High Ramblings about Books

I promise this will be a short one.
I love books. I love them so much it hurts sometimes. I love stories and the wild worlds people create. I love the meaning entrenched in so many works.
It’s funny, I normally can’t tell you what my favorite book is. But at the moment, I think I’ve figured it out. Don’t judge me for this, but my all time favorite books would have to be Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. For some reason I am in love with the Bronte sisters’ stories.
These books, have had the biggest impact on me, and I dont even know why.
Its just kind of funny, cause I write fantasy/fiction, yet I dont draw my favorite books from that genre. I mean literary fiction, yes. But that other kind of fiction? Not so much. Or maybe its the other way around. Well anyways, I’m going to go read Jane Eyre cause I couldn’t find Wuthering Heights.

-high ramblings of a stoner


The sun shines bright, like a spotlight in the crimson sky,

The azure grass dances and the cerulean trees pirouette,

The girl with a raven as her hair sings, and prepares to die,

She knows that they won’t last, past today.


She stands on a rusty cliff and the violet sea rages,

Her raven thrashing around violently in the wind,

Every part of her has been locked up in cages,

Her feathers wilt and decay, never being attended.


Off the cliff, the raven-haired girl leaps,

Howling and screaming silence the rushing air,

The violet waves violently creep,

To devour the girl with the raven hair.


Alas, she is rescued by a gentle zephyr,

Baby blue and lavender, it carries her away,

To escape life’s departing gift to her,

Death’s sweet embrace will forever lay.


The girl with the raven hair carries on sadly,

Wishing that death would have ferried her away,

Instead, it is Everlife that gives her the key,

To survive and her darkness to slay.


She is ferried away privately,

Into wonderland she finds herself,

Where the rabbit invites her to tea,

And her worries are absolved by a friendly elf.

The flowers always dance and sing,

And the dragons protect her from harm,

Here she is a queen, forever mirroring,

Her childhood dreams that always held such charm.


But on the rough stones, her body lays broken,

Her soul forever free to roam the dreams of a forgotten world,

The violent waves hush and turn into a silent din,

Everlife kisses her and both her wings are unfurled.

The Hospital

White. Everything is that pure, sterile color. It’s the kind of white that makes you feel dirty. The kind of white that begs of you to be pure, to be clean, to be faultless and unsullied; yet at the same time relegates you to forever be defective and impure in contrast to its perfection. Everything in the room I am in is that horrendous hue. The seamless walls, the smooth and unbroken floor, the slab of a door, even the chair I am strapped to is that color.

But I know it won’t be for long.

The door begins to jiggle. I gaze up at the harsh, fluorescent light. Will this be the closest thing to sunshine I’ll ever see again?

I don’t look at the Doctor as he enters the room. I hear the steady, calm clapping of his shoes on the white floor. He draws near. I refuse to look at him. I already know his appearance: white scrubs, white apron, white gloves, white surgical mask and cap, and black goggles. I remember staring into those goggles as he began his first surgery. This will be the fifth. I am a seasoned veteran. He has actually told me that he is surprised I have lasted so long. He’s had me the longest.

The Doctor takes my face in his white-gloved hands, he holds it in the position I had initially been keeping it in and straps down my chin and forehead. He then uses some kind of metal device to pin both of my eyes open. I continue to stare at the light. That’s what you have to do. That’s how you survive. I imagine myself floating up into the white light, I imagine myself flying far, far away from here.

Suddenly, the Doctor’s face eclipses the light, my salvation. I see something in his hand; it appears to be an ice cream scooper. He bends over and directs his weapon at my left eye.


Then nothing.

Black. Everything is that distant, desolate color.