Monday, March 9, 2009

the smell of my soul

I was checking out Rainn Wilson's new website: and I came across an interesting question, What does your soul smell like? I thought for awhile about my answer and jotted down a few things. I couldn't really stop at smell; I just went along with it.

My soul is the smell of tobacco on my fingertips, the cool smell of grass at night and the tingling of the air before a thunder storm. It smells like thrift-store t-shirts and dirty sneakers. And the gentle smell of old books.

My soul is a white stray cat walking along a field. It is the sparkle of broken glass, the scrap of a knee, the chip of a tooth. It tastes like sweat and secrets and salt on the rim of my glass.

My soul is ornery, hair standing on end, claws bared, goose-bumps everywhere. It gives a screech and a wail, and purrs in my ear. Guitar rifts, cumming's poems and the tinkle of an ice cream truck's bell.

My soul is the rip of a scab, the depth of a sigh. The waxy feel of chapstick, the fizz of soda, the stain of red wine on my lips. The blood on skin after a new razor. The tingle of a sleeping limb. My soul is the cracking of joints and the brush of nail polish. The press of ink onto paper, pencil shavings, and record grooves. The bite of stomach bile, the burn of gin, and the bittersweet of chocolate.

That's what came to mind. I like it. The website is really interesting and thought provoking.

No comments:

Post a Comment