Ice Cream - Lindsey Roivas

        The truth is that I really, really, really like ice cream. Call me ordinary, but my favorite is vanilla. There’s just something about it that feels secure and it just tastes oh-so-familiar. I kind of love that. My mom says that I need to stop eating so much of it and “watch my weight.” By the way, have you ever noticed how that phrase doesn’t quite make sense? How can a person watch their weight? Is it like your childhood playmate, which changes and grows into a middle aged working individual? Anyway, it brings me comfort. I think that that matters more than the number on my store-bought pant’s tag. The idea seems most logical to me at least. Maybe I won’t live as long as most due to diabetes, closed arteries, and other various health issues… but really, when it all comes down to the end, I’m going to want to look back and reflect on the fact that I truly enjoyed the time I had, and the ice cream that I ate. Once I’m amongst the dirt’s friends, they’ll be able to smell and taste the remains of lactose, sugar, and sweet memories on me, so it won’t be all that terrible. I also love crowd surfing. It makes me feel infinite. It’s like everyone in like world wants to help lift me and carry my troubles away with the congested air. Sometimes though, the dirt fills my lungs, but I just think about how I’ll be safe soon, close to my destination and inspirations of music. My mom didn’t like hearing about the fact that I participated in such an unsafe action the first time around, but now that I make a habit of doing dangerous things, she doesn’t ask anymore. I kind of like it that way. I’ve always been overprotected by my government-brain-washed, divorced parents. I know that they hear and see things that I can’t imagine in the Department of Defense, but I suppose that it would have been nice to take a walk to the park by myself as a kid. It would have seemed like a marvelous adventure to me. But solitude and my bedroom are my friends. I like to be alone to think and fill my brain with the sound waves that come from my library of music. Different scenarios and thoughts dance around my head and light up like fireflies when I’m left alone to my sanctuary. It’s sort of delightful. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t imagine being without my 4 brothers, 3 sisters, friends, and my dog named Morgan Louise Roivas Burnheimer, who goes by Moose. They are the most meaningful things to me in my essence here on planet Earth.


        I’m not really certain what it is that I’m supposed to be writing about on this small silver of a tree, but I figured that you might want to know a little bit more about who I am. I’m shy, and my dad says that I get that from him. I wasn’t this way though. Believe it or not, back in elementary school I used to be the class clown. And I liked being outgoing. Making people smile and not caring what others thought about me made me happy. That was a time though when 8 year olds didn’t judge or sum an individual up. Truthfully, I have no idea how I am perceived now by others. I’m not sure if that bothers me or not, but I think I sort of like who I am and I wouldn’t change a whole lot about myself. (Other than these awkward arms that I have…) mumbling is a common occurrence with me. My dad yells at me sometimes, and my little sister pokes fun at the fact that I do it often. I think that I subconsciously am afraid to be heard or speak my thoughts. To tell you the truth, this piece of writing that I composed is not what I figured I would be putting together, but I can’t seem to write about anything exceptional anymore without a purpose, and that kind of saddens me. All I know is that I want something that I love and can rely on right- ice cream.

There once was a time - Lindsey Roivas

There once was a time when I was just here, and you were just there.
Not a word was spoken, other than those in such simple polite conversation.
Then all at once your words were clear; they danced in the waves amongst the stale air.
Overtime, we built this amazing amiability and you became my salvation.


You made me feel vital; little did I know how dispensable I really was.
That warm smile that was so dear to my nature is but now foreign and distant.
The memories that carefully hold your voice now only contain an atmospheric buzz.
And what was once our vaguely close correspondence is now in the least bit persistent.


You’ve forgotten that I’m still awake, but yet I can’t make the illusions disappear.
You come visit me once in a while, sometimes weeks at a time, but then I revive
And I realize that you’re still miles away, and those dreams weren’t so sincere.
But that’s not really what I’m so distressed of; instead I can’t live and thrive.


You left me without a note or understanding, only to be fastened tightly to perplexity.
You wouldn’t let my words spark out; they were only to be lost among others of such generics.
But I thought that I was singular, one of something more than alterability?
You proved me wrong and left me to fend for myself and all of the worldly hysterics.


How can I be expected to function when you were my only salvation?
But now I’m just here and you’re just there, you and you liveliness and I in this isolation.

Procreation - Lindsey Roivas

My neighbor is a moron.

He let his child fall from the play set.

I always picked them up.

There was a child who fell from the play set before.

She wasn’t mine, but I was hers.

Although,

Even though she wasn’t mine,

They were my everything.

My heart was split in five pieces.

I had one, and they had the rest.

The puzzle pieces to my heart are now on the other side of the planet.

I imagine rocks, blue depth, and breezes.

I do not know what they see or how their hearts feel.

All I know is my own, which waits for its pieces to return,

So it won’t always be so lonely.

The fifth one ended up on France - Lindsey Roivas

         The fifth one ended up in France. It was absolutely astonishing how the sky lit up and parted the constellations. No one could have ever fathomed the intensity of it all. Children playing outside looked up, and their eyes released a pure glow of wonder, more than that of the normal curiosity a little human being possesses. The swings were left rocking back and forth, and the great sea liners going up and down the Mediterranean’s rough waves, gently glided across the vast sea as the people aboard the boats gazed at the even more vast and endless sky that climbed towards the heavens. The Louvre’s divine windows reflected and revealed the object departing from the cosmos and landing miles away in the coastal European land. One would have thought that the decent would have been harsh and would have caused chaos, but all of the extraordinary living beings and objects of Earth focused up off at the atmosphere and an extravagant hush covered the entire planet. The whole Milky Way galaxy was silent. It was impossible, and yet more possible than anything, since the human mind wasn’t creative enough to conquer the obstacles of what was supposedly the perceived reality. Naturally, it should have obliterated our disbelief in beautiful catastrophes and disasters or the inconsistent curiosities that make up our sublunary world. It was finally here. The fifth one had ended up in France.