MistressBurns

    I don't know how to make rice. Gramma does. Gramma makes rice every night and it's never burnt or under cooked. I know a bunch about kitchen stuff because Mom always lets me help her cook. I know how to start the eye, and watch the flame. I don't burn things and I've never caught anything on fire; accidentally. Gramma isn't like Momma though. And her English is not as good. Momma says she speaks Spanglish. I don't understand most of it so I don't speak to Gramma much. And she's not the candy giving sort of Gramma anyways. She is more of the story telling kind of Gramma. Even though I don't understand half of it I like her stories. I want

Every year it gets worse. This need for funds that drives everything I want, need, and couldn't possibly conceive. There are so many "have you seen…?" and "have you been to…?" I've had to practice my responses. "I don't have time" is my go to phrase for 'I don't have cash'. Considering how few truly understand, I spend every second month in the onestop trying to arrange a payment plan I simply cannot afford. I smile and bluff my way through it, as the nice office workers smile and try to commiserate. They can't. They have good jobs, semi-happy families, and a place to call home. In my eyes they've made it. While they're thinking o

This is the story of the girl that offered the still warm heart from her very chest Those she gave her heart for saw that which she freely offered and devoured it like ravenous buzzards When they finished they left her cold empty husk on the blazing desert ground for her to retrieve herself Stomachs full of every thing the girl had to give they flew away only to return as soon as the girl finally finished retreiving the mutilated remains of her heart Circling and screaming demanding more So the girl wishing to feed those she loved put out her left arm and said eat your fill Greedy and uncaring they proceeded to devour her entire left si