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Quote by Heather Angelika Dooley

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Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream

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Heather Angelika Dooley

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“His mind had patterns, patterns that made puzzles, and puzzles that became mazes. Those mazes had color and became labyrinths— labyrinths that went crazy like jungles— and all he could trust me with was letting my fingers get lost in his curls. I played in there, for years trapped in his hair (that overthought and provoked lair)— the only thing between my thoughts and his: the air. But, he was smart not to trust me enough. He knew. The open air looked at him with slight eyes, issued him binds of lies, like library cards ...full of fiction. And I knew this, so how could I forget? Along the way, I turned into every other female he ever loved. It was his destiny that gave me permission to pull his hair again.”

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Book:Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream
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“This bitterly cold weather is a shift from an even colder half of year. It's as if we're back to some sort of embryonic development that brought us to where we started: an inertia of life— changing positions like atoms within a molecule— the cruel, cruel curse of the winter sunset... a reminder that natural light comes and goes as it damn well pleases.”

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Book:Ink Blot in a Poet's Bloodstream
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“Life has become: video games and live streams, reaching out to strangers to share dreams... talking about important things to open air and vacant, vapid memes... posting things you want to be seen, but knowing that a click of "Like" is all that it means... sitting at dinner eating with family, and feeling your thoughts are less important than media newsfeed. So, I ask you— and answer honestly— are you lonely? We'll never know, will we? Because that would not be post-worthy. No one gets "Likes" when your battery drains faster.”

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“I will always remember the integer that opened me up; but it is clear to me that you always forget the final unit, because that's easier than finding out what is left inside when you can't Master Lock me. Go ahead... forget the combination. I'm finally okay with admitting that we were always at a deadlock anyway.”

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“Your layered, sweater-y, thickset hug around me—I dared to dream of your bare, balmy, broken-down skin tangled in mine. It was a twist of artless fate in my mind. I watched you pull away... on your "Naked" bike. I was covered in a trench coat, but more than naked enough for the both of us....”

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