chronophobia_c.the sky is dark and the ground is falling and you're holding my hand and asking me why my nerves are trembling in the middle of my palms. you're wondering at the quakes in my lips and the tsunamis breaking on the edges of my fingernails as they rack against your skeleton. you're pressing the curling edges of my pages together, straightening the spine of my molting book as i do my best to unravel at your feet. you're holding me close and whispering into my neck, asking me why i am afraid. asking me why i tremble and jerk like a bass caught on a line. asking me why the sun is reflected and lost in the whites of my anxious eyes. and my answer will come like the end of the world, whimpered into the sharp blades of your shoulder, rising and crashing as i tell you that which i fear most: time.chronophobia_c.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I can tell by the way your hackles rise and you dig your toes into the sands as the hands on the clock begin to close in on another midnight separation, that just a little is just too much and
stuck in transit.Time bends and snaps the spine of reality between its hands.stuck in transit.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Desires bleed like the ink you've left smudged and faded on my hips. The room is empty without your breath to swell the walls; my bed is cold without the warmth filtering through your pores. The clock is manipulated and broken, the ticks becoming distorted screams, the silences becoming gasping moans. Sleep flutters behind eyelids and drags at the exhausted mind until I am writhing under the sheets that smell like you, nails biting my scalp, body contorted against the pressure you kept at bay.
My memory sinks and anchors on the same parts:
The honey of your tongue and the heat of your sleepy lips against the back of my neck. Your palms following the nerves radiating under my skin until they quieted and fled. Soapy shoulders and sticky, peanut butter kisses. Murmured Whitman as we sprawled on bench swings and echoed songs as we shot down back roads isolated in sound.
Memories drag me down and pull me up, wring me dr
second-chance renewal.i can't guarantee i'll be what you want.second-chance renewal.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you see, i can only offer you the remaining fractures of a weathered, storm-bruised heart in trembling palms; can only pour the relics into the crevices of your chest. i can only offer you the ruins: tangled and mismatched and soggy from salt-rain. can only give you the junk drawer, the elbows and broken bits no one wanted: the jealousy and anxiety and selfishness and impatience and insecurity. i can only give you these, wrapped in newspaper-covered cardboard boxes, no satin ribbon dressing them up as something they're not.
oh, and you deserve so much more! what i have left rotting isn't enough and it never will be, but, oh, i would give it to you if you asked. i would reach lacerated hands towards my marrow-locks and tear them apart. i'd give you the right combination of numbers and twists and turns so you might undo the not-so-treasure-chest. i'd let you take the choking corpse of my trust and let you try to reanimate it. i'd sell m
1 This is Acheron, Arachne, and alulae;17 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
charon navigates your veins, your annals, your bloodchambers, your stems and streams. he loses his river-drawing pole in your waters, and afterwards he closes his eyes and pretends that his arms could unpaint the stillness, could remove the ripples, pretends that he could bend down and over and pretends his cock could pierce the water and pretends he could let loose and the entire world of you could be poised
2. THESE ARE MERELY LYRICS, and I hope your eyes, your soul,
I hope your hands, your lid-fingers, your dream-nails, your
blinking outpouring palms can craft a tune for them to rest on,
(but there are so many notes
3. "I know about you."
I could not help you along. My tongue could do nothing. Pray, Sister Mary, pray, in your white-cloth robe. Change your n
trying it forwardsLINK PROVIDED IN ARTIST'S COMMENTStrying it forwards7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Edward Scissorhands FanfictionEdward Scissorhands Fanfiction9 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
It was one of those cold winter nights, light white flakes of snow falling lovingly onto the window, looking within at the mother and daughter in front of their fireplace.
The flakes clung to the windowpane listening to the story being told; a wonderful tale of the scissorhanded man who was the most kind and gentle of men.
Just as the snowflake begun to melt, it couldnt move, intent on hearing about the adventures he had with the mother, whose eyes seemed forever seemed forever teeming with tears.
Finally just as the tiny flake became nothing but a drop of water sliding down the pane it would be able to glisten hearing about the mother speak of how she celebrated the scissorhanded mans memory-Edwards memory by dancing in the snow every year, just for him.
The young girl inside, never stopped listening to her mothers stories, even as she grew old enough to stop listening to them with dedication.
This girl, Sage seemed to have more of a fondness for Edward then he
show me the inglorious truth.With the beginning tied to the end, I finally understand: there is nothing easy about this.show me the inglorious truth.6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
So many rest on their laurels of Love and proclaim it to be a fall, a drift, autumn-leaf-hearts simply riding the breeze until they kiss the ground and kneel before the oak of emotion. They describe it as an arrow of happiness, simply securing one's self to the golden bullet before being launched from point A to point B. There are no detours, no dead ends, there simply is the arrival and nothing more.
One moment one is standing on the brink of un-Love and the next second, their foot slips and they arrive at the next state of their being. There is no in-between, no middle ground. They breathe deep the change and shed their skin, embrace their new life and go forth.
Oh, but I now know different! I know Love not as a fall, or a trip, or a tumble, but rather as a beast. A savage creature with tooth and claw and hoof. An ever-changing animal to grapple with, one that stalks before it pounces, one tha
breathing hope eternal.the spaces between your ribs are just deep enough for me to fall in.breathing hope eternal.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's there i find you are the nectar of honey and the salt of the ocean, fading magnolias and withered vines. i discover you are the scent of sunshine and freedom, the simultaneous flame of desperation and redemption. you are everything my heart has ever desired, everything my dreams have ever imagined.
you are tender lips and calloused hands, poetry whispered between crooked teeth. sometimes, i imagine you sitting on the wharf with chalk smeared on your palms. i imagine you trying to capture the sunset between mortal hands, breathing life into sketches, dreaming ideas into existence.
you are beauty that is acute enough to hurt and hope bright enough to blind. the faith of the ages is woven between the fibers of your skin. you are everything i could ever be lucky enough to hold, but the truth is still curled in my lungs, reality is still trapped between my eyelashes.
i'm reaching for you, but i know, i can
The GrackleOnce upon a Twilight evening, while I pondered, plotting, scheming, over many a crappy and rough draft scattered upon the floor-- while I fretted, pencil snapping, on the wall there was a crackingThe Grackle5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Anti-Love Lettersi. for buttonsAnti-Love Letters5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and swimming in the ocean
for late nights
and later mornings
and scraped hands and knees
and for kissing them better
Love Story: Chapter 1Chapter 1Love Story: Chapter 110 years ago in General More Like This
David's gaze is drawn up from where he is sitting by a flash of startling colour. He raises his head just in time to catch a glimpse of a young girl walking behind one of the large wooden bookcases. Straining his neck he tries to peer after her, but she is gone. Re-gaining his concentration quickly David returns to and is completely immersed in his book when the young girl sits down in the small plush chair opposite him.
David jumps slightly, startled as the young girl leans forward and touches his arm. "Umm yes sorry?" He can't help but blush as his gaze crosses her figure; she is gorgeous.
The young girl also flushes slightly at his embarrassment and giggles softly "I said, do you have the time?"
"Oh yes, sorry!" David spends a few moments scrabbling at his sleeve to retrieve his watch. "It's…twenty to four."
As he looks down to put his sleeve back into place, the oddest thing happens. The young girl rocks her seat forward and the tiny wooden legs at the front snap,
What we areAnthro ArtistWhat we are8 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Anthro artists are anyone who draws anthropomorphic art. Anthro is defined as something that is essentially non-human (including inanimate objects) that has been given human characteristics, such as having an almost-human bone structure.
Furries are people who have an affinity toward the anthro style of art. Furries usually identify themselves with a fursona an anthro version of themselves. They are a fandom (like anime fans are otaku). There are many levels of the furry fandom: It extends from simply being an artist, to wearing fur-suits, and attending fur-cons. However, this is not limited to furries, it extends to scalies and avians - people who identify themselves with a winged or scaly anthro characters. It should also be noted that while the above is correct, Furry, Avian, and Scaly are just fandoms. A lot of people in the anthro community, while falling un
Little Merman - Older BrotherTitle: Older BrotherLittle Merman - Older Brother5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Main Characters: Eliot and Eric
Setting: Several years before Little Merman
Eliot was tired as hell. Which was not an expression you would ever hear coming from his lips, but it fit his current situation perfectly. And yet, even when he was alone in the library, with his personal tutor gone to get another load of heavy leather books, Eliot didn't let his shoulders sag an inch.
He was, after all, the future King. Never mind that he was only twelve years old.
Perfection was expected from him, from the way he stood to the way he breathed, all perfectly controlled and measured. He had to know not only his own kingdom's royal mannerisms, he had to learn the neighboring countries' as well. He was on his way to mastering a second language for negotiation purposes, as translators couldn't always be trusted; and his arm still ached from the half-beating his sword trainer had given him yesterday.
Whoever said a wooden sword hurt less than a metal one was a hundred per
God Is DeadGod Is Dead11 years ago in Humor More Like This
God's robes flapped around him as he looked over the edge and onto the street below.
"Don't do it! Don't do it!" cried the security guard behind him.
God said nothing, climbing onto the raised edge of the building. Five storeys below, people were beginning to take notice.
"Jesus Christ! Look!
"Oh my god!"
"Where's my camera?"
He turned and faced the security guard, who stopped walking and gazed upon the face of God. He'd been crying.
"But... why? You've got so much to live for..."
God gave a wan smile. "So have all of you."
He spread his arms wide, closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, falling back and off the building.
* * *
A crowd was gathering around the black, sticky mess that remained of What-Once-Was Our Lord.
"Is he dead?"
"Who is it?"
"Where's my camera?"
The bystander effect was operating at maximum efficiency, causing everyone to just stand there and looked at the mangled remains. Presently, however, a fine upstan
Human Experiences 7Human Experiences 74 years ago in Romance More Like This
Touko awoke the next morning to N gently pulling his shirt over her head. She laughed as it got stuck over her face and N desperately tried to disentangle her from it. Exasperated, she sat up and tugged it off and handed it to him, a smile playing on her sleepy face. She sighed as she watched him redress; she had dreamed of him all night long. She felt her face growing red as she allowed herself to revisit them and immediately wished that she hadn't.
N stretched out his long limbs, yawning groggily. Touko smiled as she took him in, stifling a laugh more than once as she took in his ragged clothing. She then remembered that she currently looked just as ridiculous and fell back into her sleeping bag in annoyance. She rolled on to her side and pulled her bag over to herself. She rifled through it until she found her cell phone.
She took a deep breath in preparation for the onslaught of missed calls and unanswered text messages that she had been dodging. S
LIFEMystery lay on her bed, reflecting on the day's events. Irony had overwhelmed Shy with the assistance of Sarcasm and Grief. Vain and Bore had picked on Patience. Reality was in the hospital again, Gore and Admiration had spent the night in the waiting room worried about their friend. Lame was studying to become an engineer but not doing all that well, Love was helping him study but no one knew why. Addiction had been caught by Obsession, Knowledge and Ignorance were dating, Revenge said it would never work out, Guilt refused to leave his apartment, and Mind wast at a complete loss. Mystery closed her eyes. What was it all about? Maybe Life would know, hopefully he hadn't been talking to Conspiracy, an odd friend of Anger and Trust. Confusion knocked on her door, "Mystery are you okay?"LIFE5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Okay is in the kitchen."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then where is Mystery?"
Mystery opened the door. "Confusion, go away."
"I love you too."
"Love is a jerk," Mystery angrily closed the doo
The RomanticThe Romantic12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've found myself among the lost;
Having sought, I seek again
the happy truth I nearly knew!
What joy had spurred each timid smile!
And oh! what passion stirred beneath
each and every stolen kiss!
To find a soul not dead to love,
elation in each passing glance,
another fearless heart for mine!
Were such a soul alive! Yet now
I've come so close, an
Sharing the Pain - ICHIxRUKIIm pathetic... so pathetic...Sharing the Pain - ICHIxRUKI7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Im not worth saving... not worth shedding blood over...
Hey. Hey, baka, wake up!
She felt a hand shake her shoulder, roughly but gently, as she pried her eyelids open. Rukia Kuchiki looked up, forced out of her nightmare, to see the face of shirtless Ichigo Kurosaki staring from above her.
Are you okay? he asked her. You were saying something about blood and being pathetic, and I couldnt go to sleep.
Huh? Rukia blinked. Suddenly, she remembered her nightmare. Oh, yeah, she admitted quietly, I had a dream. I guess I was talking in my sleep. She gave a sigh. Sorry about that.
What?! Rukias eyes widened. It was then that she felt the sticky trail the tear had made on its way down her cheek and off her chin.
Ichigo handed her a tissue. She silently took it and dabbed at her eyes with it
dear apollo.your skin is hot enough to ignite this entire world and yet you sleep curled against my frostbitten shoulder blades. you burn in your slumber and i spend my night beating the sparking, smoldering edges of our cotton sheets. myths written on linen and stone describe you as golden with dawn-skin and honey-eyes, but lover, i know you for the truth. you are the charcoal of where the sun has pressed too close, the passion of the wildfire's wake. you are the olive branches of peace and the violence of the charred leaves. you are staining my forearms with the feral licks of your ink-hair and are painting my sides with the soot of your fingertips.dear apollo.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
when we wake, it is in the sky's absence of your light and i hoard your warmth like a squirrel in the early breath of winter. the shutters are painted monochromatic in the moon's radiation but our walls are swollen with every rise of your languid chest. i can feel the frost dripping from my flesh, i can feel the ice retreating as you roll over and sp
Magic in the StarsI tried to write a poem about the stars,Magic in the Stars5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or music, or even trees,
but all that came out were visions of you.
So I guess I'll just confess that
your face splatters across my mind in pieces,
because they don't all come together until
your fingers touch my lips.
I don't think I'm crazy,
but you are singing every song on the radio
and you are whispering in my ear
while you stare at me in the mirror.
You must be magic to be everywhere.
The kind of magic that
makes trees reach up for celestial beings
while we curl up between their gentle roots.
I've always wished on stars,
but I now have a reason to change my wish.
We're still too young to understand forever,
and I know the lights will dim for a while.
(I know of plenty of sad songs to keep me breathing.)
But you know where my star lives
so come back to me when you're ready
to tell me that I can stop wishing.
it doesn't matter what I try to write about,
because you are embedded
in every image
in every sound
in every word.