First Impressions - FanficFirst Impressions - Fanfic7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Roxas smiled, his normally dull eyes alighting with a childish excitement. He had just received the dorkiest present from his grandparents, but he was happy nonetheless. His fingers worked at opening the box, the top ripping and the box being ruined. He didnt care, though, as he tore the box apart trying his hardest to get to the contents inside.
The box was finally opened, and he looked around to make sure there was no one he knew close by. He sighed in relief, noticing only four other people in this part of the park a young couple probably newlyweds, an old woman feeding the flock of pigeons in front of her bench, and a young man probably around twenty-three sitting on the edge of a circular stone flower garden, where a small tree grew behind a full and green bush.
Roxas eyes studied the man for a minute, watching how he slumped over a paper, pieces of bright red hair dangling over his eyes. He tore his eyes away when the guy looked up, smirking at hi
The Great WallWhen papers ask me where I'm from, I write "Seattle," because they don't want to know the real answer. When people ask me where I'm from, I say "downtown," and they take a good look at me and take that to mean "Chinatown."The Great Wall4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My parents run one of the zillion dim sum restaurants here. They're what the white kids at school call "fresh off the boat." Most of the people here are. They don't speak English at home, and they try not to at work. They don't watch anything on American TV; they read the local Chinese paper and watch the one Asian channel, pausing to turn off the TV in disgust whenever one of the five daily Korean soap operas comes on. On Saturdays they go to the market and complain about the terrible selection. When they manage to find chicken's feet, they declare a feast day and eat it with reverence, like it fell from the heavens just for us.
I try to spend as much time away from them as I can. There are only a handful of kids my age here; of those who have children, most are eit
Eternally BeautifulIf you write to please everyoneEternally Beautiful5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You lose sight of who truly matters
You don't write to please others
You write to please yourself
It's a safe-haven
Where no one can judge you
You can let all your thoughts flow into words
And hope that you can get it all out in time
There's never enough time for it all though
Which is why some people never stop writing
They never stop thinking
And so they never stop feeling
Sometimes this can be good
But sometimes it's torture
You want to stop feeling
But it's not possible
Life has been too traumatizing
And you hate it
For once in your life,
You want to feel something besides pain
But you can't
You don't know how
And so you write
You write beautifully
And people love it
But it means nothing
You're still in pain
You're still being tortured
And there's nothing you can do to help it
No matter what you try
It doesn't work
Even though you think it will
Unless for a moment
But then the pain comes back
And the torture starts once more
Confused Mixed FeelingsConfused Mixed Feelings7 years ago in General More Like This
Token lifted his head up from his bed, yawning tiredly as the lights shone in the doorway of his room. Another morning another boring morning. He yanked a shirt on and left the room, thinking of where he might go next in that long white hallway. There were so many locked doors so many places he could start. But first, he needed to get something to eat. Hopefully, Ace was making breakfast. Reluctantly he passed Dezzis room on the way to the kitchen. He heard excessive moaning, which made him stop a moment.
Why am I doing this? What do I care if hes having massive sex again?
Token tried to convince himself that he cared not for Dezzis sex escapades. But he couldnt resist a peek. Carefully, he peeked in the doors crack into Dezzis room. Well, this was new. Dezzi was once again topping someone, but it was an unfamiliar face. All Token saw was the other mans bright purple hair before he got a sick gut feeling. Token twisted around and he
EquilibriumWake in the morning. Find tangled sheets,Equilibrium4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cold space and an empty, too-big bed.
Sit up. Can't remember what caused
the vacant space in your life, only that
it exists. Recall a moment, elicit a feeling.
Reminisce over warmth and intertwined
bodies, all in opposition to matted blankets.
There is a perfect unity in this world,
where one-plus-one equals one and never
two. Nothing more, nothing less. A reaching
out and taking in that is pure excellence.
There is an essential equilibrium, and you
remember the what of it all, but stop at the
who. Form an incomplete equation, defy laws
of both mathematics and human logic.
Search yourself, look for the other addend to
make up that perfect sum.
Love is not science or math, but you are. You think
in sharp representations of numbers and symbols.
You-plus-this does not equate to ready to fly, ready
to be, ready to love and live outside of graphs,
probabilities, and broken parabolic functions.
It equates to a fraction of what it could.
Haikuthon July 2009Haikuthon July 20096 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
gnarled tree roots
stretch down into the pond
resting for a spell
a thousand flags
whip in the wind
praying for profits
in the cool building shadow
in the distance
beyond the looming storm —
hint of orange dusk
a golden half-moon
hangs near distant streetlights
amid gentle rapids
an old tire
over waves of tall
fleeting thoughts of ownershipIt starts with a dream.fleeting thoughts of ownership4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
In this dream, he is sitting on a bench, and he is wearing a scarf. He assumes he is wearing other things, as well, but for the moment all he is aware of is the scarf - and it is woolen and plaid and brown, so many shades of brown. The air is cold but his scarf is warm, and his chin is tucked into it and he is breathing just over the top, breath like a puff of smoke in the wind. He sighs and closes his eyes, and as he breathes out he realizes that the scarf is his.
He realizes that he owns this wonderful woolen scarf, and he decides that he likes it. He likes owning things, setting a claim to them. He likes this scarf, and he likes the fact that it is his.
As his eyes drift open, there is the city in front of him: it is rising in sharp but majestic angles, all glittering silver and blue and orange in the setting sun. But it is quiet, even with the cars racing onward; there is no exhale of exhaust, no rising fumes from the factories that still line the horizon.
RipcordIt is warm black clothRipcord5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that tumbles my loose head
My eyes shrink softly
below the ragged line
under the camphor blankets.
there is a man at the back door.
Under trembling turkey-pink-
Heart jangles on the ripcord kick
flay these arms at the silhouette
snatching at the hot light prickles
it is black behind him.
My gorge is dry packed
a dust wall a dumbed jam
and trying to force the tight
broken glass scream
out panic! out panic! out
out out out
is like tearing plastercast with teeth
like defecating a tumour-
the noise thumps!
mouth roof from beef chest,
a solid bark gasp,
coughing a nightmare dog out through
electric waves of naked pimpled skin,
but the room is a black heatpress
and the teeth in the walls sing
that I am still asleep-
don't let him in
foreign object tapping at the locks.
a sepsis stare...
The fairy tale of death
wildfire.wildfire.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he had the taste of dust in his mouth. cottonmouth. it was sand in his teeth. he spat himself out in straight lines, clockwork ticks, washboard fluted and frottoir in nature.
he made the same noise every time.
it was like the ridges of his spine rose with the horizon when he pulled his shoulders back.
hard to blink against all that grit.
there were bombshells dessicating his skinwork, indefinite and chaotic. shrapnel fearing folk hid underground. he was not that breed.
he stood with the army. he stood as an army. their syncopated swagger stilted the staccato of their future deaths. they were not one. they were not one.
and he knew that guy to his left would be next to go down. that guy two rows back would die tomorrow. that guy right in front of him was infected. already twitching.
it would spread like a fire.
jhator deserted the looter's skirmish and he survived. it wasn't shame. it was not shame.
Watching SunshineMorning whispers blossomWatching Sunshine5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
by a dandelion television.
Wild petals dance about her face;
a still song that could not leave
with the night
beneath dawn's shell.
Weeds die between breaths:
she calls small tears and
investigates early laughs
with blooming smiles.
Every sleep after
could stand like a child
in a field full of dawn,
while sun-rise cicadas
are born innocent and safe
flowers in this moonlight garden
that melt commercial ice
into golden drops which
spring through each new journey.
Always she listens
to the autumnal howls
which trickle out,
and shores them before the thunder
I no longer wander below black bark
nor harvest above yellow dreams:
when sun-break creaks through
illuminating the thoughtful flower
sleeping in my bed.
ForgottenForgotten9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As I anticipate the night and hopefully
catch that moment of changing,
I look back on my youth and relate
my awkward attempts at understanding
to those around me.
I cannot remember places or names
clearly, but the sense
and emotion of time fills me.
Now, during the night I close
my eyes and find myself at a random
place in time, among faces
that are familiar, yet unknown.
This one reminds me of the smell
of marigolds. Another of rain.
I no longer feel this world,
but the whole of my existence.
Each day turning into another year,
each sunrise another life, each night
another release from suffering.
There are certain things I believe.
These periods of lucidity plague me,
like flashes of a dream remembered upon
waking, promising some importance, only
to be forgotten upon opening my eyes.
As I approach morning, I am uncertain
whether to be thankful that the light
will save me from these desires, or
instead regret the lost moments,
the changes that occur when looking
out the wind
this is really happening.i am unhappy from mythis is really happening.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
soul to my knees.
also i can't feel my fingers
from the hollow cold.
also i keep touching my
bones to make sure they're
still there. i'm not
normal, you see. i'm not
i'd trade my words and willows
for a smile that feels like it
belongs on my face. i'm not some
miserable basset hound
waiting for a bullet between its eyes
but my lacklustre lifeblood
has drawn me sallow
and i'm overwrought.
i don't know how many times
it takes for seeing my own
blood and breaks to make me
feel better, but i must've
cut and scabbed and cut and scabbed
and cut and scabbed a million times
and my heart's still pumping away.
here's the plan: once i lose five pounds,
i think i'll pierce my cartilage.
at the century mark, my tragus.
punching holes in my body,
raking bloody lines down my arm -
it's instant gratification in seeing
what i hate most fall to
InspirationHe sat on the corner of Ash and 9thInspiration5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hoping this time he could call it inspiration but the dogs were barking
And the cicadas were singing out before their hibernation.
It was the summer air that moved him but his mind was trained on
the clouds, dampening the stars, and how when they were backlit they were silver.
He thought back for some feeling to drain his ink for.
Every thought went back to the same old place and that memory was a battered piano.
So he closed his eyes tight and inhaled from his cigarette.
Rubbed his hands on his eyelids and saw the sky cloudless.
But there were just arrays of lights and he never was good at abstract.
Sighing and smoking. Thinking then pacing.
He had it in his head he was Rembrandt.
He had it in his head he was Kerouac.
He had it in his head
Mid April with blossoming trees
And a late breaking snow wiping the slate clean
He adjusts his halter
Wiggling his tongue around the bit
As they should be and fast
We read a storyOnce upon a timeWe read a story5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we read a story
in a traveler's eyes
a midnight sky
leaned against the ocean,
the pale moon gently
kissing the waters
Feeling the pulse
of the warm earth
cloud white dragons
basking in the moonlight
the wind moaning
in a night when dreams
Our minds are soaring
And though he wished
to bring us in his hands
memories from another time,
emotions flew with the breeze
but I guess
it's more beautiful this way
Now we have sweet dreams
for us to
Warmth-Preview-YaoiWarmth-Preview-Yaoi9 years ago in Erotic More Like This
"So...tell me about this dream..." Richard spoke as his arms were wrapped around from behind me. My arms getting goosebumps in reaction to his voice.
"It's nothing...doesnt matter..." I try to change the topic, my eyes shifting.
"Come onnnn." He nudges my neck with his nose, his breath making the hairs on my body stick up in excitement.
"Allright allright." I laugh and take a deep breath, he rests his chin on my shoulder. "Remember that night where you helped out with my hand?"
"Yeah, Paul taught me that trick." Richard smirked.
"Well, I had that memory in a dream that night..." I wonder if he's even paying attention..."Only it changed, you...started to touch my face." He pulls me closer, my back now touching his stomach. God hes warm. "You..-." I place my hands on his, "-said I was handsome." I let out a chuckle, "I remember feeling very confused after I heard you say that."
"It's true you know..." I could feel his lips graze my neck. I continued on.
"Then you leaned closer t
Beach DayOn my walk I lay down upon the sandBeach Day5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and grew a part of it,
I lay down and felt my body melding
in with the grains of crushed eons,
I let the strands of my hair attach their roots,
let my body go limp
and my mind soar.
I leapt out and watched the corpse
as it slowly receded
into welcoming fingers of sand,
down to a home where it forever belonged....
the great leap forwardthe great leap forward5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wu xian shen
my father threshes
the thin green grass,
sets it aflame.
our mother gathers
the cinders, mixes
a meal into grey.
here, a dish born
of a dying garden
my brother is the first
to eat he does not die
so we follow,
joking about the smoked spice,
laughing until our tummies hurt:
after the other.
we huddle around the shithole,
our faces wrung like rags
father leaves as we enter
OfAngelsAndFallingYou pushed me down a cloud,OfAngelsAndFalling5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
and let me free fall oh so proud.
But every fall ends in a landing,
and my wings weren't working this
time, so like every time you
fall for someone your fall
ends in a hard ending.
But even after crashing
on earth, to this day I look up
in the sky,
looking for that angel that
pushed me down the cloud
and made me ask "why?"
Now that angel is playing
around in the sky oh so profound,
and after two months I know
that she has forgotten
everything about love, lies and
letting me crash on the ground.
I know that angels and
mortals aren't supposed
to be together,
but all I know that is
that I can wait on you here
for you forever.
Till the day you decide
to be with me again
and jump of the clouds.
And if your wings aren't working either,
then I will catch you in my arms,
so that no harm comes to you,
and we can live together forever
on a boat and sail the ocean blue.
7guitar strings being plucked74 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like veins from from my arms, the
long tubes laid out on the lawn for
the neighbors to see.
glass rings decorate my hands, but
my fourth finger is bare. it hides
in the dark and sleeps deep in my
pockets when passerbys are near.
holding hands, our fingers twisted
around and around, arms swinging as
we walk down the sidewalk in complete,
warm silence. there isn't an invisible
force field stopping me from taking
a deep breath anymore. there isn't
that gun being held to my head with
the threat of rain. there is no more
heartache. there is no body next to
mine when i sleep, but there is a
boy sitting across from me at dinner
with candles between us.
We imagineUnable to see daylight, we imagine.We imagine4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Animus "Two graves," the man's hulking form ceased its near-mechanical movements for a moment to allow the planting of his shovel firmly in the cracked earth adjacent to him, "only two?"Animus4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The other man, whose body was gnarled like the dying oak tress that inhabited the graveyard, leaned his body against a large marble facsimile of a blindfolded woman bearing an assertive sword in her lefthand and a set of unforgiving scales in her right: "Yep, the earth only needs you to put two gashes in her today."
After a quick smile the smaller man abandoned the larger one to his work, and dragged himself toward the shade near his house on the western-most edge of the graveyard. Two graves, he thought, was no large task, especially in the wake of a flood that purged the majority of a near-by town; the gravedigger could handle the feat with ease.
Wiping away a deluge of sweat from his brow
Grief Some news shakes your world, it rocks you to your very core and leaves you a shell of your former self. That's what happened to me. When the doctor informed me I had an expiration date of barely six months I broke down. I couldn't believe her; I wouldn't believe her. There was nothing wrong with me, it had only been a routine check-up anyway. Clearly, one of the nurses had given her the wrong chart. I mean, I felt fine, there was not way I could be dying.Grief4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They say you go through five stages of grief when confronted with your own mortality, well they can all bite me. They have no idea what it's like. How could they? They're all still living in their own little worlds, where everyone lives forever and life is perfect. Screw them, all of them. I can't understand how they have the nerve to suggest that they have even the slightest clue of what I'm going through.
Midsummer AirI'll receive a letter though the atmosphereMidsummer Air5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a peaceful spell of good morning.
Before the night became warm
I quietly gazed at the stars in the sky
and began to miss you.
The ground softened from the rain,
your smile went through my eyes....
in the reflection of your soft vocal sound.
If this feeling would render me
into a sharp blaze
I'd be reborn into solid sky.
I would surrender to it
if only remembered in your arms
before the fireflies take me away...
and I'm reborn.