A wonderful Zemyx storyThey had sexA wonderful Zemyx story7 years ago in General More Like This
untitled 12-24I wrote you a song but the lyrics were wrong and the bass was a stuttering heartbeatuntitled 12-245 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I wrote you a song but my voice wasn't strong enough to make it to the coda- repeat.
If every chord was a sunset, each melody a flame, the world would still be quite cold
But if I could just scribble out the perfect refrain, it would give our hearts something to hold
The tempo is steady, an e flat vibration
in the darkness the harmony is the only sensation
this unsteady a cappella is all that I've got
and this mixed tape is saying everything that I'm not
If we could be couplets and rain on the roof
The music might touch us as deeply as truth
Not every artist paints scenes with a brush
And I'm learning that serenades shouldn't be rushed
I wrote you a song but the lyrics were wrong and the bass was a stuttering heartbeat
I wrote you a song but my voice wasn't strong enough to make it to the coda- repeat.
If everyone sang along, this guitar would be gold
Most music is money, written to
fortuna labilis.unui făt i se taie cordonul ombilical. cu acelaşi cuţit îşi crestează jugulara, la douăzeci şi cinci de ani. o copilă îşi sparge balonul în ţepii unui trandafir. toată frumuseţea devine greţoasă, are miros înţepător şi este orbitoare ca soarele pe zăpadă. oamenii orbesc şi se ucid, din dragoste, unul pe altul. omenirea merge invers şi rujul de pe buze devine cancer la pancreas. o ultimă ţigară în mâinile unui bătrân este o aripă spre iad.fortuna labilis.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
ne moare sufletul, zi de zi, îi aprindem lumânări, ca să-l zărească moartea în întuneric. totul se schimbă, deşertul este inundat de lacrimile cămilelor iar iarba creşte din cer spre pământ. patru actori stau în întuneric, pe podeaua prăfuită a unei scene. şi-au uitat scenariul vieţii iar cr
The Fucked Up Shit You Say.I want to stopThe Fucked Up Shit You Say.3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
but I don't know how
I just need a drop of your love
to pull me out of the ground
I want to win
but I don't know how
you want to know where I've been
but I don't know where I am now
I need someone to pull me
out of the ground, I need
someone to pull me around
and around, I need someone
to dress me, quickly, can't
you see I'm bloody I'm bloody
Just one more hit
I know I'll get
I want to cry all night
I want to fight the good fight
I want to drown in him
Then I want to close the door
and lock myself in
I want to live a long life
I want to love a loving wife
I want to die warm in my bed
someday I will be free of this
And I can't stop, or turn around
No I can't sit and stare and wonder
what are all these things that I found?
No I can't turn, or walk away
I can't subject myself anymore
to all the fucked up shit you say
Yeah I wanna run so far away
I wanna run right off the planet
and into outer space
I wanna run so far away
I wanna run from every sing
PrologueS-Sir! Come quickly! She seems to be shutting down!Prologue5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Impossible! Was one of her files corrupted?!
No! Not that we know of! It seems to be that shes causing herself to self destruct
No! Thats impossible! She can only self destruct if we give the command! Unless ..no .She couldnt be committing suicide! Shes not human anymore!
Sir! Quickly! We have to stop this!
I I was human once
Or, at least something close to that.
I was created, not born. DNA of different humans and other creatures as well as artificial DNA mashed together until it went through the fazes and became what seemed to be a human child at first glance.
Or in other terms,
I was raised under constant supervision.
They preformed experiments on me. Most werent harmful.
They just wanted to see if I could show emotion or interact
For The Untapped WorthyYou think you're useless,For The Untapped Worthy3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
a burnt-black saucepan.
You think you're nothing, now,
but we'll drill some holes
through the rust--
we'll plant tall strands
of sunflowers & vetch,
and watch them bloom.
vampire 1vampire 17 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
It was a dark night. A girl was in an alley. She was on the ground bleeding from being beaten by her father. She had gotten so tired of him that she ran away. A few minutes passed and she saw a man in the entrance of the dark damp alley way. The girl tried to see his face but all she saw was the outline of the body before her.
Dont be afraid, the unknown man said calmly. I will not hurt you.
The sound of his calm yet strong voice had lured her closer to him .The next thing she knew his mouth was pressed against her neck. The feeling of death was coming and she was happy that all the pain would fade away. Before he punctured those white fangs into her neck she said thank you. He was so surprised he stopped and looked at her.
What are you waiting for? she asked. Kill me. Please kill me!
Why would you throw your life away. What makes you want to die at such a young age? Please tell me before I kill you. Tell me so I wo
9 Countenances for the Curious1.9 Countenances for the Curious4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
My limbs have become instruments,
but, unlike the piano of your memories,
I am still not anyone's to play.
I think I am finite,
that the limits of me are dictated
by flesh and numbers
on an inverted scale
but the dog on my lap
doesn't care what I weigh;
she wants only
to love me and be loved.
the pain that anchors you
strains your back,
the ship of your life
is hamstrung upon a reef
and you think you are watching
a dolphin at play
but siren songs deceive you.
my ship sank beneath the waters
years ago, this bubble of life
sustains me even as i drown:
there are storms in the depths
of me, and you see only
the ocean's calm.
At 7, I swallowed stories
like candy; didn't understand
that too much leaves you bloated.
At 17, I breakfasted on books
like pancakes; too caught up
to tell (some things should be special).
At 27, I feasted on fiction
like home-cooked meals; didn't know
some of it could poison you.
At 37, I hope I will be picking
at poetry; letting the flavours
of the words
The Suicide Slide.1.The Suicide Slide.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There you go, drifting away from me
like a kite, and when I look up, the
sun blinds me. There you go, blind-
folding me and then yourself, and then
stabbing wildly at the walls. And there
you are on the bathroom floor looking up
at me, covered in pieces of wall, skin
powdered and ten tones lighter. There
you go away.
There you go, doll, drifting far away
from me in such a white white boat,
foaming at the mouth from pills, blood
running from your ears to your chest.
There you go, drifting like barbies
down a little creek. There you go
in your pink jelly shoes, searching
for a large pile of knives, the purpose
of existence, the definition of reality.
And there I find you in the bathtub,
overdosed on grief, stomach full of bubbles.
Now I only find you in my heart, made of
every broken mirror and shadow in the world,
holding one solitary flower being raped by
a thousand bees.
There you go forever, on your suicide ship.
There you go befor
Pornography Into Poetry.California's capital was the birth place ofPornography Into Poetry.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
an angelic blackhole who could swallow men
whole in a leopard print bra with blue or
green lace, it's difficult to remember
which. What draws me to that sickness, that
constant desire for more? What draws me to
that fantasy of a mountain falling on top of
me? That feeling of being a total whore. I
wonder how many couches you've sedated strangers
on. I wonder what kinds of diseases do fishnet
stockings and bright red corsets attract? Nice
ones? Fatal ones? Watermelony? Pearlescent?
I wonder if you collapse at the end of the day
like tall buildings with angry planes stuck in
their sides like thorns. I wonder if you collapse
like when you put a puppy down. I wonder if you collapse
like discs in the back, all instantly turning to powder.
Tonight in my dreams I will hear her making that
clug clug clug cluck noise and will hear the
baby blue starsOdin's son,baby blue stars2 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
on the other side of midnight,
beneath these cliffs, a
rhapsody in blue
and dandelion wine--
the fallen star
the age of innocence
and sad lullabies
waiting for peter pan.
Wolven Master Prologue Pt 1Wolven Master Prologue Pt 16 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
She was running. Over bramble and briar, she lept, her thick, toned legs carrying her further and further from the monster she once called "Master". She could still hear his sharp, angry voice echoing in her head, the nightmares still vivid in her mind.
Many hot tears were stinging her eyes and staining her flushed cheeks as she ran and ran through the forest... her destination... unknown. All she knew was that she had been miserable and had been planning this escape for weeks.
She had left her pink, jeweled collar at his feet while he slept and had crept silently from the compound, undetected. Once she had reached the outer perimeter, all she could do was run. And, she now was still running an hour later.
The top of her foot suddenly hit an exposed root, taking her to the ground with great force as her speed had been fierce. She made contact with the fore
You.Grow your hair out long. Read more books.You.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Make love happily like dolphins in the sea.
Stop hating and banging everything. Don't
drink milk or eat cookies and walk around
more. Find yourself in a tree randomly.
Treasure things and people. Fast. Before
they break or die. Pretend that you never
loved Hitler. Pretend that you never loved me.
Gross yourself out with your own body parts
and your own waste. Take a deep breath and
look in the mirror at your face. Grow your hair out.
Stop playing video games. Don't resort to TV.
Try to forget that you were struck by moonlight
and try to forget whatever you felt that
black coffee night when the sky fell down
in front of you. Get a job. Get a life.
Let go of your narcissistic pride. Become
a drummer or a butterfly or the President
for all I care; I'll be the surgeon that
Sulfite Serenade.Maybe it is all the sulfites in the wineSulfite Serenade.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that give me the dreams that make me
ache at night. Because in the morning
I wake up to hear the news of little earthquakes
in our bed, ones that barely exist
on the Richter Scale and to hear that my sadness
has become its own little world, with its own
unique atmosphere, with a little spot where
it orbits around the sun & everything.
Maybe it is time to fake your own inspiration
and hold it for days like knives in your hands.
It is time to eat only apples or salad or lemonade
or cotton candy or ether. It is also time to hold
an ungodly amount of love in your hands like it is
fresh vomit with diamonds that glitter mixed in.
Maybe it is also all the sulfites in the wine
that have my guts bunching up in knots, my back
feeling as if it is made of cement, and people
are walking on it, my spine trapped somewhere
in it. Maybe it is time to cut it out.
Maybe it is time for all the angels to commit suicide,
all fall, dru
Brightside.At least it is not what you think it is.Brightside.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At least he is not as green as you thought.
At least your beard covers your lies,
dark and dripping down your chin.
At least you have cleavage that you
can put things into if you so desire.
At least the tremendous amounts of
pain lead to tremendous amounts of
beauty, and at least there is no one
to tell you what to do. At least your
third leg is not a giant, tearing me
to shreds like lungs. At least your skin
is thick, even though it scars easily.
At least your handwriting is beautiful,
like ripples in a lake, though illegible.
At least you are not that poor cat,
blank expression and its paws chopped off.
At least there are still blueberry girls
who you want to handfeed soy beans
who you want to shove cigarettes into
like knives. At least you do not have to
steal anymore Macbooks from attics,
bamboo staffs from basements,
amplifiers and earthquakes. At least
grandma has a big bottle of Cari
Painkiller Recall.The guilt is starting to sink in, green and hideous.Painkiller Recall.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On the plane they scrape off the ice and I think
about you the next time you fall down the stairs
perhaps no one will be there. Perhaps your husband
will be asleep all throughout the daylight
because you've drugged him, or perhaps
your husband will be outside in his underwear
in the snow, climbing into the neighbor's house
thinking that it is his own. Perhaps your husband
in his daydream is having army adventures and
engineering fake heart valves. Perhaps your husband
will walk down that raspberry mountain, and place
one wooden, velvet-covered chair at the end of the
cul-de-sac. Perhaps no one will be there
to dial 911 because you have driven all away
as hard as heavy hammers into nails into wood
or bone. Perhaps no one will be there for you
and you will fall down the stairs only to die
of another drug overdose, of another drug overdose
on the same red floor, on the same r
Autumn Vacation He's a strange little fella.Autumn Vacation5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He's got a pale face that reminds you of hours of working in the kitchen, your hands powered in the whitest flour, rubbing it deep into your pores in hopes to white-out the little creviced imperfections. When you stood too close to the oven, your veins would elevate themselves like little underground green rivers, trying to break through your dam skin. It just made you want to peal them back, but you know you can't do that. You really, really can't.
The cinnamon shadows under his eyes remind you of home during the fall holidays. The bittersweet way the orange, yellow, red falling leaves mirrors the puss, blood, and amber beer bottles in the taverns by your house. You remember beer-battered fish and beer battered mother. You'd lick the blood and sweat from your brow when you got too close to the eye of your dysfunctional familial hurr
Morbid Poems.I miss her bone structure, thoseMorbid Poems.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
jagged beautiful edges, those rows
of perfect white teeth, that gaping
smile, so open and red it almost looks
like a wound. I miss the crazy words
spilling from her, thoughts about the
afterlife, what stupid mess she was
going to make that night. It is
difficult writing this without breaking
down into what looks more like a pile of
clothes on the floor rather than a human
being; it is difficult writing these
morbid poems, watching them turn into
ghosts in front of me, and then they
take turns haunting me for weeks. These
morbid poems are draining me, they are
coffin-sized mosquitoes sucking the blood
straight from my veins, then tearing me
to shreds, dancing and laughing at me
and my glowing toxic organs. At times
they are only pillows made of syringes
that do not hurt that much because they
instantly put you to sleep. I miss her
voice, often tinged with strange feelings
that gnaw away at the soul, or the feel
WantWhat I think is,Want5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I want you all for myself.
I want your crystal clear eyes to scalpel and expose
me. Throw me down and read the notches of my rib
cage as if it were Braille.
I want you to touch my inner thigh in a way that makes
my whole body shiver. Gently applying pressure where
one muscle ends and next begins.
I want you to make my spine melt as you say, Why so
jittery? and play dumb when I mention how your touch
makes me lose myself. Even more the higher it goes up.
I want you to leave what you have and for me to stand
strong commenting, Im not worth that. You cant do that,
NegativesI trace the edges,Negatives5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Attempting to delay the rapid color-development
Of tangible memories
Sold in tens or twenty-sevens.
I wont smudge
To ruin is to sin.
For with the winter,
This dies too.
For my sake,
I hope heaven is a darkroom.
pretty boys break hearts.sometimes I think Im just a mess of badly drawn lines. Im just scrawled veins beneath paper rough skin, I wear poorly sketched scars on my thighs [skin deep red pen lines] and even my smile is lop-sided- but he never seemed to notice.pretty boys break hearts.6 years ago in Teen More Like This
my skin [spread like thick icing over my skeleton] is a monotonous pattern of pores, a stretch of the world the sun never kissed. I cant see the beauty in multitudes of freckles and chipped fingernails- but he does.
why do you love me?
you make me happy.
I never could figure out just how. was it my illegible love notes, or the tiny hearts I drew into his bare back with my fingertips? was it the filth on my knees or the way I named every bowing flower in my garden? maybe it was the way I sewed the stars to the navy sky and told him in a little, little voice-that I loved him.
either way he made my heart skip beats and bumps and bangs and he made me feel beautiful, a little
Raindrop.The sky is falling hard and I wantRaindrop.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to fall as far as it has fallen and
I want to land as softly as it lands
on the ground and I want to seep
into the earth and I want to
stay there forever until I dry up.
Haikuwrimo - Feb - 2009Haikuwrimo - Feb - 20096 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
and a lone tear
a super soup
of fowl and steel!
only the groundhog knows
both evade my grasp
barely enough snow
to write about
between blades of grass
the snowdrops huddle
at the cabaret
a chilled spine
a season teases
with a spring like day
out of habit
I grab my coat
works off her food
no need for heat
this winter day
a long day
between the sheets
a short night
at the beach
the sea foam resembles
fresh fallen snow
Goodbyei didn’t fall in love with youGoodbye11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
until your skin was already grey and i
had to tell you what the weather was like
since you couldn’t leave your bed.
i didn’t mind long nights in the hospital
because making you laugh brought a warmth
to my cheeks that burnt hotter than a
forest fire, you never laughed at me for blushing
i snuck you in alcohol and forbidden foods
and pushed you around in that rusted wheel chair,
and all the nurses looked at us with
miserable eyes that said more than the doctors
would ever tell me.
naively i thought it was good news
when you said they were sending you home; but
when i saw you strewn across your wine red sheets
my heart was heavy with foreboding, and
neither one of us said anything while i
slid an iv into your paper-skin hand, so
i never asked if you were okay.
we kissed and i didn’t comment
on your snowflake lips or the fact that
your hands shook like earth quakes when
they grazed my thigh and i held you tightly
like if i could keep