I Hate LoveI Hate Love12 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I accepted my love for you as whole.
A hole in my chest.
Gouged out like soup from a bowl, tossed into your mouth like fudge, twirling uncontrollably. Until I die. Then you'd be happy. You'd do a rain dance if I died… you wouldn't realize that the time I spent repenting the sins I inflicted on you was so cumbersome and so meaningless because you let me perish like a dolphin in a shark's mouth.
Remember that day at the park when we first told each other that there was something special between us? Remember when you said we could never be apart – that it was "my life's ambition to make you happy"? Do you remember saying that to me? Or were you too busy telling yourself that you were happy? Convincing yourself that you loved me because it wasn't true. What a child you are. What a child.
I remember this time, late one night, when I rolled over to look into your eyes, and they were open, staring straight ahead but completely vacant, full of solitude. You were not even awake, but your eyes w
Inuyasha Fanfiction - Letting GoTitle: Letting GoInuyasha Fanfiction - Letting Go2 months ago in General Fiction More Like This
Words: 591 (flashfic)
Disclaimer: You know the drill. No own IY.
Pairings: none - OCs: none
Rating: G - Genre: Introspection
Continuity: Manga. Post series
Summary: Sesshoumaru has gone to throw away his attachment to his father.
The cold breath of the afterlife sighs through the portal. Cool light comes with it, almost blinding, but Sesshoumaru's nose tells him more than his eyes ever could; the scent of the dead land is changeless dust. He can picture it without having to set a foot beyond these gates again, a single eternal day in a barren landscape of skeletons. A place of conclusion.
He resheathes Tenseiga and holds it in his reborn left hand, ready to let it go. The warmth of the simple scabbard feels somehow to resonate with the light of the doorway, two expressions of the same power. It is clear to which world this sword truly belongs.
Nothing of any consequence will happen if
Seventy-FiveWhen spring is impossible to recallSeventy-Five2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
except in the eyes of fresh-hearted young
I will seek a new tale in the grey autumn woods.
The Cat MistookNo zebraThe Cat Mistook2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but the old mare;
she bumps the stall door,
seeking sun with blind eyes.
only the neighbor's dogs
drunk with escape;
the ferment of wet woods on a grey day.
The cat mistook itself for a tiger,
not knowing that the caught vole
was one of a vast race--
that it had happened before.
CruithneCruithne2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hurtle through scattershot stars
secret unseen in a liquid night
silent and eternal cold
across seven centuries
my heart resounds in yours
like ten blind eyes
splay and seek
that core of warm
past Mercury, past Mars
my orbit echoes yours
We never meet
but I return
again and again
Hunting CoyotesHunting CoyotesHunting Coyotes5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Footfall of a frost-faced hunter
heavy with a winter kind of hope;
one paw raised above the stream.
You thought I would shatter with the sharp bark
of the gun, but moonlight still sparkles
in a spray of wet pearls along my sides.
I am cold teeth, I am the blood-stopping stare.
Creatrix Till BirdsongDo not wake me.Creatrix Till Birdsong2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am not a dreamer, I am a creator of worlds.
Had I a little more imagination, and a lot more time, I could breathe you into life.
Dark-eyed stranger, I cannot tell if we are two or one.
Never wake me.
When I ask your name you curl around me like smoke, and it is I who becomes alive when I take you in.
Pulling me closer, you bring your mouth to my ear and tell me in a whisper that you are honey and sin.
'Of course', I reply.
I knew it all along.
'Come with me', I beg. 'We have magic enough. Come with me when I wake.'
You smile, but when you part your bitten lips to speak, your words turn into birdsong...
the Solipsistheaven isn't a place or a time,the Solipsist4 years ago in Letters More Like This
because place and time are so irrelevant...
a house that eliminates sound-the drenched lung flapping soundlessly for air. this is our house; the hollow noises echo and compress deep in us and we are so afraid to live, feeling the bleeding pressure, the ardent floating in our bones.
but we do anyway, each morning rising out of the earth, a broken sun scraping into white porcelain sky. molten honey cigarette flesh, it is slippery, seeping in through your fingers when you wake up. finally you wake up. i am so warm and soft and bruised from the sleep.
you are distant, ethereal, whole. big cat eyes with a black sparkle like tar rolling slow and thick down a circular curve. you have a very strong dislike of speaking in the early hours so i move to the kitchen soundlessly, adoring the lonely tin heat the kitchen brings me.
boiling water, sacrificial bloating of liquid- it's just a tuesday on the calendar but i am so aliv
ripplesin the small dark pool where youripples3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
slip into yourself my friend
take your name like a pebble
cast it away
cast it away
cast it away
FallFor a while it will seemFall2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as if I was never coming back,
like summer or a childhood dream.
Your toes twist in the September sand
and the chill reminds you
that some thoughtless time,
some apple-scented eve
the old dog will growl low,
the night shadows stir;
moths will dart desperate
through an open door--
and you will watch solitude disappear
like broken, restless love.
Stories about our fatherOur father is fourteen in this storyStories about our father3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
so we must imagine him young and slim
bobbing on his toes, the quiver
of his racquet like the quiver
of a cat’s tail.
We’ve seen our father play before,
sitting courtside with our action figures
and paper dolls,
deadened to the minor explosions
of balls striking asphalt.
But we are surprised now by the
in his face, his eyes moving the tight loop
from court to net to opponent
and back again.
And it occurs to us
that we haven’t occurred to him.
Our father is pre-marital,
his world blazes between these
But soon we look where our father won’t:
To the stands where
our boy-faced uncles jeer
beside our grandmother, thin and erect
where we know her
soft and stooped.
She raises a hand to the metallic crest of
her hair and calls out,
David! What’s the score!
And it is understandable to us
that he pretends not hear.
That his shoulders twitc
50 Consejos para estudiantes50 Consejos para estudiantes5 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
+ de 50 CONSEJOS PARA ESTUDIANTES DE DISEÑO GRÁFICO
Escrito por Chii-Original.
Por motivos de que ya acabé la licenciatura les comparto este magnifico tutorial , con tips y consejos que me hubieran ayudado al momento de entrar si alguien me los hubiera dicho.
Espero que los lean y los pongan en práctica , porque en verdad ayudan. Espero que no cometan los mismos errores que yo cometí y disfruten su carrera.
Les deseo muchos éxitos a todos los que esten empezando su carrera o quieran estudiar diseño gráfico.
¡Vamos a los tips!
1.Escojan una universidad que tenga laboratorios visibles de diseño gráfico. Que cuenten con programas tales como Photoshop e Illustrator como básicos. No se preocupen si usan Mac o no, esto es relativo, ya que en la vida real muchas empresas no tienen suficiente capital para pagarlas. Y , es muy importante , que esten certificadas por el ministerio de educación
like candylike candy10 years ago in Transgressive More Like This
Shaking. Every piece of her was shaking. Her mind jostled inside her skull as a thin stream of spit sailed from between quivering lips. It felt like an explosion from the inside, and it was as if she felt her pupils dilate, and the fire start burning across her cheeks. Her breathing grew ragged; quickened, and her heart pulsated under seemingly cracking ribs.
A cold sweat glistened upong the plane of her forehead as her teeth clamped upon her bottom lip (later to tear right through it), pain searing through every nerve as she slowly pressed the plunger further into the syringe (it was barely past the first black line -- a milestone).
Her right hand began to tremor violently as her mind shouted halfway there, but her body could barely pay attention...she shifted her eyes from the trails forming along the soft part of her arm, veins burning...tourniquet hugging her bicep like a demented teletubby. The seconds seemed like hours as the fluid seeped into her system, sprea
in the seams(a) when I was young I was a robin that stole the eggs from another's nest.in the seams2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fitted upon my stare there was a warning
personal's too personal for me, well i
would not use wings if i had 'em.
a child of rye with a silhouette spoiled by the sun, I was, I am.
and sometimes I see some vengeful sparrows still under my fingernails;
their glistening beaks snap melodies that rib a hundred bird-bone cages,
so light you could blow 'em away with a twist of your lungs.
and there are still words jailed between my teeth and my tongue and I do not speak of,
do not think of
but they rattle between bone and flesh and I
drown them sometimes when I sing.
(b) oh, you:
"love is a hobby like anything else, and I no longer have the time."
she asks me what I'm writing:
I am constructing a corpse can't you hear
me as I speak the meaning out of my name and
you bleed like I smile:
slowly, and without malice.
The Lucky OnesEyes close forever at uncertainty arcadeThe Lucky Ones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the spine of the world breaks
Do I run? Well you'd better, or your clarity will fade
For the child and the girl's sake
They will always know
Sweat grows cold
The players fold
You're all alone together, and you know you won't be saved
And the road under your feet shakes
Heads float like feathers along the murkey lake
Before they sink under their own weight
They will always know
They'll do as they're told
Dispair's dream starts
At the light show before the end
You fall apart
It's lost now, forever, your bed is long since made
The sleeping child is long since awake
It's better now than never, or at least that's what they say
Do they realise their first mistake?
They can never know
Sweat grows cold
You fall apart
At the light show before the end
You fall apart
Before the end you'll fall apart
And if you can't see it,
You're the lucky ones
BonesYou enter the silence, still warm from the ones who came before, their bodies gone and their minds drifting.Bones10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
You enter the room, laughs still echoing as you slip in through the hidden door.
You enter the tomb, the floor still wet with the tears of the bones surrounding you.
And sometimes at night you can hear the metal scraping as the city folds in on itself.
Or the stars crashing into each other as galaxies merge above and below our heads.
Sometimes you can feel the ants crawling under your skin, and sometimes you can feel the earth as it turns.
You can hear the clock tick like the wrists breaking every second, lost from the beginning and bleak at the end.
You can feel the rogue time leaving you as you're left speechless with the bitterness of boredom, it's hands clutching you so desperately.
You can feel the wind roar in the nowhere town as the guns draw and the train comes.
You can hear the demons who were once human shrieking as they snap every bone, sucking the marrow.
You can hea
Time, Spaceand nameless things-Time, Space2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the cold, the unrepentant
are nearer to God than I to you.
Petty deaths spring forth
erupt like cannon fire
till I am down, I am on my knees.
and the shades of thought bleed thick
as wounds; take what is offered you-
ten miles from the trenches, myself,
into your arms.
Broken HeartBroken Heart10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Running out of needle and thread,
To sow my broken heart,
So many tears it's bled,
And now it's falling apart.
Bleeds because it wants to love,
And wants to receive some back,
But it appears never to have been worthy of,
And every day adds another crack.
I hear the stitch and I hear the break,
I feel the sore and feel the ache,
Its bleeds, it cries, it screams in pain,
The hurt it carries I can't explain.
Pieces by Pieces it withers away,
Tried sowing it back together but it just won't stay,
And someday it will fall broken to the floor,
Not remembering how to beat anymore.
No Stitches left, completely open in two,
No longer red in color, turning into the color blue,
Lying on the floor, bleeding split apart,
And that's when you'll know I've died of a broken heart.
An Open LetterAn Open Letter to the Wasp Trapped on the 71vAn Open Letter11 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You may not have noticed me, but when I stepped up in to the bus, I noticed you. I made my way to the nearest seat, careful not to disturb you. The other passengers and I watched you crawling on the window. Our eyes filled with worry, and we sat still, staring, each of us hoping we would not be the one you stung.
I felt your frustration, as you banged your head on the glass and crawled about it, watching the trees blur by. All of the exits were clearly marked, but you could not understand them. You could not know when the doors would open, which pane of glass would slide. Perhaps you would never be free, I wondered. Perhaps you would die there. I wanted to tell you that I have been where you are. I wanted to tell you that I knew how you felt. But I didn't.
For thirty minutes I watched you. I imagined myself sliding my hand under your six legs, cupping my fingers around your frail body, and carrying you outside with me. But when the b
01-21 - Funeral Pt2Embora esteja a olhar para o céu, todos os seus restantes sentidos estão atentos a qualquer movimento. Por momentos, julga que adormece. Corpos celestes cruzam os céus deixando ligeiros rastos de luz branca e brilhante. Como que hipnotizado por uma serpente, não consegue tirar os olhos do céu. Uma atrás de outra, as luzes acendem-se a cada passagem, brilhando intensamente e aos poucos definhando até finalmente se apagarem. Um ruído atrás das suas costas despertam-no do transe e rapidamente está desperto. Quando tira os olhos do céu, já não havia sinal das luzes, mas a sua atenção está totalmente virada para aquele que procura. A sua visão adapta-se à escuridão e vê tudo tão claramente ou mais do que se fosse de dia. Sem se mexer e sem fazer nenhum ruído, espera que novamente soe o som que ouviu anteriormente. E não necessita de esperar muito até que ele surja do seu l01-21 - Funeral Pt28 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
swollen faces and cold coffeeIn the days of swollen facesswollen faces and cold coffee1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
and cold coffee We drank(why not?)
we had nothing better to do
and as the morning light traveled
our shadows changed
to black and blue
VisitorThere is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,Visitor2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wrist-deep in fresh soil. Her hands are birds
It's late, but no one comes to take her home.
The pale moon offers a silver smile -
the clouds disapprove.
Too tired to dream, she buries her legs in sky.
Tonight she is invincible, untouchable,
this frail girl beneath the stars
this death in light.
There is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,
falling to her white knees. Her stare is a pane
The eyes of the living are often murky but
the eyes of the gone
Her eyes scream fill in the _____.They saidHer eyes scream fill in the _____.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she has starving
little poet fingers,
the heroic hearts
of nameless protagonists.
But, she cries
tears of Saturn
on too-little-sleep nights,
& coffee ringed mornings.
They call her vanilla.
much too ripe to fall
with freckles on her
Into the LightThe moon tonight is, simply, a white noteInto the Light2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
adrift, spinning. It patiently tracks the breeze
on the edge of genesis, floating in motes
of static. On the surface, it seems at ease.
Light filters through oak leaves and coats
its thrall, the summer heat's slow weave
through the river's margins to the throat
of the sea. Small fish leap up to tease
the moon tonight. Simply, this white note
rotates its body like thread released
from reel, alters its position over nodes