Post by Pseudomuse on Feb 1, 2005 16:41:53 GMT -8
- this was another little writing piece i did in creative writing. we had to describe a sterotyped person, that didn't fit the mold. so here it is. id like to expand this piece but im not sure how. id apprieciate any comments. thanks PM.
She sits in the window seat of the bookstore perusing such things as Neruda and Burke delving into pages, the poetry of the past. You think she shouldn’t be there, with her thick dark eyes, short dress and the black rip-off go-go boots clamped to her sinewy thighs. Purple bruises creep down from the hem of the frayed jeweled clothing. You think that she’d rather belong walking the street, flirting with the low-life’s that could afford her. She curled into the soft cushions relishing in the feel of the cloth on her wind stripped extremities. You smirk at her happiness, for what does she know, but Neruda and Burke, and the sewer she calls home. But then she looks up from her book and pins you to the wall. Sadness drips from glowing green orbs, she uses for eyes and she smiles.
Only Another Slogan for Type Casting
She sits in the window seat of the bookstore perusing such things as Neruda and Burke delving into pages, the poetry of the past. You think she shouldn’t be there, with her thick dark eyes, short dress and the black rip-off go-go boots clamped to her sinewy thighs. Purple bruises creep down from the hem of the frayed jeweled clothing. You think that she’d rather belong walking the street, flirting with the low-life’s that could afford her. She curled into the soft cushions relishing in the feel of the cloth on her wind stripped extremities. You smirk at her happiness, for what does she know, but Neruda and Burke, and the sewer she calls home. But then she looks up from her book and pins you to the wall. Sadness drips from glowing green orbs, she uses for eyes and she smiles.