or punch a bag. No one wants to hear the whines or cockamamie stories, when they themselves live in a world of garbage piled so high you’d need a ladder to climb to the top.

My eyes have been trained to listen. I listen for those whose minds have been erased, but have forgotten how to speak.  I am cursed and blessed, you see. I am blessed with the ability to read between your lines, but cursed, because no one can read me. 

Overall



Lauren! The way you travel in this piece - it's so natural and the contrasts are stark.Your voice is powerful in this piece. There is a rumbling anger and frustration that is tempered with a desire to be rational - a struggle many of us experience.  Sometimes as a reader of a sort of "confessional" piece like this, I try to put myself in the place of the one to whom the piece is directed.  So, the experience for the reader is one of being chastised for our failure and sympathetic for the author in her plight. The notion of eyes that listen (as the all-seeing eye is a part of your essence) is novel to me. I interpret it as the eye taking in words and images that are then translated into thoughts that resound in the mind of the beholder, but also are reinterpreted for what they signify as actions or for what they fail to do or express. I think I've begun to ramble. My apologies. In summary, I enjoyed this piece very much. Personally, I'd like to hear you read this piece out loud. I've heard your voice and it has so much character.Also, kudos to you for using the word "cockamamie". :)