she's the girl:She's the girl with pens in her hair.she's the girl:5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's because it is an unreliable method, a slapstick attempt at being beautiful, and some abstract form of her person. She changes the caps to reflect her moods but they only come in different shades of gray. She also likes how it'll look different everyday so she can be her own new person and stop feeling like the same spawn of the devil over again.
She's the girl with ink on her fingertips.
It comes from the cheap newsprints where she looks for jobs since maybe she could better achieve someone else's expectations if she chose them herself. But running down the lists, she realizes that she doesn't fit any description at all. She always wonders why the blue-black tinge is the color of bruises but can't ever scrub or shake it off completely.
She's the girl with poetry on her wrist.
Everyone thinks it's because shes so talented, so artistic, so special- but it's just to give them something to focus on other than her scars. It's a symbol of
love, lust.love, lust.love, lust.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hold me, please.
Withered heartYour feelings fester and decayWithered heart5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
They neither fade nor fly away
Instead, from love and gentle care,
They turn on me and bring despair
Where once a heart beat out its life
Now putrid rotting fibres lie
A soul that once would hold me close
Now turns away and scorns my prose
To stop yourself from loving me
You built a false reality
With poison found where none resides
And in my words: imagined lies
When the walls fall quiet.Rain makes me want to write to you,When the walls fall quiet.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to tell you the things I should have said five months ago,
five years ago,
when we were younger and weaker and it didn't hurt so much to breathe.
We weren't happy even then, and I was too young to know the difference.
Do you ever think we're growing up too fast?
When we're smoking behind stores
and drinking to sleep
and buying drugs from the boys who tried to love me
but got burned along the way.
They don't know we're still children, and neither do we.
We drive too fast and talk too much and drink until we die,
but god, tonight I do not want to die.
Tonight I do not want to fall asleep as the ceiling reads me poetry
and the trees outside call my name.
I want to dream again,
I want to see the future as I sleep and know that tomorrow
I will not wake up with razors slid down my side
and the life licked out of my veins.
I want to know that someday
I will not have to lie and say I'm feeling fine,
that the lights will not blind me and the sounds will not p
Guarding eachotherTonight I finally fully realized that there are friends behind meGuarding eachother5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I don't mean just thinking about it no I mean fully bodily realized it
I've regained that which was lost to me
No way I'm gonna give this up again
That guy gave me something, something that carried a message
I will hold it with me.
Till I myself can lay down an oath like that
I say I set out to only help
But there is not much I can do more then observe
Handing out advice and viewpoints
Hoping it may suffice
See to most of you crying is a vent
But I'm stuck I can't cry anymore
I just tear up and need to rub the water from the rims of my eyes
Could I find it in my heart to cry for another, perhaps
That might help more
Usually I just look at these people emotionlessly
Not without expression, just that generic kind little smile they teach you in psychology
Like a blank canvas on which their sorrow can be spread out
Worked with and divided , lessened in strength
And if they feel the need to cry
Be the supporting standard that
Of leaving pieces.Understand this: that love is a religionOf leaving pieces.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of birds, of restlessness, of flight.
Of moving somewhere warmer when the cold sets in,
of longing, of leaving, of being
the one left behind, of feathers,
of an empty nest in the heart of winter,
nestled in some firm elbow of brittle branches
that stopped reaching for the sky when the last
leaf fell, bleak against a landscape of
blacks and whites and greys save for one
little piece of red string,
tucked lovingly among the twigs,
so dutifully gathered, piece by piece,
by a creature who had seen winters before,
but made a home for himself here anyway.
Nothing personI don't know what I am doing hereNothing person5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have no purpose, no goals, no dreams
I don't enjoy life
I know there's no future for me
And a person without future is nothing
It's what I am
I am a nothing person
Who has nowhere to go
I keep hearing this suicidal mantra in my head 24x7
"You're worthless and useless...so, just fucking do it!
No one will miss you when you're gone"
The Other ChildJune 30th,2010The Other Child5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This house divided, plastered with labels
Ugly stains of prejudice
Smeared into the walls
The family seated with plastic smiles
Father ignores the knocks at his door
His faithful sons applauding and cheering
As the other child begs and starves for one hug
Suffering after years of inner strife
Stones thrown, and slurs expressed
No one cares
You brought this on yourself
Their harsh words kicking him in his side
Trying their hardest to change his mind
An illness that needs curing
He holds his head high and carries on
Wiping away the spit, hiding the bruises
Despite his eternal bleeding
He flies his flag high, placing shame in its place
Underneath the soles of his feet
His radiant multi colors blind the world
Burying his old and tired facade
Breaking out of his confined space
Being exposed to the calm winds of freedom
Breathe deep the sweet oxygen
Honesty and love , happiness and bliss
For the very first time
The key to your new life in hand
What do you do with a llama?What do you do with a llama? Allow me to let you in on a little secret. Llamas are the most useful creatures in existence. You don't believe me? Well then, I shall prove it to you.What do you do with a llama?5 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Let me start with the basics. Llamas have been used to caddy golf clubs, act as guard animals for sheep, carry down ore from mountain mines, and drive carts for transportation. They can be used for entertainment when breeders bring their llamas to compete in shows and races, their meat can be used to make burgers and steaks (and it apparently tastes like a mixture of beef and lamb with a tinge of extra sweetness), and they can be even used for companionship due to their gentle and good-natured souls. Still not convinced? Their thick outer coat of fur can be used to make rugs and ropes, while their fine undercoats can be turned into garments and handicrafts. Oh, and guess what? Llamas can be ev
Realisations.The last session with my psychiatrist. I should be excited. I should be screaming, "Yes, yes, no more!"Realisations.5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
As I walked up the steps though, there was a tiny bit of sadness lodged within my heart. Even though every session cost over three hundred dollars, even though the financial aspects were the biggest disagreements with me and my mother, the advice I walked away with was worth so much more. And in a way, walking away from that was hard. But I knew the door was always open if I wanted to come back, if I needed to come back. There is no shame in falling, no shame in finding support.
"I'm allowed to heal," I whispered to myself.
The room was the same as ever. Two couches, a little table with a tissue box, a desk crammed with papers and a desktop computer flashing the map of the world. As usual, he sat opposite me, drinking from his blue thermal flask, leaning slightly on his office chair, clothed in a typical business suit. That was one of the first things I disliked about him
A word with the windI yelled out to the seaA word with the wind5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
where the wind grasped my voice
dropped the words into the waves
where they plummeted down without noise
I took a step back and breathed hard
Filled my lungs with the salted air
Prepared for the next roar
Emptied out untill my vocal cords snapped
An angel settled behind me
Intrigued following the play
I asked him what he was doing
He told me 'lead the way'
I grasped the chain round my neck then said a prayer
Started walking without direction
The angel followed silently
Mused by my reaction
I ended up at a medieval tower
One not so big yet quite impressive
I recognized the place
The pinnacle of my trust in humanity
The angel put his hand on my shoulder
shook his head and then walked away
There I was , stuck with my head in the clouds
Whilst in reality I lay face flat on the curb
I screamed at the world
where the wind grasped my voice
dropped the words into the earth
where they plummeted down without noise
Irrational LoveTickIrrational Love5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The hands of the of the clock perfectly mirror the sound of the grubby man gnawing at his fingernails behind the counter. "Joe." Reads his name card, partially smeared in ketchup. How delightfully cliché. I'm on a bar stool, cover partially torn off, at the counter of some nameless highway diner. The heat is stifling, and the coffee black as Joe's fingernail clippings. My backpack sighs, it's breath disappearing into the dry air, as it rests its head against the leg of my stool, and I order another coffee. The sludge sloshes against the paper cup, and I slug it down. I have nothing better to do. The highway I'm on is dead. Barely more than twenty cars have passed in the two days I've been here, and not one has stopped. The heat forced me indoors when I woke up at noon this morning. I lower my head, cheek thanking me for the cool solace of the counter top.
"You can't stay in here all day, you're scaring away the other customers." Joe's voice is nearly as grit
worthless endeavorYou strive to killworthless endeavor5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
my emotions and dreams.
You won't conquer me.
Anorexia Never Felt So Righti.Anorexia Never Felt So Right5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I haven't eaten in days and I'm feeling a bit out of place, but no need to worry, we're just moving at a very different pace.
I tried telling you that I haven't been well and everything's coming to a standstill but you didn't seem to care as you just stood still and flicked aside my words like they were bullets aimed for your chest. You told me you didn't like talking about these things and I thought with me that maybe it would be different but I guess I'm nothing more than any other person that's passed you by. A hello, how are you like you give a fuck but you always leave before I can ever reply and I'm left whispering goodbye.
It's now a quarter past ten and my stomach's telling me I should feed it something but that's the whole reason I got into this position in the first place. I like to believe that some people can tell when you're just not right but I must be wrong because I've yet to find a single person that can see that I'm falling apart quicker than the words com
Stop The HateI thought you were understanding.Stop The Hate5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I thought you were accepting.
I thought you were okay with it.
I thought you were let me be myself.
"You look like a lesbian on the prowl", is what you said.
Why are you limiting me?
Why are you suppressing me?
Why are you suffocating me?
I should be able to be comfortable in my own shoes.
I should be able to express myself.
I should be able to feel like myself.
I don't want to hide behind a veil of lies.
I don't want to pretend I'm interested in something I'm not.
I don't want to suppress something of myself.
I don't want to fake it anymore.
I just want to be myself.
Let me express myself.
Let me be me.
for you, for hope.i've been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, in fact, i've been diagnosed with a lot of things.for you, for hope.5 years ago in Letters More Like This
before, it was manic depression with bipolar tendencies or dysthymia; before that, it was chronic depression; before that, it was an anxiety disorder and before all of that, i was just a troubled child.
i'm writing this, not to ask for empathy or sympathy, but to simply provide hope in others: hope in you. i'm a survivor of the wildest war: my own, a battle between mind, body and soul. i've had my entire view of reality get turned upside down and shoved down my throat. i've had all of my dreams shattered against my own bones and all my hope torn apart at the hands of the ones i loved the most
but i'm still here, i'm alive and breathing and so are you.
here, i hand to you, all my deepest secrets. i hand to the world, my painful history that i'll finally let go. i won't disguise them in pretty poems or scribble them into hidden notebooks, but print them here, in col
EROSion"I'm bleeding Mama.EROSion5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Oh, can't you see?
Look closely, I'm bleeding everywhere.
All over your clean floor."
My mind is twisted,
wrenched of every thought and emotion;
I have nothing left to give.
They tell me to smile, to be
serene, not knowing the
the discomfort of my soul,
trying to slumber on a bed of needles.
Nothing is sacred anymore;
no bond, no words, no emotions.
Nothing is the only thing that makes sense.
All that's left is confusion.
Confusion and chaos and
the fear that I'm never going to
crawl out of this.
flutter.i. there are swallows gathered in yourflutter.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
chest, tense and cramped amongst your
heart and your deep lungs.
they are safe, but they are unhappy.
they long to break free.
ii. your ribs are each
carefully strung together with
tattered, bloody ribbons.
you want to keep the swallows in.
iii. they are your only comfort, the
only fragment of normality
you continue struggling to
hold on to.
letting them go means
letting go of everything you know,
and everything you have ever been.
iv. the swallows cannot sleep;
your frantic heart echoes far too
loudly within the caverns they nest in.
they are exhausted, but they find it quite
When? When?When?5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
By: Stephanie Brock July 10th 2010
When will I be able to open my eyes,
Look past all the sadness and horrors
And just see the beauty of nature
While it lives;
Rather than always focussing on
When will the cutting stop
So the wounds will heal
Once and for all?
When will the suicidal thoughts cease
And leave me alone
To live a happy and normal life?
When will this depression
Lift from my shoulders and
Let me trust
The way I did before
I got a taste of
When will my dreams
Rather then just a
Figment of my
A Broken Melody.Why do you continue to sing the song in my heart so perfectly?A Broken Melody.5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Where I am just another broken chord in the beautiful symphony.
Is the song I sing in return not quite good enough for you to hear?
Why can't you sing that melody off key, just once,
So I may escape the spell you've captivated me in.
But no, still, your voice continues on in one long, sorrowful note,
Not a bit out of tune, calling out something so delicate not many could comprehend.
Why does that song you sing make my heart ache so?
Why can I not elude this grip you have so tightly around me?
I wish I knew the answers, for then my song would be stronger than yours,
And I could be happy, I could sing once again to the tune of my own heart.
But you still have me caught, trapped, defenseless against your intoxicating ways.
And once again, I can feel myself slip into the darkness,
As you continue to sing, sing, sing . . .
Numbers"You try, Byron. What's five plus seven?"Numbers5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Byron considered. Five and seven probably got along okay. Seven was a jerk, but five was a gutsy little fellow. He smiled. Five could handle seven just fine. Byron liked five. So together
"I am, Miss. It's . . ." Something pretty, but also quite complicated. ". . . twelve!"
TrapsOpen doorsTraps5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a dozen endless
p a s s a g e w a y s .
Like a whisper,
a million fireflies
scatter across the windowpanes of the lightless corridors,
h u s h - they're slicing sky in a senseless, slippery s