Carrie Elizabeth Bice
Stories (4/0)
The Night of the Election
It starts with an offer to chain smoke and talk about life, an offer that any logical person can't refuse. I get my words confused, my conversations rather. It makes me feel like a bad person, like I've had too many interpersonal conversations lately; like I've bared my soul to the point where she can no longer find her shirt when the sun starts to rise and light starts to stream into the short windows panes, and she's embarrassed. But when we woke up, my skin was barely concealed by the mismatched covers that occupy the mattress that I paid one hundred dollars for to keep my back off of the floor, and I wasn't embarrassed.
By Carrie Elizabeth Bice5 years ago in Humans
Little Motel
I've cleaned up my act for the time being. I am sober, I pay my bills on time, I remember to wash my hair, I don't smoke anymore, and have replaced most of my vices with a newfound love for Diet Coke. I’ve found that there’s not much sense in trying to get rid of vices altogether; they can just be substituted for something less offensive. It's not much to write home about, but it's a gentle and consistent existence. I say "for the time being" because I know there's still this creepy, mangled thing that lives inside of me. It is hibernating right now, but I know myself and I know that it's only a matter of time before I go back to my "old ways."
By Carrie Elizabeth Bice5 years ago in Psyche
Ladybug
One of the only (if not the only) insect whose name implies a gender. These arthropods go through parthenogenesis, a reproduction within themselves, asexuality. Yet they are stuck with this name given to them from some scientists who decided that it was fitting. They dress in spot, some have rich red shells, others wear more muted shades of amber.
By Carrie Elizabeth Bice5 years ago in Poets