you're coldyour feet glide over the linoleum of your kitcheen floor, and the sounds of your toes sticking to the ground echo in the dark. it is past two in the morning, and you're oh so scared of waking him. oh so scared.you're cold5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
your eyes have almost adjusted to the light, or lack thereof, and you're reaching outwards, and upwards into the darkness. your hands meet what they were searching for, the cupboard above the counter, and you almost sigh in relief. you feel around for the cold, silver handle and pull it open, with just the right amount of force as to not make too much noise; you've had so much practise.
you feel over the second shelf and standing on your tip-toes, you wrap your hand around an upturned glass. your heart beats just a bit too fast to keep your breathing steady, and as you pull the glass forward, your feet give way and you slip. you fall backwards, your head colliding with the floor, and your arms flying backwards, the glass flying with them. it soars through the air and hits the wa
when i was seven.(when i was seven)when i was seven.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my math teacher told my mom i was disturbed.
i didn't know what exactly that meant
but i thought maybe it was because i read
too much about russia, and time
travel, and fairies, and oxygen,
and Poe. maybe because i was
with the blind kid who didn't
brush his hair very much.
or maybe because i told my gym
teacher i had lupus so i didn't have
to play floor-hockey. she told me once
that maybe i should read some nice books
about Henry the rabbit and his
journey to the moon (which i knew
was physically impossible, for a rabbit
to grow lettuce in space, that is).
and she told me to get some nicer friends
that didn't pick their noses, some friends
that would play dolls with me on the
picnic bench. i was worried that i would
get in trouble for hiding in the boys bathroom
from the principal, or for putting a booger
on the globe, or for using my math
as a bookmark, or maybe for
telling Shelby Taylor that if she ate the
booger i put on t
charcoal hearti met him while summer was turning into winter. it was beautiful the way the leaves fell and we would try to catch them before they hit the ground.charcoal heart5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
each pair of jeans he owned were ripped and grass-stained. he was known for sporting duct-taped converse and his baggy sweaters would act as a place for him to hide.
he would wear his scars like a prayer, covering his body and i hated having to remind him that he was only sixteen years old sixteen years old with an expression that showed disinterest. sixteen years old with tired, brown eyes and wind-swept hair. sixteen years old with sharp bones that liked digging into my skin.
the first time we kissed it rained
the first time we fucked i felt the history that stained his skin.
one day we went to the beach and drew pictures with sticks in the sand. we stood still and let the tide come up over our bare feet and wash away our pictures.
he took a step back so the tide could no longer reach him. hey, he s
time doesn't give a shiti will write you letters in the middle of the night while itime doesn't give a shit5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
listen to your rampant, cluttered miscommunications
because i know the words would be lost on you --;
how high are you? are you high enough to eat stars?
are you high enough to pretend to listen to me tonight?
i would speak poetically if you could undestand me
but you would have to be tripping over more shallow
crevices then sidewalk cracks to comprehend this
i'm counting syllables and finding internal rhymes
trying my best to let what you say sink in, but this
freeverse poem has my head spinning and i want
to take you by the shoulders and say 'just stop it,
please just stop it' but you like hearing your voice
i'm sitting on a chandallier and you're taking a nap
underneath my floorboards. you and me are fucked
up and flawed but you love thinking you're the only
one with problems, so i'll shut up and listen to you
my heart is an airplane, watching for turbulence.
my blood is lighterfluid, engulfing me in subrogation
my veins ar
when the city burns alive,Today I woke up with a head cold and a bad case of inspiration. I made a necklace out of froot loops and macaroni then I gave it to a little girl in the park because she looked a little sad. She told me, "Don't you ever wonder why we are the way we are?" Everyday, everyday.when the city burns alive,5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was one of those days when the weather forecast is wrong and it ends up pouring rain instead of staying sunny. I walked to the bridge with my hair in knots and my fingers crossed. I thought if I could jump and fall fast enough, you wouldn't see me coming. You would just react.
You're the line through my name because it doesn't look right without your last name. You're the angry piano melody in my head waiting for a sad ballad to be made. You're all the unusual words in my vocabulary that I never use because I feel unworthy. You're the person who found my fossil heart and made it worth keeping.
I went to the bridge today with knots in my hair and my fingers crossed. You were there in royal blue and black. I could
LiarLiarLiar8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are a liar.
You lied to me everytime you told me 'I love you'
You hid yourself behind a mask.
You did a pretty good job on that task.
I was a dummy to believe you.
I thought I could keep on going.
I thought I can live on pretending.
I was a liar myself.
Who could be blamed?
I wanted to keep it the way it was.
I wanted it to be...
I want to bring the days back where Ignorance is bliss...
I wish that was even possible.
Now I think back...
Everything was my fault.
If only I hadn't been so stupid.
If only I haven't been so ignorant.
If only I didn't take the risk.
If only, you never lied.
If only I never lied.
If only none of us was a liar.
It's too late now...
defenstrating a window.collab.morning starts when daybreaks fragile security. its six am, and youre still alone at the bar sipping your best friends Liquor and Loneliness. the pub owners know your wallets name by heart and are used to your routine. you want to stop, but alcohol bottles pay your mind the rent and bills, so you let your liver take the debt instead.defenstrating a window.collab.5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
the day ends when nightfalls asleep, when the moon shoplifts the sun and pulls oceanic strings in its favor. its six pm, and youre still passed out on the taproom floor. the roosters are calling, but you keep hanging up when you should be hanging on. and all this hanging reminds me of your windowpain. your inebriation shattered the glass like a hammer, and the broken window frame hungover your once-ambitious wall of fame reminds you of yourself framed and hung: you framed the window for drunk driving, and the bribed judge sent it
stardust.her hair whipped around her eyes with a fury of a thousand rays of sun.stardust.5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
she swayed from side to side and her limbs were a concoction of fluid.
she pretended that the lights dancing around her loved her back.
that when she snorted stardust the lights were real and held her close.
he had heard her speak of multiple ailments but had never seen one.
she spoke of daddy long legs crawling out of her ears and down her spine.
how her fingernails raked at her sides until she was raw and bleeding.
that her toes popped when she walked like bubbles in the wind.
but when he undressed her in the dark he found no flaws, only goose bumps.
her eyes held the solar system and lit up her face, placid but ready.
she was always prepared for something that he knew was intangible.
a tick buried deep in her brain that she fueled with drugs and made her paranoid.
it wasn't until his heart was pounding sludge through his veins did he know.
after a taste of her stardust he watched as she melted through a sea of l
calbertthere is a zebra named calbert. he doesn't like his name. his mother chose it, but he didn't like her taste- besides, she's not the one that has to live with it.calbert5 years ago in Children and Teen More Like This
calbert is a little different than the other zebras he knows. he doesn't exactly have friends, but he knows everyone in his herd. there's peter, the only zebra who will even talk to him. calbert likes peter just fine, and peter likes calbert just fine, but calbert isn't only different in his mother's choice of names
see, calbert has rainbow stripes. it's very strange, to live in a world of black and white yet be coloured so brightly. calbert grew accustomed to it, though. he understood that not everyone will accept his colourfulness. his mother tells him it's beautiful, but calbert doesn't trust that because she also thought calbert was a beautiful name
well, calbert's life was a bit lonely throughout his childhood. as aforementioned, he didn't really have many friends- and peter was only friends with him when no one else was
Ana and MiaWhen Ana and Mia enter your mindAna and Mia6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You start to believe their fatal lies.
Dont eat this, dont you dare eat that
Youll gain weight, youll look too fat.
Youll let them in, they take control
And its your body thats taking the toll.
But youll be empty, and empty is pure
Youll test the limits to what your body endures.
You fast for a day, then one day becomes three
Your body craves food, but you ignore the pleas.
Sure, youre thinner and the bones start to show
Youre tired and weak, can you see that though?
Then one day you slip and you start to binge
Eating everything in the cabinets and fridge.
What do you do with all that food youve consumed?
You must throw it up, get it out, you conclude.
Starve and restrict is what Ana instructs
If you eat, Mia demands that you throw it up.
After a while youre frail, fragile, confused
Youve lost yourself, you realize bemused.
Youve lost weight, but you need to lose m
InsecureI fidget I fiddleInsecure6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I feel panicked and paranoid
I know I can't relax
When my behaviours seem so void
If you're looking at me
I can guess what you're thinking
My heart knows I'm wrong
But my confidence is sinking
The mirror is my enemy
Relflection brings me to tears
Far from perfection
The most realised of my fears
Look at the mess that has become
Out of something so pure
But I'm helpless against my mind
When I feel so insecure
dont write under the influenceDr. Asclepius called me;dont write under the influence5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he told me i'm bipolar
(i still say it's luxuria)
Take two pills:
(as if anyone actually
obeys those, anyway)
Take another pill.
One for each time
you looked at me,
then two more if
i had looked back.
i'll take one more for that time you
branded fake <3's on my forehead
and another because your smile burns.
ten more for every mistake in my gums,
another six because i forgot dental floss,
four more because i still don't love you,
then twenty-six more because i just lied.
(another two just in case;
we can never be too safe)
add them up and our equation becomes:
eight empty bottles of antidepressants
seven dozen empty bottles of Bacardi
nine pints of Blood in my kitchen sink.
one hell of a talk with your neighbors.
Note to Self:
If our hipbones bump,
take a provocative pill.
If our ringtones crash,
take seven more pills.
If you understand this,
take an alluring dosage,
and call yourself in the
charlotte.it was halloween and charlotte was dressed as an obnoxious pumpkin, because her mother tries to make her a normal child.charlotte.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(and charlotte will whisper that normal children smash pumpkins, not wear them.)
when charlotte was seven she decided that she would swim far out into old pine lake, and hold her breath until the colors in her eyes turned purple, like the bruises that slid down her thighs and touched apon her fragile feet.
(and it was then that charlotte realized, that no one would be around to save her, and that just wasn't the point.)
charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore.
(because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.
charlotte's first b
developing exposed picturesthis is a photograph of me wearing no clothes and no make-up. I am naked and mask-free. in it, I'm a body of bricks slowly decaying into a body of water. I don't mind though; I've always wanted to be an ocean. if you want, you can cut the picture and crawl inside. I'll show you how my cigarette burns look, how my childhood scars look, and how my intentional wounds look, all from the inside. I'll show you what's inside by bleeding it all out. I'll show you the truth right down to the bone.developing exposed pictures5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
the truth is, I look somewhat strong for a girl who's really weak. but that's all a coward can really do, right? try, pretend, act. sometimes lying is like the feeling you get after you wash your face and brush your teeth. sometimes it feels like living with a porn addict and knowing he'll walk in if you don't lock the door when you take a shower. lying sometimes feels like locking the door and feeling safe for a few minutes.
the truth is, being in a room full of bodies breathing and thinking is the l
Conlanging: A How-ToAre you the sort of person who looks at Elvish script and realizes with excitement that those gorgeous squiggles actually mean something? When watching Avatar, did you find yourself trying to work out certain Na’vi words? Have you ever wished you could make up your own language, whether as something to share with your friends when you were young, or else a deeper element to flesh out your personal universe? If so, you’re damn weird. But you’re also lucky, because this article for the layman is going to make your linguistic dreams a reality.Conlanging: A How-To2 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
We’re going to talk about language. More specifically, we’re going to talk about what happens when we take language apart into its little recognizable pieces, because it’s from these pieces of real, natural languages that we build our constructed languages, or conlangs. Essentially, you’re going to get a crash-cours
When Stars CollideWhen Stars Collide4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
When Stars Collide
Erin Timmons barely had time to duck out of the way as a red Lambo twin came hurling down the hall at top speed. She had to do a double take at how he was moving down the hall, because he sure as hell wasn't running.
He was rolling...sort of. There were cars strapped to his feet. Not just any cars, no, these were reinforced military vehicles that were now squashed beyond repair.
"What's going on?" she asked Starscream who was walking down the hall that Sideswipe had just cleared.
"He's been watching television again. You humans tend to enjoy having wheels under your feet and it gave him an idea.
Finally YoursWe've spent so much time...Finally Yours5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so far apart,
longing for each other's touch,
waiting for any chance to talk,
worrying if the other was true,
wondering if our feelings were real.
So many lonely days and nights,
only able to speak through wires.
The sound of your voice,
makes my heart take wing,
and alleviates the darkness,
that which holds me in fear
each moment we're apart...
So many fears,
would you still want me?
when will we be together?
But all that fades away,
at this, the magic moment
we've waited for, so long.
No longer separated by thousands of miles.
Able to touch, to see, to hear
for ourselves at long last.
A precious kiss, a taste of your lips.
Everything I've wanted and more.
Now that I am,
the personal ad of a writerumpteen year old woman, married once to the false hope of literary promise, from themiddleof, nowhere.the personal ad of a writer5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i spend night by fire, with a wish to fall in to bear beautiful, melting scars. burn off all my hair. singe my eyelids. sleep in cinders. i spend time in bed alone, celibate, not-sleeping, not-dreaming, too-tired, just-thinking.
i am often seen wearing a coat of blue wool, holding a knock-off coffee-chain cup, carrying emotional baggage in a brown leather suitcase.
unemployed, undetermined, unattached, underwater, unimportant.
in search of a hand to hold, heart to spit out, lips to kiss the scars on my wrists, mouth to suck out my soul[ they are all more trouble than they are worth.
i write poems, but i am not a poet. poets are thieves of emotions and old words. my heart is something like a wild beast, rabid and fearsome and fearful, but i love with more than a love, just ask my annabel lee.
Ten Tips for Writing1) Describe. Description is good, and you should always do it as much as you can. We know you see the world you want to show us, but we need to see it as well, every detail. Make good use of adjectives and adverbs. Metaphors, allegories, and references are your friends. When something happens, make sure all relevant questions of who, what, where, how are answered (unless, of course, it's a mystery). And during particularly influential events say, the introduction of a new character or setting, bringing to light a new concept or perspective in a dynamic character anything story-changing should be described as much as possible.Ten Tips for Writing4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
The van came to a halt at the corner of forty-third and eight, invisible aside from the strip of quarter-moonlight glinting off its mirrors. Four men stepped automatically from it, all dressed equally darkly, and equally silent.
i'll come home.dear holly,i'll come home.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
the plane is rolling away and i can still see you waving. you are so beautiful, do you know that? your hair is fluttering at the temples and i can see youre crying, but dont worry, baby, ill be home soon. i know how this looks, the way the door shutting me off is so final, but itll open again and youll be running down the airport terminal and ill be there to catch you.
count the days until i come home, ill be counting them with you.
im home and the house is empty without you. it feels like the walls are exhaling in regret and its a bitter feeling to be surrounded by all this carbon dioxide. i walked into our room and looked at the bed that we bought together last june. all that space made me ache. so i went and grabbed boston and climbed on top of the covers with him. hes such a good dog, charlie, you were right. he just put his massive head on his paws and let me cry in his neck.
when i wa
So InsecureIm so insecure at times.So Insecure5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All the time,
But you cant blame me.
Some actions seem suspicious,
And if you saw them through my eyes,
You would agree.
If you ever asked me to explain,
I would tell you,
But you never do,
So Ill sit in silence.
But before I seal my lips,
Let me at least say this.
I over react all the time,
But you never bother asking why.
You tell me not to assume things,
But don't you do the same?
I'm sure you think I'm ridiculous.
With the ways Ive been acting.
Arent you the least bit curious?
Forget it now, for the time has passed
For me to explain.
Im sealing my lips again,
And if you ever bother asking this time,
It may be too late,
For now Ill feel ridiculous telling you.
Until you go through the same things I do,
You wouldnt understand anyways.
A word about haiku - MS JamesA word about haiku - by Michael JamesA word about haiku - MS James8 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
I believe there are a few basic precepts about haiku that are largely overlooked, or just flat out just not taught in most basic literary (poetic) courses. Everyone seems to know that a haiku is supposed to be written in the structure of 5-7-5 syllables per line respectively, but there is much more going on than just a simple syllable constraint. I shall attempt to give a brief overview of the main points about haiku.
First off, the 5-7-5 syllable structure most often cited as being the sole 'structural rule' of haiku is based on the original Japanese constraint. However, the Japanese language and more specifically their word structure differ from English in a critical way when it comes to the definition of this structure. In the Japanese language, each sound unit is called an onji as opposed to our syllable. This unit of measure for a word is considerable more concise than what we use to define a syllable (typically only