durere, singuratate si dragostSi doare.. si doare si as vrea sa admit ca nu mai doare, dar doare atat de tare incat durerea insasi imi atrage atentia ca ma doare.durere, singuratate si dragost5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Ea...m-a parasit. Ne-am despartit. De fapt, asa s-a intamplat in majoritatea relatiilor mele. Totul incepea 'odata ca niciodata', cand eram tarat nu intr-o lume cu zmei, ci intr-o lume in care stiam ca nu am loc decat eu si ea. Totul parea...perfect, ca si cum un basm ar fi luat viata si s-ar fi transformat in lumea noastra. Apoi vine furtuna; ea imi spune ca nu mai putem continua, ca nu e ceea ce si-a dorit si ca sunt baiat bun, si nu vrea sa sufar, dar e mai bine asa pentru amandoi.
Eu.. acum sunt singur. Si doare. M-am saturat sa ies pe strada sa privesc oamenii, cand stiu ca bratele mele s-au racit si buzele mi s-au uscat. Si dupa ce ea m-a parasit am continuat sa sper ca intr-o zi se va intoarce, spunandu-mi ca a gresit si ca nicaieri nu a gasit unul care sa o iubeasca la fel de copilareste ca si mine, iar eu ca un fraier as fi iertat-o. Dar lemnul u
Through the Blue-Green HazeI am always looking up. One arm is raised in an arc above my head and the other rests in a half circle down by my hips. My face is fixed in an expression of grace and a hint of pride. Straight hair falls around my shoulders and tiny sea creatures are carved onto its surface. My hips flow into the shapeless form of an elegant evening dress, replacing what could have been my legs.Through the Blue-Green Haze6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Colourful fish swim to and fro, startled by sudden movement and sound. They shimmer in the sun's light, casting tiny dancing patterns across the ocean. When they swim above my head all I can see are shadows. Dancing, twisting, turning shadows that play in this cool curtain of water.
Boats of all sorts float by, keeping the sun's rays from touching my skin. I see massive cargo ships that pass by in a cacophony of sound. I see sail boats that float by carried by a breeze. I see fishing trolleys with their hanging nets casting criss-cross shadows across the ocean floor. I see all this because I am always looking u
Scrisoare catre Alex IIAlex, îţi scriu din nou, deşi m-ai rugat să nu o fac. Mi-ai spus că ai treabă. Ţi-ai întins regretele prin toată casa şi ai început să le numeri. Când ai ajuns la 14 te-am întrebat dacă ai încercat vreodată să trăieşti fără să clipeşti. Te-ai enervat pentru că ai pierdut numărătoarea din cauza mea. Nu mi-ai răspuns. Ai luat-o de la capăt. Şi aş fi vrut să te întreb ce rost are să-ţi numeri regretele, dar deja ajunsesei la 62 şi mi-era teamă că iar te voi încurca. Aşa că te întreb acum. Ce rost are? Tot atâtea or să fie, oricâte pături, oricâte preşuri sau oricâte cărţi ai pune peste ele. Şi oricâţi de saci de gunoi ai umple.Scrisoare catre Alex II4 years ago in Letters More Like This
Şi Alex, de ce iubim atât de mult cerul? De ce ne alegem stele, le dăm nume ş
Church IncidentChurch Incident11 years ago in Humor More Like This
I was looking around the Church. I was sitting far back enough so that the most of the mass was lost in the high, painted ceiling, among the cherubs and the gold leafing. The people around me were looking for God. There was one man reciting Hail Mary's, one after the other, not listening to the words he was saying. One woman was sitting there, weeping quietly. One or two were asleep.
They would never find God. There was only one way to find God, I knew, and that was to be looking for him out of the corner of your eye…
"Aha!" I yelled, standing up, turning around and pointing… Pointing at a man with a dirty mop in hand, and an overbite. One of the sleepers had roused. The priest at the front didn't miss a beat. "Sorry." I told the janitor. "I thought you were someone else."
The janitor watched the embarrassed man walk out quickly.
"That was too close." He said as h
Scrisoare catre Alex IAlex, stau aici şi încerc să-ţi scriu, dar sfârşesc prin a desena jumătăţi de inimi, sferturi de petale şi suflete întregi. Deşi sufletele sunt mai mereu fărâmiţate. După ce le desenez, le colorez în negru. De ce? N-am idee. Închid ochii şi iau la întâmplare una din cariocile de pe masă. Mereu se nimereşte negru. Şi colorez în grabă. Depăşesc liniile. Mă enervez. Tai de şase ori după care mototolesc foaia. Privesc spre coşul de gunoi. "Dacă nimeresc, o să fie bine". N-am ratat niciodată. Şi totuşi, de ce nu e bine? Când ieri era? Când n-am pierdut nimic de ieri până azi? Când singurul lucru care s-a schimbat este numărul de bătăi de inimi?Scrisoare catre Alex I4 years ago in Letters More Like This
Cred că mi-e dor să mă joc. Vreau să mă joc de-a v-aţi ascunselea cu florile şi restul lumii
Telltale MarksTelltale Marks9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your bedsheets left wrinkles in my skin
That I trace slowly with the tip of my finger
(it feels so early, being up before noon.)
I watch you sleep, golden lashes brushing round cheeks
The morning sun filters through the curtains
(it looks like a halo around your head.)
A brief flash of my closet romantic
I unplug the alarm clock
(no need for reality to interrupt.)
I know you're not really asleep
That half smile, faintly dancing on your lips gives you away
(i know you too well.)
I let you pretend anyway,
It's all part of the game we play.
(like children we make believe.)
Your fingers tug at my own
Invitation and plea to stay home
(i whisper your name.)
I'm a coward. A masochist with your happiness
I'll leave before our "just friends" sham falls apart
(no traces left but memories)
Your bedsheets left wrinkles in my skin
That I trace slowly with the tip of my finger
(our secrets leave wrinkles deep within.)
Where to Play?Where to Play?9 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The nuclear blast ripped through Wembley Stadium, shattering steel girders like toothpicks and melting human flesh like butter. Ringo's head smashed into the concrete as the scorching air roared over him. It had been a pretty good day until this had happened.
Earlier, the make up artists and costumers had descended on the four of them like a flock of gnats. A touch-up here, a snip there. Mr. Wesely, clothed in a pin-stripe suit, was calmly standing by the door of the dressing room, watching the talent coordinator of PeaceAid 3 hop around like an insane monkey.
"We've only got 10 minutes!" she howled. "Get the hair right. No! Not the bowl cuts. More shaggy. This is in the Pepper era, not the damn Ed Sullivan stuff!" She turned to Mr. Wesley with an icy look of horror on her face. "They do know the program, don't they?"
Mr. Wesley nodded. "Of course. It was downloaded two weeks ago."
The coordinator howled in agony. "No! It's changed since then! It's changed!" she waved her data p
The Arms Of RomeI met Ed when I joined the Marines for the first time. Her name is Jessica Edwin, but in the Marines she was Corporal Edwin, or Ed. It stuck. She was tough and pretty, smart, driven, and two years older than me. I was nineteen and foolish. Somehow it worked.The Arms Of Rome5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
We got married when we found out she was pregnant. My parents were very nasty about it. They felt I'd somehow taken advantage of her. Good as raped her. Her parents were wonderful. They hosted the wedding, Ed and I wore our dress blues, and took an oath that meant even more than the one we swore to our nation.
Tiger was born just a few months after that. Ed's four year contract was finished, so she found us a little house near the base. She found a job, and she raised Tiger, almost by herself, while I ran PT, stood firewatch, crawled the obstacle courses, fired my rifle, shipped out on West Pac, and ca
ThiefAnother me, inside,Thief7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
who sees the world through different eyes,
but once a year
it comes out here, though cleverly disguised,
and wears my shadow,
steals my tongue,
until the world in shatters lies.
dazemushrooms and candles line smoky hallwaysdaze4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pheromones and dreams are the incense here
swirling fans and falling rain sing to the
night, as ivy curls around musty toys
and adele and anjulie duet
from crackling speakers lodged under books
glitter and pearls and a sun or two
float, cloud-like, in the far ceiling corners
colours invert and revert tactlessly
and my eyes, like in fever, grow heavy
and too hot, while ears pop and migraines roar
and I wake and sleep again and dream once
Mind F"cksI'm not hereMind F"cks7 years ago in Other More Like This
In my mind I'm not here
I see myself
The only thing I hate
And then I'm here
I'd bend over backwards
Just to know you
Even though I know I hate you
I'd bring us back to a full stop
Just to see myself properly
Cuz you said so
Not safeMy name is a fakeNot safe7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
My age is unknown
My location does not exist
Day by day I see men fall
I see buildings demolished
And cities evacuated
I see the self-indulgence
And disgust in men all around me
When they fall I am there
I see their bloodshed on the wall
I see brains spew
Im there when throats are slashed
I am there when everything goes wrong
I'm there because I have to be
I'm there because it's my job
I'm the one that stops the screaming
No one can catch me
Because Im a civilian
A civilian who has hundreds of jobs
The one who goes missing without a trace
I'm your best friend
Or your long lost relative
The one you count on
The one who protects you
I'm a fucking shadow to this world
Picking off one insignificant fuck at a time
I have no raw emotion left in me
Just the passion of murdering
I can take the life of anyone
Anywhere at any time.
Thats how fucked up the world is,
No one is safe and everyone is a target
To live you must hide, think the unthi
blasphemyin a Heaven no grander than a forest, He sat upon a throne weaved of ivy and wild roses; it was there He first touched the Universe, and it was there He came to find the thriving rock He named earth. absent lives were flitting about in oceans deep and dark, and He sought to make company, entertainment, using His vast power to manipulate these beings' path. they grew until they resembled His intention, but before the first man thought of the savannah's cruelty or had any thought besides instinct, angels were birthed of the Lord's passing thoughtsblasphemy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He would breathe and exhale
lights that cuddled like sweet birds,
tucked close for warmth in a simple
nest draped with their brothers' down
feathers and cotton brought up from earth;
amongst the soft glow of each new ideal
came a pop like an ember cracking this one
was weakly lit and stuttered its first words
in a hoarse chirp (humanity, love) before it came
to still with its slumbering companions.
in the evening, the lights
Driving in Florida Part OneI never want to see this again, EVER!Driving in Florida Part One3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Any of you ever having set even so much as a toe in Florida know that driving here is not at all unlike driving a Volkswagen beetle... on rocky African terrain with deadly gaboon vipers in the space beneath your feet, while fleeing a herd of crazed elephants, one of whom is in must and probably looking to hump both you and your silly looking pea-green beetle to oblivion.
This is not a dramatization. I saw something on the road today that I never ever EVER want to see again...
I was driving... around in circles apparently, because some of the streets in Florida make about as much sense as what would happen if you converted a Jackson Pollock painting into roadways. Some streets will just randomly end at a T junction without any signs and continue halfway up some other street. WHOSE IDEA WAS THAT!? Admittedly, the thought of snowbirds getting confused as all hell by it is fucking hilarious, BUT I LIVE HERE GODAMNNIT!
Anyway, I was driving and this is
Alzheimer'sHis house is made of crumbling slatsAlzheimer's8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of rotted knotted oak
and weakened joints.
The wind blows unfettered
through unshuttered apertures
dragging fresh sunlight in
and memories away.
Even on the clearest days
he visits the front porch
less and less often.
He prefers to explore
those rooms further in
where tide and time have yet to reach. Sometimes
he might be gone for a week.
And one day, too soon
(not soon enough)
his ramshackle dw
downpour.Drip, drip.downpour.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mother always said that raindrops were the tears of the people of the heavens, crying because someone great had died.
"Shouldn't it always be raining, then?" I had asked when I first heard this.
"No, only when someone great has died. They might not have known they were great, society might not have known they were great, but the tears still flow," she patiently explained to me.
"Did it rain when Ben-jay-mine Franklin died?" I questioned.
"Yes, it rained when Ben-jay-mine Franklin died," Mother answered.
I waited a moment, then ventured again, "Did it rain when Thomas Ed-son died?"
"Yes, it rained when Thomas Ed-son died."
"Did it rain when Rosey Parks died?"
"Yes, it rained when Rosey Parks died."
"Did it rain when Father died?"
My mother paused for a second, looking down at her clasped hands in her lap. She finally replied, "Your father isn't dead yet." With that, she got up and put me down for a nap, beginning dinner.
It did not rain the d
XTake this 'x'X6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
your future in a sweet forgotten moment
your solitude... stolen from you, by it
your soul. And forgive all your faults.
it has the power
to call your life to a hault.
Believe that right now, in a situation like this
An 'x' means much, much more than a kiss.
him.His lips were not hot, not burning with the curious intensity so coveted.him.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They were cold and inflexible, folded just so in that frigid manner, slightly frowning.
He did not move, arranged so on the robin's egg blue sheet.
He stared unseeingly, frozen hands cramped into a fist.
Neither his eyes nor his skin held colour.
Should his eyes be oceanic or leafy?
It took three and a half days to paint the statue.
Machine-Part SincerityShe once said to me,Machine-Part Sincerity3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Come. You be a gear right here,
and I'll be a pulley over there.
Together, we'll both obey
the lever's dream."
I lied to her when I said,
"I want nothing more."
i'd hate her if i could.anastasia is beautiful in the way of twilight on the rio grande and doves flying from caged fingers.i'd hate her if i could.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
anastasia is lovely with smoke-grey eyes, black-pearl-hair and a laugh that unfurls like fog. she is cunning with a witty tongue and spends her afternoons pirouetting across sunstruck-wooden-floors. she has a horizon-mouth thats molded into curved lines around piano-teeth and can make a violin weep with clever fingers.
and i am running late with a coffee stain on my wrinkled shirt and a scar on my bottom lip from putting my nose where it didnt belong. i am tripping over my own feet and dropping my purse and shoving back my wildly curling hair with dry, calloused hands.
i am here with my too-large mouth asking too many questions and painting the world with just enough cynical humor to make the romanticism shrivel in the corner. i am sitting on the pier but when im watching the ocean, im not thinking about how its turning into rain to splatter on orchids. you