indiedusk descends onto giants of glassindie5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
these towers of death, these heights so crass
in the multi-story monsters of pain and work
where the lightless creatures thrive and lurk
yet thrive we in our vintage ways
as we wile about the summer days
not worrying towards the whens of now
only joy into our hearts we allow
and lo'! the queen of the indie scene!
floats down the stairs in a midnights dream
hailed by melbournites, and musos alike,
as we fade off into a lamp-lit night
down alleys of dark, we swoop and glide
and find the few last places to hide
for in our obscurities we seek a home
we be the indies! and we shall never be alone!
Ode to Ferris wheelClarice placed a finger over the dot labeled You Are Here and dragged it along the brown line that indicated the path she was on. Her eyes narrowed. The plastic covering that had once encased the map had been torn away leaving the paper exposed. Rain and wind had smeared the ink into illegible squiggles or else reduced it to stark white. She sighed loudly, letting her hand hit her side.Ode to Ferris wheel6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Whats wrong? A voice asked from behind her.
Clarice jumped. She still hadnt gotten used to his presence. A tall figure stood behind her. The grey rock climbing outfit he wore, still damp from the previous nights rain, clung to his lanky body. His two gloved hands clutched firmly on a pickaxe. The white cloth of his face folded in on dirty brown eyes, forming a look of puzzlement.
I was hoping to find the exit on this thing. Clarice jabbed a finger at the demolished parchment. But I guess nothing can be that simple, can it?
I don't want itBreathe, breathe, breathe...I don't want it5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I don't want it,
But I need it,
To feel this satisfaction,
I'm a bit sick,
Call the medic,
I can't handle this interaction,
I've given up to my inaction,
Day to pass,
Give me my God-damned sanction,
I just need it,
Would you give me all that you have?
I don't want it,
But I need it,
Would you die for me?
You don't feel this anymore,
Breaking inside my second skin,
I don't want it,
But I need it,
To feel alive again,
We've been fooled in,
How can we solve this dillemna?
If I can find it,
If we can sight it,
We'll be happy forever,
Go on, bite it,
I can't fight it,
You couldn't do much better,
A little more,
I just need it,
Would you give me all that you have?
I don't want it,
But I need it,
Would you die for the cause?
White FrostUpon discussing the better output for deathWhite Frost6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Frost or flames
I choose frost.
I heard it's like falling asleep
And I wouldn't mind sleeping in your arms forever.
(They say you die from asphyxiation before the burns
I couldn't stand choking on the words I want to yell).
You say you hate your skinit's so full of marks and scars
All beautifully sprawled against pale, pale skin.
I just want to connect each one
So maybe you can stop being so ghostly
And stop disappearing
(My skin was too clean
So I dyed it red one night).
I always loved the feel of cold white air on bare skin
So torturous and painful, it almost felt good
Subtle reassurance that we haven't disappeared
(One day I'll build myself a rocket ship
So I really could).
Failed Thesaurusthe way he watches herFailed Thesaurus6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
his heart must string to his eyes
because when he blinks
you swear the lack of her
rips another sepulcher in his heart
the things he whispers to her
with that lovely shake in his voice
makes you think he created a language
out of treble clefs and sixteenth notes
the way your heart blooms into a schism
the way your cheeks cover in tears
the things he writes to her
written with anything he can find
it doesn't matter if the medium
renders all the words opaque
theme ten - breathetheme ten - breathe6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my windpipe collapsed last night
because i fastened a belt around
my neck so i would stop shouting
the worst truths and secrets about you
i was tired of tasting you every
time i would open my mouth
for oxygen; i stuck a rusty needle
through my lip so all i taste is metallic
i dared myself to breathe acids
through my nostrils; i smiled when
they tore through my nasal cavity
and pulled apart my bronchial tubes
when i pull my blanket over my
head at night i pretend it is to protect
me from the monsters; i always jolt
awake before i suffocate in dreams
i stopped smoking cigarettes because
you wanted my lungs to be healthy
the ironic thing is that whenever i breathe
you are in the air and i want to stop
Acceptance Ch 43 **Yaoi Warning**Acceptance Ch 437 years ago in Erotic More Like This
Its fucking freezing, Dev muttered as a gust of cool air slid up his sweater, a violent shiver wracking his body.
It is nearly Christmas, Dev, Jerry laughed, bouncing along beside him along the sidewalk. And you are just wearing a sweater.
Dev scowled. Its a warm sweater, and it isnt that far from the car to Jessicas house.
Then quit complaining, Jerry grinned, seemingly impervious to the cold as his thin shirt rode up an inch or two in time with his stride. Jerry gave Dev a wicked look. Or maybe I should say stop trying to get Jos to press up against you and warm you up. Were going to a party, after all, and I dont think you want to put on a show for people. A delicate pause. Another one, that is.
feel like flying.i used tofeel like flying.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
look at the pretty
how it felt to fly
it was only
Behind Closed DoorsI always thought shed be there for meBehind Closed Doors6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
She gave me the comfort no human could provide
They found her made me get rid of her
But I need her
I hate looking at my reflection I want to cut myself open
She said Id be prettier that way
Ive always wanted to be pretty
Doesnt that sound nice?
I really wish shed stop calling me such awful names
She made me cry and yell in front of them
Just so I was nice to her later
And as much as I wanted her to stop
Shes my addiction
duskdusk.dusk6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the painters brushstroke shading the sky
when decisions waiver between light
i was happy.
you were happier.
clouds couldnt stop us, baby.
it'll be dark soon, i know.
you dont need
my falling star soul
to be complete.
(you didnt even notice when i stopped kissin
makeshifts and shooting starsdear diary,makeshifts and shooting stars6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if my calculations are correct,
this is day 24.
the number of circles i've walked
around sky-scraping hopes
in worn-down shoes
filled with sand and salt.
the number of makeshifts
i have learned to make from things
that once washed up on the shore
(just like me).
the number of songs
stuck in my head
that prevent me from
hearing the ocean.
the number of stars i count
before falling asleep.
i look up at the sky
and catch myself wishing upon every shooting star
that it's actually a man-made airplane,
coming to save me.
secrets left in library books.1secrets left in library books.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have redone
my personality and my
heart and my life and
all the things
in between. the only thing
that is not worth redoing
my heart had a
do not enter
mat on it, but you
never knew how to
listen, did you?
you promised me
if this is happiness,
you can have it
my shadow has
prettier than me.
you twirled me around,
in the park, once.
you said we will
reach the stars, sweetheart.
i wish i had known
you meant the
my heart used
to do this funny
thing for you.
now, it only
i always thought
seven was magical,
but then you took an
eraser to both.
i stay awake
just to stop the
(it never works.)
i will admit this:
i never deserved you.
you never deserved
yellow buses and carnationsi was trying to write a poem about a love letter, or a macabre letter, when you asked, "do you remember yourself at thirteen?"yellow buses and carnations6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i thought instead about the fact that i own no rubix cube. "no," i said.
you seemed disappointed and i kept staring at my paper.
i did cartwheels in winter, pressing my palms to frozen asphalt on the street and you sat on the hood of my car and told me about the first time you'd ever cursed, what things you'd owned and lost. you told me about the nicknames your father had given you and temporary tattoos you could buy for fifty cents.
and i turned upside-down, turned upside-down, turned upside-down, feeling my heart clatter around inside me and feeling bad, because i was not listening to what you were saying.
i bought a rubix cube and placed little shiny heart stickers on every colored square so that each time you turned it, you'd find love. i then made a fortune teller out of paper and did the same thing, but after a while, the hearts didn't comfort m
a letter.dear you,a letter.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i've bled over this for long enough.
your personal geography.You killed every one of my dreams. They were fragile and required deep digging, but you dug deep enough to find a way.your personal geography.6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
(Haven't you thought that by breaking every single one, you must have killed yourself multiple times?)
You didn't quite adore all the cracks on my heart, so you took it to lost-and-found. You labeled it lovely - "broken things are beautiful" was your anthem. Me, I didn't see it as beautiful.
(Just throw it out, no one could ever be interested in such an ugly hollow organ.)
Definition of a loser: someone who does not win. You used to say I won at losing, maybe to make seem less discouraging.
(So did I win or lose? No, I couldn't win. Not even at loosing.)
I once asked you to tell me the latitude and longitude of your love. You locked me out of the room while you were trying to figure it out.
(But you never did find the component needed before taking any measurements.)
matchstick houses are castleswe lived in matchstick houses andmatchstick houses are castles6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
licorice forests. you called me baby
and i called you sweetie, honey, dear.
you took my hand and lead me straight
into life lessons, like how to casually
throw in a cuss word, like a hello-smile.
you taught me that when people throw
orange peels, paper plates and axes at
you, it only means they love you.
i taught you what it really means to
be sedated emotionally, and how to win
a girl in fifteen steps.
spencer, it's okay to walk around
in a too-big shirt and eat two-week
spencer, you told me i would be prettier
with blue eyes, or green eyes, or any
color other than cinnamon.
that day i took over fifty photographs
of myself, and in each one i scribbled
over my eyes in
all the colors in the sky, except for fawn.
we used to sit on wooden benches in
public places, and share secret glances,
because i was the girl nobody liked, and
you were the boy everybody loved. maybe
that was why it could never have worked
out, if you really wanted to hold
letters to myself.dear self:letters to myself.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes, i wonder where happiness goes
when it's lost.
i have checked
under my bed
for monsters and
there are none.
i have decided
the only kind of monsters
are the ones within
people, including myself.
i don't dream anymore.
i let the world
take my dreams from me
and throw them in the trash
because they said
'those will never come true'
and i believed them.
don't let them do the same
don't be afraid.
none of my wishes
have come true yet,
but this does not mean
i should stop hoping
and dreaming and
you can't make
people happy, and you can't
make them smile.
but you can still try.
i miss going outside
just to stare at the clouds walking
in the sky; tasting the air
and happiness; watching kids
play in the backyard next door
and not being a part of it
and being a part of it
all at once.
closing your eyes and
locking the doors and
praying this all goes away
will not sh
abc's of love.a. he'll never admit it,abc's of love.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but he falls asleep
wishing your heart
would stop beating,
but you would go on
then, he'd take out your heart
and put it in a picture frame
over his bed.
(he knows that this
is the only way
your heart will ever be his.)
b. he reminds you
(and how people always
blow them out.)
c. he plays games of
tic-tak-toe against himself
on your ribcage
while you're asleep.
he always loses.)
d. he associates happiness
with light and sunshine.
(he thinks it's ironic
how most people rely on
artifical light instead of actual sunshine
he's got your heart
in that picture frame,
(you wonder if
it's stopped beating yet.)
could have been's.you told me we couldve been so lovely.could have been's.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i said no. the only lovely things are broken things, and i said i would not break, i would not break, i would not -
you closed my eyes and said it was too late for that, and i shouldnt waste my time with denials.
i asked you if i could read the chapters of the story of life out of order. because isnt it all just the same?
the only thing that changes is how we react; how we think and how we feel.
im not changing.
and if i am:
its not for the best.
could i be the one that does the breaking, for once?
you told me that our love was like this:
black holes that never suck in anything. plants that never see the daylight. birds that dont fly. moons that dont have a planet.
you said it was pointless.
i said it only sounded lonely.
i want to start over. i want to delete this, and my story, and my life and -
you said no. no, no, no.
i asked why, and you said you dont know.
you never do.
i'm sick of broken promises.you said the rain would come downi'm sick of broken promises.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in rainbow colors if i willed it to,
and you said the flowers
outside in the garden could stay alive
through the winter if i asked them to.
you told me i was magical, that i
reminded you of Snow White and
silly fairytales like that.
(i never had the guts to tell you-
Snow White wasnt magical;
the evil ones are usually the most
ones in the fairytales.)
you would brush the hair out of my eyes
and say they were the prettiest shade
of black, but sweetheart, they are
brown, and they are the color
of the mud your shoeprints put
over my newly cleaned carpet and
white bed and my
already stained heart.
you always liked stepping on me, though,
didnt you? and i let you because you
said you were sorry, and i believed you
because that was all i knew. you said
you would use the doormat next time.
and then we ran out of
next times, but then again,
you always told the prettiest lies.
champagne-glass hearts.in advance; i thought you'd like to knowchampagne-glass hearts.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my heart is sorry for the pain it may
cause, even if i did warn you.
and maybe, you think i'm some glacial kind
of girl, suited for rubyred lips, late
nights and champagne glasses. the kind of
girl who is dainty and
precious, and cold and blanched. the kind of
girl who wears a string of pearls, the kind of
girl who could tie her spirit to a string. and
not leave it dragging against the concrete.
if that is what you want,
you would be better off dating a bird. it could
help you grow those wings you always talk about
and maybe a spine.
(i always thought that the only wings
you should be associated with
were the kinds that you and your drugged
friends were known to break into.)
when the lights were out and we were
alone, though, it was okay for you to
kiss me with a fierceness i could not
comprehend. it was okay for you to push
me further off the edge, as long as i
was still beside you. your bedroom voice
wasn't so "coaxing" and "seducti
Memory girlShes the girl made up of memories.Memory girl6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Dark eyes hiding her past and pale skin stretched over things forgotten.
Id visit sometimes to make her laugh, just to hear the sound that makes you laugh and cry.
Wed stay up late and talk about our future, our plans. They didnt mean anything though.
Next morning shed have bags under her puffy eyes, and Id say Lets take pictures! You look perfect! Perfectly herself. A little girl full of and made from things long ago.
One night she told me her story. It was familiar and alien. Hearing it was like finding your drawer filled with your clothes all the wrong size.
I told her mine, she whispered at how opposite we were.
I think I cried that night.
At school our project was Show n Tell. I wanted to put you on the stage.
Instead I brought my scrapbook, and it was okay. Later she held my notebook and traced her fingers over the newspaper clippings, and I wondered if she knew how much she was like my preci
BoneboneboneBoneboneboneBonebonebone6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
His hip bones;
They stick out his sides.
Like a thorn on a rose.
A presumed pest on a beautiful body.
Visible under his porcelain skin.
Like a fence in front a garden.
Sturdy to protect the fragile figure.
Keeping him together because hes got nothing else
refraining him from falling apart.
A beautiful boy breaking bone by bone.