Journal Entry: Sat Nov 10, 2012, 3:30 PM
Epic Tale - Chapter 5 - Part 1Finally, the storm clouds were gone and the wind had died down. Not far away from the ship there was a plain island covered with a thick green jungle. A sandy beach was surrounding it.
"We need ta find out where we are", the captain said. "Aisuru, Sparky and Latte, I want you to scout this island."
Aisuru nodded simply, Sparky grinned and Latte almost jumped out of joy. Her first task as a black fedora spy!
After they had prepared, they left the ship with a dinghy. They didn't stay long at the beach and went into the forest. "I suggest splitting up. The island is big and we are capable of defending ourselves.", Aisuru said and vanished in the thick undergrowth.
"I hope I will not get lost in there...", Latte muttered. Sparky turned around and smiled at her.
"Don't worry! We can team up, if you want."
Latte nodded happily. Though she was a spy, she didn't want to be alone on a dangerous island.
Carefully the two girls made their way through the thick undergrowth.
Yaku's Story Chapter 2I struggled against my bindings. Whoever tied me up had skill because I had no wiggle room at all. I could feel as the ropes began to cut through my skin, sending a burning pain on the surface of my body. The room was probably dimmly lit due to the fact that only a small fire kept me barely warm. Now I felt cold as the sweat that dripped from my face due to my failed attempt at escape began to make me cold.
After a while, the same voice said,
"Are you done yet?"
I growled as I replied.
A small, feminine sigh fell over the room as I heard the person pull up a chair not too far from me.
"My name is Mika. I want to help you."
I laughed roughly.
"I don't know who you are kidding because you don't even know what I'm going through."
The half-human Mika tensed.
"Maybe not, but we are alike. I can tell."
The thought of not being alone sent a brief wash of warmth across a me. All I could see was Nituuku's face.
"Alike my ass." I snarled.
I can't see, but I have something similar to h
Facebook Friends: Chaptor 2Elise cried herself to sleep that night, in a state of shame and fear. She was afraid that her parents would no longer treat her the same way. That was a valid fear, because of how the responded. Her younger sister was concerned rather than disgusted. She feared for her sister's soul. That morning Elise felt disgusted with herself. No one spoke kindly or gently to her, they all sort of ignored her. Her parents were ashamed, but rather than directly attacking her, they quarreled amongst themselves. It was as if they blamed each other for their daughters sexuality. After eating breakfast, she and her sister went to school. On the way to her high school she sat in the back of the bus to avoid anyone who wanted to mistreat her. She could trust no one, because almost everyone knew what she was.
She made the biggest mistake of her life telling people about this. When the bus made it's way to her school, the real teasing began. All of it was from people she knew, they all had something terrib
ExplosionsHis eyes met mine through the crowd. It was electric; like I had looked into his eyes and jumped off a cliff. Their hazel depths swallowed me whole, and time seemed to stand still. The people around us disappeared, and we were alone. It was just me and him, him and me. We walked towards each other, slowly, but ever faster. We collided together, a shower of wonderful fireworks.
His fingers ran through my hair, and it was like multi colored sparks raining down from the sky. His touch was warm, unlike everyone else's icy cold skin. It was making me melt, breaking down the wall around my heart. My mask was crumbling, slipping off, and I didn't care. I wanted to melt; wanted to dissolve and become a part of him, to feel for the first time.
Our lips touched, and the world exploded. It was like an earthquake and a thunderstorm and a tsunami happening at once. Time sped up, and the people bustling by became streaks on the canvas of our kiss. Magenta and crimson and ruby d
The Tales of Shadia: Chapter 1Chapter 1: An Unnatural Day
An alarm was blaring in the background. With a quiet grunt, the boy slammed his hand on the snooze button on his clock. All was silent in his room, except the yawn the boy was trying to stifle. He draws his covers from over his body and slowly drags his legs over the edge of his bed. Upon putting his feet on the ground, he feels the clothes he took off last night. Looking around the room, he finds piles all over the room of his dirty shirts, jeans, skivvies, and socks. School paperwork was thrown all around his room, books in disarray. His desk was covered by crumpled up notebook paper, his wastebasket overflowing with the same kind of paper. 'I seriously need to clean my room sometime,'
Finally getting over the sight of his dirty room, he pushes himself off of the bed and slowly shuffles over to his dresser. He lazily looks through all of his drawers, only finding a dull red shirt, a pair of faded black jeans and a pair of stained socks. Ig
Let's Play Pretend"Let's play pretend!" The voice begs me.
"No... I don't wanna anymore!" My 4 year old self begs to her.
"But it's the only way you'll be loved!" She hisses inside my head.
That haunting voice of a little girl...
I'm walking alone down a barren road to get to school. 9 miles, uphill, both ways as my dad would say. Not the best idea to walk alone, but there's nobody down my street that would even care if I was abducted. My parents, maybe, but that's to a certain extent. Besides... I'm not completely alone, unwelcome or not, she's here with me.
"Let's play pretend!" She begs me again, her voice swirling around me.
"No!" I yell in my mind, shaking her words away with a jerk of my head.
"Why? Oh... I see..." She says, making an appearance for the first time. I finally see what she really looks like.
A truly gorgeous little girl with long bone-straight black hair, glowing green eyes, pale skin as white as a sheet, and a white dress, flowing around her little body as if it were ali
10,429 days UNOFFICIALP R O L O U G U E
Everything is shrinking, and you have every idea why.
Fall is quickly approaching. Leaves are dropping onto the ground, turning the concrete back into earthly hues of brown and red. sloshing leaves around your feet, you open the front gates of your home, to find that it's 0.34 inches shorter than it should be. Your petite waist bumps against the rusted lock purposely- it's the first time you've been able to do that. Satisfied, you half-waltz into the door, or rather stumbling along with your bags of equipment. At least there was nothing in the driveway you could bump into.
Inside, there is no stereo sound. Not a whiff of your mother's bean soup, not a rattatattap of your father's typewriter. There's only the sound of wind drifting through the open kitchen window, but even the force of nature was half-heartedly blowing around the hot air.
Entering your living room you discover a lot of new things-
1. There are actual wads of cash on the counter.
2. You find out why you
The ExiledJanuary 5th 2021, 15:56
The test failed again.
We are still not sure as to why, it should have worked. The modifications we made to the chamber should have ensured that. For some reason it just won't stay stable. I'm going to try calibrating the chamber to a varying resonance. That
"I'm sorry but the rest of the log is too badly damaged, I tried to fix it but the data has been lost." Helen said over the com channel.
"Is that all that was left in the database?" James asked her.
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"So who had time to wipe it, and why did they leave some of that last log?"
"What?" He was shocked by this answer, he couldn't believe that it could have been wiped without a human or machine doing it, nowadays hard drives were so well protected that it would take the radiation from a supernova to wipe one accidentally.
"The data was wiped by what appears to be a spatial pulse. Most of the data was wiped clean e
Swallowing pills to push them away, but they never go. Not completely. They lurk in the shadows, sleeping inside her head, but she knows they will wake. And they'll be angry. They'll want to know why she stopped talking to them for so long.
She doesn't know why. They are always so nice to her.
Now and again, she thinks about letting them come back. Why shouldn't they? People tell her not to, tell her to take the pills or else. She doesn't tell them anything.
She doesn't tell them when she starts dropping the pills down the sink every morning.
She doesn't tell them because she doesn't need them. Not now her friends have welcomed her back again.
Simon Says Go Off YourselfThere's a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. Blackstone. Cheap. I know it's cheap because it gave my dad nausea last night. Cheap wine does that to him. Why he drank it, I don't know. He's such a dumbass sometimes.
Lindsay, his new fiancée, sits on the couch behind the coffee table in her black nightgown, a lit cigarette between her fingers. She's not supposed to smoke in here. It's bad for my asthma. It's also against regulations. But of course, she doesn't care.
She passes awkward glances at me between each hit. I stand in the threshold to the front room, my arms folded, staring down at her, not knowing what to say or do. There's no school today and Dad's at work, so it's just me and her.
It occurs to me as I stand there that this is the first time she and I have been completely alone. We've been the only two people in a room while Dad was somewhere nearby, but we've never been alone like this, with Dad gone and only each other for company.
My stomach flutters. I f
Drunkards and MonstersThe phone rang again.
Paul didn't bother to look at the display. No use either way.
With a sigh he ran his big hands through his sticky brown hair. It might've been days, weeks, since he had last showered. On the other hand, what did he have to shower for?
As he turned off the buzzing TV he caught a glimpse of his reflection on the black screen.
When had he become that old?
Paul cursed under his breath.
No use either way.
The sofa creaked alarmingly as he picked himself up from it. From behind the blinds streaks of grey sunlight whispered into the room, seeping through the brown tinted glass of the many liquor bottles that were scattered on the table.
Paul scratched his growing beard while staring about.
"Laundry...", he husked to himself.
Nothing seemed to go well for him today. Bloody hell, did it ever?
His tired gaze found the pants he had worn just that morning. He had smashed them there when he had seen the stain upset not about the stain, but about his last clean pants bei
Odyssey Project II Chapter 1It wasn't until later, in his room, that Paul found the little vomit stain on his trousers. He regarded it with a little bit of surprise, having not noticed that the red-haired man had vomited at all. He'd been watching the whole time and nothing had come from the man's mouth as he had lain upon Paul.
Paul supposed he ought to not care, so he stripped off his trousers and put on a fresh khaki pair that he actually rather liked. As a rule, he'd never liked khaki, feeling that it made him seem to be more middle-aged than he really was. He was thirty, by God! In the prime of his life! Isn't that what they always said?
It was only as he was slipping them on that he noticed there was a small mark on his leg. The color was similar to that of the vomit. That is, it was a pale green, like jade, with tiny flecks of red and forest green. It then occurred to him that it hadn't really looked like vomit at all. In fact, it didn't.
He took a wet cloth, assuming that the vomit had soaked through his
CrostroseIn a remote region of a forgotten land, the Crostrose Temple stands as a symbol of tranquility and help. The injured were cared for without cost, those without shelter were freely given it, and for those who could not afford to support their children a good home was created. The Crostrose Temple stood as a place of help for all.:thumb333111901:
Many in the forgotten land could not afford to feed a growing son, and the temple acted as an orphanage for these boys. When they turned sixteen they were faced with a choice: Make their own way in the world or take the vow of silence as the last step to become a monk. Most chose to make their own way in the world.
The boys all went through the steps of becoming a monk, except the vow. In this way, they were given a choice when they were of age. Each boy was told how they came to the temple when they were sixteen, and each made their choice of how to proceed in their life.
Each boy save one.
Jaren had been born in the temple and had lived all his life within it
Sky DiveSky Dive:thumb334124699:
Falling from the edge of space towards the fluffy clouds that are beneath me and the sky is just so blue. The stars slowly fade away and the grace of space is behind me, home is ahead of me. But I don't want to go back there, I want to stay forever diving in the blue eternal sky. I want to stay here forever if possible with you there to hold my hands. I want to dive with you and never reach the ground of the civilization which is polluted by hatred. Their gray lives can never reach the beauty and grace of the blue blue sky made of dreams.
Falling upon the fluffy clouds is like falling on a soft pillow that holds your head. It's so soft and wonderful to pass through the clouds so white. And the sky is just above and under me and it won't end. I am diving forever here with you and my dreams. Nothing above us only the sun shines over and makes everything even better. The warmth of it helps us warm our already warm hearts even more. And the heat that comes from them is out
Felicity as it flutters byi. The beautiful discovery of the beginnings of a butterfly
Ella Mae is known or bullied rather, at her high school as 'Churchy'. This of course is brought about by her fairly devout Christian mannerisms and upbringing. Ella Mae is her church's choir lead and is a powerhouse vocalist in shy hiding. Her folks did her good naming her after the legendary town local, The First Lady of Song.
The day I knelt while in rejoice over seeing angels at the sound of Ella Mae's voice, was the very same one I knew I had fallen irreparably in love with her. It was that day that I had realized that Ella Mae would bring the end of me, Christopher Lee.
I started following Ella Mae around everywhere, and with my constant and relentless pursuit, she finally allowed me to become her boyfriend.
One Saturday night, after months of building trust with Ella Mae's folks, we were allowed to go out for dinner and a dance. That night was the first time I spotted, by accident, a few butterflies by her side. Ella Mae
"You girls need a ride?"
October looked up, letting her eyes stray from the gravel beneath her feet. She had been walking along the highway for so long she had started counting her steps to pass the time, hoping that when she finally looked up she would see civilization. Abigail ran to the truck driver's passenger door, haphazardly pushing past October as if she had never ridden in a vehicle before.
October glared at the driver's soiled clothes, greasy hair, and crooked teeth. She imagined his smell which made her gag uncontrollably. It was as if his unkemptness was setting off red flags in her head: "Never talk to strangers. And never accept rides from hillbilly truck drivers in the middle of nowhere."
"Where are you headed?" Abigail questioned playfully. Even though she was a few years older than October, it seemed to make her more reckless than wise. Before the driver had the chance to wheeze whatever location in Kansas he was headed to, October yanked the sultry temptress to
CoffeeWhen I was little
I saw a man in a café
Dressed all in blue.
He had coffee skin that matched his drink.
Which is peach like the color.)
He didn't have any money
(I didn't want to be broke like him but I had no idea.)
But he got the coffees for free 'cause he "worked there sometimes as a custodian" he said.
He smiled a lot.
(Just like me.)
When he smiled
His face folded up
Along the tiny crinkles
And creases and lines and pleats and stitches
Called wrinkles that held his face together.
A guy with tea not coffee told him a joke
(That I didn't get back then but now I do.)
And he smiled and his cheeks folded up into the caffeine that held his head on its neck.
That blue man,
He's the folding man
And the origami man
And sometimes the cleaning man
But that day he was the coffee man.
Halloween BashFairy Tail Fanfic
"What? A Halloween party?"
Lucy turned in surprise and looked at the flyer in Natsu's eager hand.
Once again the fire dragon slayer had shown up at her house without a knock, or an invitation. She went through her usual routine of kicking him in the face demanding he get out, and then as usual a little blue cat with wings made one of his snide remarks.
Then once things calmed down Natsu excitedly showed her a poster that had previously been hanging on the job request board, even though it wasn't a job. The flyer announced that Fairy Tail would be hosting a party for Halloween this year. Everyone was expected to wear costumes and the best costume would receive a 250,000 jewel prize.
"What? 250,000 jewel?!" She yanked the paper from Natsu's hand and stared at it starry eyed.
With 250,000 jewel she could pay off her rent for several months. She just had to get it. She stared off into space as she thought what she should go as.
Natsu's voice broke into her thoughts
LastThe hollow sound of metal scraping metal echoed through the empty hallways. It resounded in the countless ducts and wires that crawled to and fro in the sinister darkness.
The smell of rotting rats and cockroaches floated above the ground like a grey veil. Now and then a drop of moldy water would drip into one of those clouds and break it apart, only to let it fuse together with another.
Similar to veins the hallways all connected after travelling far in all directions. They would connect and disconnect in such strange ways that they created a vast labyrinth.
Some had collapsed under the pressure of the Above and were now blocked by walls of rocks and bones.
The tunnels had once brimmed with the noises of footsteps and the loud voices of enthusiastic humans, but now all that was left was the robotic sounds of machines that kept on sweeping, hammering, fusing even after countless years of war had washed away any traces their masters left.
Alice Scene - NaNo Day 1Kelly eyed Alice as she walked down the spiral staircase. He raised an eyebrow and set the book he was reading down.
"What is that look for?"
He continued to stare at her, deciding exactly how to word what he wanted to ask.
"Come on, just spit it out already."
"Fine, what's with you and all the open front sweaters?"
Without thinking, Alice ran her hands down the teal tank top she was wearing and pulled the black sweater tight around her mid section. "There's nothing wrong with my sweaters."
"I didn't say there was, I just asked why you wear them so much. It's summer. I'd think long sleeves are a bit warm for outdoors."
Instead of defending herself, Alice went on the offensive. "What about you?"
Kelly stood and looked at his own clothes. He was wearing his favorite double vest with the checked inner layer and black outer layer. Pulling at the open collar of his short sleeve button down, he realized that the tie
Weekend LoverThere was something sweet and honest in the way I came to love him.
They were lazy, those Sundays spent beneath a window in tussled sheets. His warm, strong arms would find me somewhere around the middle. He would kiss me on the back of my neck while I sketched or wrote, and take photographs of me while I was too engaged to notice.
Or he would gently take the paper from me, placing it and the pen on the bedside table, and indulge me in other escapes from reality.
It was easy to love him.
It was easy to see his good.
It was his smile.
It was his laugh.
It was the daisies he brought me on Sunday, and the way his fingers would deftly push the hair from my face as I brought the bouquet to my face.
He told me the smile I gave in return for the flowers was a gift in and of itself. That his enti
How could you?How could you lie to me?
How could you leave me here like this?
Why was it so important to you, even when you saw it was killing me?
Did he make you do this?
Why do you listen to him more than anyone?
Don't you know how much he clouds your judgment?
When did you first realized I was in pain?
Was it when I screamed or when you saw my blood on your fingers?
What were you thinking while you watched me sobbing,bleeding in the corner?
Did you even care?
Why do you keep calling me?
To say sorry?
That you care?
Is it wrong I still love you?
Paranoid ClairvoyantI wanted it.
And I did not allow direct acknowledgement, wrestling with the idea. More than want,
more like need. And the absurdity of it! Why should I feel this craving,
this magnetic necessity?
He was more than I had ever allowed myself to hope for. And maybe he wasn't exactly angelic, but something within him was untouched, tucked safely away from the world.
Sometimes I could see it; this stability, this utter sureness. And as I hoped for something else, any other explanation, I saw him struggling, trying not to let it touch his eyes. He'd always been ready to leave.
My heart swelled past a unmanageable volume.
stripped of value.
kissed on forehead
"hey, you're beautiful"
And hey, I wanted it, right?
Scavengers - Chapter One: Curious GathererThe skies were grey; no sunlight broke through the everlasting layers that enveloped the world. Lower clouds were carried swiftly toward the dark horizon by the strong winds that tore across the plants face. These winds burst through the relics of the human race houses that had collapsed, emptied streets, now inhabited by wild flora.
The only sound that echoed over the wasteland was a loud metallic clatter. It came from one of the many junk hills that were scattered about the endless wasteland. It came from the only living creature visible within the used up gadgets, tools, cars and other technological innovations that humans praised so much it came from a girl. And she cared little about the sound she made.
With a long iron rod that looked similar to both a thin pipe and a crowbar she poked around in the pile of rusting metal and brunt plastic. The rod had two arms at the top, one being a sharp blade, the other a lamp which light was of a poisonous green. Dangling from t
Tribute to MemoryThe old woman next door played her depressing version of Happy Birthday to You on her piano again, and Lisa couldn’t study.
The music wasn’t loud, but it seeped through into her apartment with its slow pace and low notes and bothered her, even though it was ignorable and she was comfortable in good company.
“There she goes again with the sleepy music.” Mark placed his Calculus book on the coffee table, leant back into the couch, and yawned. “What’s this, the eighth time this year?”
“The first time,” Lisa said. “And how’s it sleepy music?”
“It’s making me drowsy.”
“I think it’s sad.” Lisa stretched against her boyfriend and closed her eyes. She thought of her own mother, grey and unhappy when she last saw her, and now gone. “I think she’s sad. Doesn’t she always play it like this around this time?”
“I think so,” he said. “And if she
So Far Gone: Everything Happens for a ReasonDeath. That is it. What is the purpose to life? To struggle with sanity, hanging over a cliff like a daring, young, mountain goat, curious as to what lies over the ridge? Why do we struggle? Why do we fight? Why do we kill just to satisfy our wants? Why do we even continue when hope is all but lost? Death is the sweetest word to he who lives.
I cringed, huddled in behind a dumpster in a dark and dank alley. My tangled and disorderly hair is plastered to my moist head that sits on my drawn up knees. There was no one around to see the scene that had just unfolded. There never was.
I slowly lifted my face, showing my dirty face to the body before me. It was obvious I was crying. I sniffed as I studied the face of the victim.
Masculine. Healthy. Muscular. Young.
The tears overwhelmed me once more as I stared into his eyes. They were a beautiful green with hints of blue dancing like an open flame around he silent green.
My gaze moves to my hands that hug my legs. I remove them and stare int
You're not here,
a smile can not reach you anymore
and I feel like a puzzle piece that lost his puzzle
You're not here,
you are far away of my apprehensive and gentle touch
and I feel as if delicate hands had dug a black hole in my chest
I feel as if the stars were seeping through it
You're not here,
you no longer can hear my sweet and sincere words
and I feel as if my heart had been muted
You're not here,
so I feel unnecessary
Jail Break From The PagesDear Diary: Bleed her from the pages
Medusa stays gawking in
the corner of her rocky
She's shooting her rebellion
The hue of my favorite photo of us that I keep by my nightstand
The dominant shade in your irises & beauty mark at the lower left corner of your mouth
The ink tone I've used to fill countless pages with poetry about you, about us
The echo of every hello and goodbye that resonates within the walls of my heart
The cacophony in my gut wrecking my towering pride, in exchange for your builder's arms, every time
The timbre of your voice promising to be the first and last thing I'll be hearing til my heart stops beating
The bittersweet cocoa kisses and tangy citrus grins that only the two of us will remember
The blandness of my tears on your petal tongue as you reach mine, planting my feet firmly on your good earth
The savory taste of our palms and our navels whenever the warmth of our beings meet
The downy feel of your old corduroy pants that you wore on our fourth date and first kiss
The smoothness of the milk and molasses blending in our morning coffees and afternoon teas
ConceitedI don't even know where to start
So I just cut open my heart
Throw it at your head like a dart
I'm so conceited so im gonna talk about myself
I've had a life
I've had a wife
And I've had a daughter
I'm only twenty years old and I'm an old man
But I lost my life
So I gotta make a new one
It's like I was reborn
I got a brand new set of horns
And a giant thorn
I got a new soul, I mean I'm soulless
I sold it for everything I ever wanted
But I only ever got the building blocks
And they all crumbled to the touch
My life was never easy
I wish I could get things done like its sleazy
But nigga I think I'm to lazy
Maybe I smoke too much bud
Stay too hazy
Always faded because I can't handle
It makes me sad
The life I could of had
But I'm a lying lion
And I'll burn the herb til I fall asleep and burn the house down
Got a frown on my face but I don't give a shit
Move on and smoke another l
Pop a couple pills
Get some easy thrills
Put on the bass that kills
If I can't hear you the volume is not high
ComplicateToo often in our lives
We complicate things,
Cluttering our minds and hearts
With useless worries and fears.
Instead of drinking in the Summer sun
Or becoming mesmerized by your coffee,
You worry about getting sunburnt
And consuming too much caffeine.
We forget to take pleasure
In a simple hello and goodbye;
A smile shared, an "I love you",
A hug given for no reason.
We analyse every look and smile
Since each syllable means something;
Even a tiny thing such as an emoticon
Has a deeper meaning these days.
A simple "how are you" or "why"
Can be seen as offensive,
As too intrusive, as nosy,
Too demanding and suspicious.
Just talking to someone of the opposite gender
For more than a few minutes
Will have people automatically assuming
The two of you are in a relationship.
Instead of enjoying the music,
We criticize the lyrics, discuss the tune,
Making the song so technical,
Sucking it dry of any emotion.
Just sitting alone on your bed
Listening to "Florence and the Machine"
Is an effective
The DifferenceIf a friend picks a side you don't agree on,
Does it make a difference to argue?
If a person bashes something you love,
Does it make a difference to yell?
If the world was ending right before your eyes,
Does it make a difference to run?
If you think reading this would change an opinion,
Does it make a difference?
AutumnThe dried out dead leaves
Vain trees have abandoned them
Outcasts and lonely
relearn.reach out, palms down,
fingernails catching moonlight
and watch your hands shake.
bury the nightmares you keep replaying in a black shroud
and tie them down with rusted chains.
breathe in the voices in the back of your head and lay them to rest alonside the
truth(lies) and dirty words they whisper(shout) to you.
let the memories scritch-scratch in your bones,
but neverever try and scritch-scratch them out.
reset you break-bone addictions and pick out the stitches
to see if they've healed into the silvery tape worms
you'll hide with your shirt-sleeves and oversized sweaters pulled down to your knuckles.
lift your chin and upturn your face,
learn to catch happiness on your tongue and wear it under your eyelids
and trap it in your voicebox.
remember where you hid it
because depression is a dirty blanket tied up in your throat
that willingly smothers all you have to give.
so keep breathing,
hold the sun in your smile and purge your insecuriti
In The Life of a CatMoved...[ link ]
Tick-Tock (Satire for AP Language and Compostion)Oh how I love waking up every morning, at 6:30 a.m. on the dot
and then from there on till 2:45--watch the clock tick-tock.
Sitting in a class you can never pass,
answering questions in question of what's the answer,
and then failing the next day.
School is not for the smart or the dumb,
but for the uncontrolled.
...I once attended an insane asylum.
Where the mad are strapped down and are forced to "behave",
as they too watch the clock tick-tock,
just itching to break away.
Gift: Just a FamilyYou were born into a family,:thumb329332524:
Caring and respectful,
With little in the way of hardship.
You were raised in the highest of class,
Given the highest of education,
Praised to your heart's content.
You were troubled as life continued,
A family once united torn apart,
Words sharpened to daggers.
You were forced to run,
Hunted by prior family for sport,
Thrown into the gutters you made.
You were found by the kindest of men,
Not tainted by money or power,
Welcoming you in like one of their own.
You were never given a reason to smile,
Never given a reason to hope,
Until you met the ones you cast aside.
You were overjoyed the day you met,
A permanent smile adorning your face,
Walking off with the family of your dreams.
Something to SayIt seemed just yesterday
We were in the stands, alone
Laughing the day away
If we knew the future, what would we have done?
I lived for your smile every day
Trying to find it was all I could do
Those days were happy is all I can say
And in my heart, I know you believe that to
But look at you now, anything to fit in
But that's right, you don't believe in mortal sin
A suicide attempt, a trip to the asylum
The love of your life, you chased her off
Your parents sins, still your phantom?
Were all those years since just you turned-off?
Now you can only cope with aid
Any medicinal aid at all
No need for anything to be said
Once you're high, you enter into a free-fall
You highlight my failings
And project your sadness
I know your real intentions
You're just blind to my brightness
I think it's time to end
Before we go through this again
Hey, in my heart you're still a friend
I will say a prayer for you
I Wish You the BestI hope you know that I still wish you the best,
Because at one time, I put you above all the rest.
Though the communication may be gone,
I don't want it to be that way for long.
But I'll respect your wishes, give you your space,
Even though I just want to see your face.
Days turn to weeks, weeks to months,
And I haven't seen you, not even once.
How could we spend these years together,
For you to say that you want to see me...never.
I was your first, and I wanted to be your last,
But alas, everything is now a thing of the past.
Now there's nothing left for me here,
And the time I sign my life away grows near.
I keep a smile on my face,
And try not to retrace...
Reflecting on the memories that we once shared,
And the times that we both cared.
But underneath the facade I feel like I'm dying,
And in the inside I can't stop crying.
I forgot how it feels to be alone,
Reminded by my heart losing it's home.
I have no option except to stay strong,
But it's hard when we can't right what was wron
Why I Hate My LifeWhy I Hate My Life:
Despite the fact that I'm a trained professional
I have to work odd-jobs making deliveries on a motorcycle
The only girl who I ever loved
was just using me as a replacement
The only girl that actually likes me
runs a bar and took over my house
I don't have the guts to kick her out
so I end up sleeping at an abandoned church
I've recently picked up a strange rash
it hurts and I have to wear sleeves to cover it
My only friends are a guy that never comes out from a forest
and a girl that's always looking to steal the meager possessions I have
Everything sucks really
because the one person who cared about me
is already dead...
He was my army buddy, always cool, always the best
I visit his grave sometimes, in the middle of long deliveries
The worst part about everything though
is the fact that the one guy who made my life hell
The one guy who took everything important away from me
just came back to town a few minutes ago...
And you know what he said the moment
8There once was a little number eight,
Which took on itself to negate,
Before they finally saw the light,
It gets better now, state by state.
Thoughts Around A SunsetWill I go down like the sun?
Will I go anywhere?
Something about seeing the sun going down
makes me feel like I should feel a certain deepness;
there's just so much strength and meaning to it.
It gives me that tough love, telling me I need
to be stronger; it makes me want to break all the walls in my way;
it tells me I can but it won't be anywhere near easy, tough love again.
These are feelings and fears inside of me,
but I don't know why hard work scares as well as inspires me.
Must not have anything dishonest here right now.
I feel a change or a want for a change from
the beauty and value of this sunset;
I want it and fear it so much, but I know I want it more!
The thought of being beautiful like a sunset
inspires me and makes me nervous simultaneously,
but the fear is not huge;
I can get rid of it by thinking of the greatness of what's on the other side,
Though I can never permanently exterminate it.
What's with this fear of change anyway?
I should be afraid of staying at thi
In SilenceIt's dark by eight now.:thumb329667008:
These days are not like our days before.
Do you think that if you stay silent,
I won't exist.
If so, I can stay silent too.
Sometimes I still check to see if you've called
or left a message or something, anything.
You haven't yet.
I know you won't.
You said you'd never hurt me
and when you left, I told Mom you hadn't,
not really,you wouldn't, not forever.
She smiled sadly.
She knew you would.
She knew you had.
She PlaysShe plays the piano
Just like an angel
Taking strides of her own
With folded wings
Clasped about her skin
As fingers intertwine
And hands do not rest,
But instead move
Across the keys
Unlocking the doors
Of a child's heart
As she sways
Into the Movements
Of a woman
The intensity of
Eyes permeates the air
Even as they are
To the stepping stones
Where raindrops wept
A million tears
That spanned across
And forever flow
No matter how torrent
She eases into that
As her vessel
Until the door is closed
And the song has
Ended, and an easy
Voice, is able to
Exactly what was seen
What was meant
In the Depths
Of her Ocean.
Life Seems DistortedI dreamed in colours of Europe,
Drank concrete with the snow
Tasted April on my tongue
Heard the narcissus glow
[There's a chemical equation behind my eyes]
I smoked cigars made of tea
Taught a cloud how to write
Ate paperbacks on Cadillac convectors
Watched the sun all through the night
[Beatific starlight in the heat of a Bunsen burner]
I Laughed electric sparks
Ambled barefoot on comets
Stained coffee with music
Smelt brilliant, neon minutes
[Axioms atrophying colloquially with credulous scrutiny]
In these dreams ever breaking,
There's a love just awaking
Exhaling The SkySittin here puffin on that loud loud:thumb330130892:
Yes that loud, super loud baby
Get in the whip, it be that cloud baby
Heavy puffin, car lookin like its filled with stuffin
Shit mamma you growin a garden
While I'm exhaling and growing the sky
I'm not gonna lie
I'm super high
Purple and green
I am a fiend
Got a nigga on lean
Whilin out like charlie sheen
Bitches love it when I'm mean
Probably got all my friends cause they fiends
But thats life
Go get a wife
Nah scratch that go get a new life
Shit son I am the sun and under me you'll have fun
I got dreads and yall think I'm a hippy
It's probably true
Cause I'm never blue
And I love nature, I'm always on that green
I hate to spill out the exhaust, but I gotta let the clouds grow
So in love with nature I'm eating her little nipples off the forest floor
Tripping like the trees turning into a corridor
Walking straight into the ocean
But it was a glass door
And It was only an hour past four
We got nothing to do besides put the pedal to the fl
HarbingerFrom beyond a space where time is still,
Rises a monster who wields a murderous will.
Crimson cuts of corruption line it's carapace,
Yielding imperial eyes on a merciless face,
Engines erupt to herald the harbinger's haste.
From beyond a silence where life is dead,
Moves a deity who haunts a ponderous head.
Purple parts of penetration mark it's form,
Daunting funereal cries by a tactless storm,
Circuits corrode to hail the harbinger's harm.
From beyond a sorrow where joy is lost,
Roams a terror who obeys a wonderous ghost.
Black bolts of beatification hold it's sword,
Slaying mercurial lies to a reckless word,
Diodes deduce to hark the harbinger's horde.
Suicide On Your LipsI tried so hard to pull away
At the end of the night when we kissed
But as you begged me once again to stay
I could taste suicide on your lips
And such an intoxicating fragrance
Far removed from the stench of death
Such a beautiful perfume of life
Of a lost girl hollow from neglect
Am I too late to save her my Lord
Will those lips ever smile again
When razorblade remedies are scarring
Her beautiful porcelain skin
You spoke of your sorrows till midnight
Then you slept in my arms until dawn
Awoke and cried tears until midday
For your past and your present you mourned
And when the last tear finally fell
I explained I'd never leave your side
Heartfelt words alone wouldn't do
I painted our future with pride
Together we created a masterpiece
A magnum opus beyond compare
I now kiss those lips on a basis daily
The taste of suicide is no longer there
Don't you See?Paint her face with kisses and use her as you will. Forget her cries and strangle her with rope.
Blindfold her, love, so you don't have to see.
(Shh, dear, it will all be okay soon)
Sew her mouth shut and dress her how you want. They aren't tears falling from her eyes or blood seeping from wounds...that's not possible.
She holds no dreams and needs no love. She has no heart, dear, so please, do with her as you want.
She's your creation, your perfect little angel. She must have no wrong. Clean the blood, wipe the teas...pretend they were never there.
Dolls are empty, you see.
To you.I don't understand this feeling
A swell in my chest
As you tell me I'm everything to you
It's odd to be in love
We've been so uneasy
Like a child's first steps
We fall often
Was something that was hard for me
But you being you
Taught me so much
Your goodness rubbed off on me
But I've never had someone with such
Unwavering faith in me
I uncertainly accept your forever
Because I never know what to make of such vague terms
I love you is so easy to say
And so hard to mean
Or is it so hard and mean?
I love you.
4:23 A.M.The nights are long :thumb330959128::thumb330768193:
when they are ever so dark.
As I have found to be
since my Star left me
and always after.
When the nights are dark
so are my dreams.
Ever when my Star left me
I could't sleep.
For I could't dream.
So I sought comfort in my wine.
To light my sorrows
and give me sleep.
To do as my Star once did.
Sleep I was granted.
Yet my dreams were still far from me.
was all that my dearest Evening Star left for me
As he ran away with my dreams.
And after I would cry, and for my dear Star.
Crying myself to sleep,
at 4:23 a.m.
I would sleep
to a dream of joyous thing that were to be.
Only to wake searching for my
Forever gone Evening Star.
Yet I remind myself that I
am not so unlucky.
For I have lost my Evening Star,
but at 4:23 a.m.
I am reminded that he is not completely gone
But reborn as My Morning Star.
And oh how beautiful is the morning light,
I play your part
and you play mine,
We dissolve in each other
like a rhythm divine
You be in my heart
and i be in your mind
I be yours and
you be mine.
you smelled like snowmy heart is a thing i wrote out
on the back of your hand, one night,
in ballpoint pen,
while you were sleeping soundly,
milky white and deep blue and wrapped in my love;
in the dark,
i closed my eyes and breathed your being's poetry,
filled with nirvana.
My Story of FallingThey caught me off guard,
My façade was down,
There was nothing I could say,
That would change what they thought.
They knew now,
They knew how I felt,
It was plastered on my face,
Mixed with pure insanity.
It all happened so quickly,
They sent me away,
Hoping I might change,
But they knew,
They knew I wouldn't,
It was too late,
I had already lost it,
So I became one of them,
The people I once despised,
I joined them,
I watched as we drained the colour,
Turning everything to our perfection.
I saw more people changed,
Their eyes so dull,
So this is me now,
One of them.
This is my story,
This is how I fell.
Performance I sit in one of the open seats next to my friend. I look down the arced row, I'm the tenth person to perform. We all are seated in front of the keyboard where each student goes up and perform the song we all practice alone. The problem is- we only practice for our ears but we perform in front of people who we are afraid to receive judgement from. No one practice for this, no one but the teacher and the advanced students. They are the students who know how to play before they ever took this class. I am secretly one of them, but I decided to go at the pace of everyone else...just for their sake. The teacher performs first for fun, but to me it just makes everyone more anxious. As she finishes there are nervous claps in the audience. The first student gets up, and after that it repeats. One gets up, performs and sits back down as the other goes up and performs. It makes my heart beat faster, my fingers cramp up and I look at the piece I am about to play. I look at the notes and lightly
There is a day comingSeptember 13, 2012
There is a day coming. A day we must all face in our own way and in our own time. A day that someone we love will leave this earth. A day that he will no longer be here to turn to when we need advice. A day that his laughter or silly jokes will no longer fill the room. We are told he has a year to live. When we were children, a year seemed like a long time. Like too long to wait for something we really looked forward to. We couldn’t wait to be a year older, an inch taller, a grade higher or a step closer to that next milestone in life… But this is a year that we do not want to happen. This is a year that each day will pass begrudgingly as we watch this hour glass run out, as we watch each moment we have left with him blow out the window... This is the year that Hope is no longer in our vocabulary and there are no more straws to grasp at.
Many people have their own ways of coping; some people have no ways of coping at all. This is my way... living it out
Potato ChipsThe other day I finally realized, as I was going to the pantry for a snack, that my mind tortures me; I stared at the plastic film as the light bounced off of it and played with the shine of the colors. The shades all communicating with each other, hints of apologies and gestures, tales of beration and derogatory statements. Red was the primary color. It was a dark, ground-like red. Hot, haughty, gawking at the other colors, flaunting its vibrant steadiness, all the while consuming the shallow shyness of black as it creeped around the edges, trying to make itself noticed, but only succeeding in making red even more vivacious. The yellow was round and bold, but not quite as bold as the red. It knew its place, and its limits, and this knowledge inevitably kept it in its shape. The white complimented it, being more friendly than the red and more outgoing than the black. It swirled and dipped around the yellow, flirting with its curves as it turned and pivoted in and out of vision. All of
The ArmchairSitting in my one seated couch with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off, silence rebounds off the walls as I drink to find the bottom of the bottle again and add it to the collection stood next to me. This seat has found me in many different forms of this state, but it's always been the one state. This couch is the couch that has a perfectly moulded print of my thighs and arse embedded into the cushion.
When I lock myself away in the imaginary vault of the four feet and two arms, I have a chance to reflect in the state I've ended up in, I can set things straight in my mind and resolve questions through drinking and quietness. The only thing I can't answer is how to stop this addiction of alcohol I have. For since I can remember drinking, it's been the answer to the main problem of feeling down and depressed since it makes me feel numb quicker than the serotonin that gets pumped through my veins from the neurotransmitters of my brain. I can feel it work its way from my mouth
Does an Artist Have to Play the Popularity Game?You, as an artist, might think that exposure follows artistic success. But now I believe that artistic success follow exposure. Here is a short story illustrating this fickle process:
Daviantart Michael creates art that borders on genius. After a while Michael comes down from his artistic "in the zone" mania (he loves the feeling, feels like he's high) and collapses asleep onto a pink sofa. Next morning (if ten o'clock is morning) he sips espresso and checks his inbox: 2, maybe 3 favs.
The caffeine hits Michael's bloodstream just as the disappointing realization sags over his head like a storm cloud. Why don't they see what I did here! Can't they see how this is really something?
Michael thinks about this the whole day. Then he realizes that success precedes exposure so he adds over 9000 groups to all his submissions and now receives a continuous flush of favs and comments as reliable as OLD FAITHFUL GEYSER, YELLOWSTONE PARK 82190, WY.
NO RETURN ADDRESS! (stamps are too e
BulimiaI put my head up,looked at the mirror.
"Look at you",I said.
"Your eyes are red of crying,
Your face blushed of pain,
You have a scar on your hand,
Thanks to your teeth".
I really tried to be perfect,mama,
I really am trying.
Why do I keep hurting the ones I love?
And my heart is beating fast.
I think I am gonna fall.
Catch me,darling,don't disappoint me.
I need the smell of your skin on me now.
I love you.
My thoughts are lost in the paths of their perfection.
I am a stranger there.
And I was still looking at the mirror.
Talking to myself.
Staring at my own bulimic reflection.
"Look at you!You are beautiful even when you cry!".