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Suggested by: saevuswinds
Featured by: TwilightPoetess
Map to Creativity's CoveStart in a life raft
to escape self-doubt’s screeching sirens.
Glide through your mind’s current.
Lift and sink oars into waves
until you dip deep enough.
You will bob up
the brackish scent of brine
filling your nostrils.
Dehydration will force you to drink it in.
Sip sea water until
salt stings each taste bud
saliva dribbling with saline as you try
Spew out what’s left in a shower of spit
and keep going.
Waves will lick your boat
until it’s soaked enough to swallow
and as your lifeline succumbs to the slam of the sea
you will be alone.
to tread the water of your mind
because you know the hours lurk like piranha,
snapping at bare ankles.
Kick your legs.
Paddle until your muscles ache.
Bits of shells will stab your skin.
Sopping soil will clump on your knees.
But know that the pain of sand grains under nails
just means you’ve finally reached the shore.
Suggested by: Naktarra
Featured by: chromeantennae
Sexone time at school
I was dancing down the hall,
and I was telling a friend of mine
about how virginity is not a flower,
but rather it is an orchard, bearing fruit
ripe enough to entice Eve
and as our mouths began to water a teacher stopped me
and told me that the words I spoke
were a sin to school halls,
and I told her that the true sin
was a teaching about how Christopher Columbus
a rapist and a murderer
was depicted as some sort of savior of
And of course that could not be so
what with moral absolutism
a rapist could not be a Messiah
a rapist could not be a hero and the teacher just looked at me,
"isn't it just sex?
The Red RoomIt was the custom to hold seances in the parlour – a delightfully old-fashioned room full of blood-red, velvet antimacassars, cushion covers and curtains, as could usually be viewed in some sort of Victorian museum. The red contrasted with the pale faces of six people clustered round the largish square table (its legs draped with the same red velvet, to preserve its modesty, as was the custom of the aforementioned era). Yet this was 2014.
Perhaps the ambience was important; the darkened room and candles added to it, as did the fear on the faces of those present waiting to contact someone from ‘beyond’. Expectation added to it even more, for six of those present had sat in similar seances. Yet there was a seventh, one who was a disbeliever. Why was she here then? Lottie thought it a huge joke and basically was curious as to how these things were conducted – she was just fifteen and had begged her aunt to be allowed to join in the ‘fun
Haunting and a great lesson.
Featured by: Naktarra
RomanticizingShe approached him as he sat on the bed. Her knee pushed into the plush foam, sagged due to the abuse of over use. Her digits entwined as her elbows rested on his shoulders. The pressure sunk him into the doughy mattress.
“Romanticizing are we?”
His lips were parted; his eyes stared blankly at the cold wall. It was a cold blank wall, no paint ever applied to peel away, no picture ever hung to be taken off. It took a moment for his lips to connect, for him to clear his throat and mind, and reply.
“Not really… just wondering about the possibilities of where we could be…”
Her arms slid forward as her hands pressed gently into his chest, feeling each heave, each tingle that his body had to offer. However there wasn’t much to offer. He was calm, composed; his breaths left her hands to satisfy themselves with the bare minimum. But bare minimum was what they had always had.
“Isn’t that what we call romanticizing?” She chuckled as now
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Prepared by: TwilightPoetess
Don't pity meYou see my face
hear my voice
how strong they are
It’s good you don’t see
the real face of me
the one I try to hide
deep down in those lies
they’re not worth it
but I see you noticed it
noticed the fake inside my words
noticed the wrongs inside my smiles
noticed the simulations in my actions
But only a bit
Just a teeny tiny bit
And that is good
Because I won’t ever bother someone with those little things.
And even if you think
they’re more than just little ones
don’t come to me thinking you’re superior
thinking you understand
thinking you can help
thinking you have to feel sorry for me
Don’t look at me with those sad eyes
don’t hug me like I would cry in your arms
don’t talk with me with this soft voice
don’t say you feel sorry and try to encourage me
Because even if I was just an actress
playing this show
this show of fake well-being
I AM strong
I AM confident
I AM i