IrisI think he knows me. He knows of my stumble-tongue in regards to spoken words in the moment. I can not help but to apologize for that fault; I have never been good with words other than the tangible ones. Even though I have told him so, I'm not sure if he knows.
There is never enough to be said. A picture may be worth a thousand words but a thought can be told in a million ways. A single tongue can only know so many words, and it has always been difficult to find just the right ones that would help him understand, ones that would even help me to know just exactly what I mean. So I tell myself what I think I know, or what I want to think, or know to have thought. I tell myself of the thoughts thought, the thoughts that dwelled, and the thoughts known. Here is what I know.
We are not alone. I can not single you out, because it isn't only you that feels this way. We are not alone. Through your Iris the truth attempts to defy itself. It speaks to you in words that call you a Nobody,
pretty droplets of love.you blink at the boy in front of you who stands fixated on an imaginary spot in the middle of the deserted field. eyes closed, he stretches out his arms, and the breeze caresses his arms lightly. and you suddenly want to be the wind, to feel every part of yourself draped all over him and his soul.pretty droplets of love.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he drops his arms against his sides with a soft flump, and he turns around on the spot to face you.
"did you know that i weigh more than you do?"
you blink again; it seems to be all you're capable of doing when around him.
"um, no i didn't know that," you manages to say before he tsks at you.
he gives you a small smile and you swear your heart tore out of your chest, flew over, and gave him a tight hug.
"do you know why?"
you can only shake your head.
"because my heart's bigger than yours."
you crook an eyebrow, and moves three footsteps closer.
"you see, i have too much love for you that it overflows, and i think it pools in my feet. my heart's filled to the brim, and i
she didn't mean to be a roseshe is the age of innocence, staring longingly at the sarcasm she'll wear when she's jaded, but she isn't quite there yet. she says she's big enough, old enough, but when she tries irony on for size it pools off her egret shoulders, on to the floor, and she must stick with secondhand sincerity.she didn't mean to be a rose5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
summer peach drips down her arms and she doesn't know what to do with her hands as she's dreaming, dreaming. head so high in the clouds she comes down in antarctica, confusion in her eyes made up songs in her ears, peach juice freezing on her skin.
when she lies in bed crying, her eyes perfectly dry, her hands not-quite-enough-enough fasten soft around the bars of her headboard. morning dawns red spiral imprints in her palms, pressed to the condensation windows, blood hello to the sunrise.
it's not that she's lonely, it's just that she's alone. small pale press against the worn fibers of the carpet, with only those lights on in the whole world and her face lit up blue with anything, though reall
Why I am a brain damaged godBecause a god should not fuck her prophet. Because I believeWhy I am a brain damaged god6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In abiogenesis more than I believe in myself. Because I had
Gore in my fingernails while I cried on the bathroom floor, and you
Rocked me to sick Heldigare's lullaby as the nearby bathtub
Filled with the blood of my enemies.
And I said, with my hair stuck black to the floor, drool
Wet on the back of my hand,
You must love me more than you love yourself.
You must love me more than you love yourself.
You must love me more than you love yourself.
You began to scream when you tried to clean off
All the blood. You said, maybe they're right to call
You a monster, savage child, Kali disease. I stood
In the backyard in a bathrobe where the hawks land
On my shoulders, the snakes writhe and fall dead
Into the pool. I said, if I cannot make you happy,
How do you expect me to save this world like
They wrote in their books, turn their houses into
Ash and the fields to gold. A god should not
Fuck her prophet.
And in this wasteland you are
fire and firei tried to bury myself in things like skin and paper but i just burned them all up. i just goddamn burned them up. and that's when i found out that i was not a girl but i was something more like a burning branch, a burning man. a burning man who finds the bread of your body and eats it. finds the wine of your body and drinks. i just burned them all up. i am fire in the way that i take and never give back.fire and fire5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i am always running on fire legs hoping the flames won't catch my hips or fingertips. my hair is short in the summer and my nose is cold in the winter but my feet burn like paper in an ashtray. i lose myself in the bodies of strangers and try to love their heat but my burning legs are lonely and loveless.
after burning my way through three married women and a pentecostal preacher i thought about the meaning of all it. brides submit and never ask and that preacher gave me five ribs (that is what he stands for after all). i knew the problem of all it and that it was i never had somethin
Take Away The Pain Zuko ran through the icy streets of the Northern Water Tribe. He'd been here exactly twice in his life counting this visit. Both times had been in pursuit of someone. But this time was different than last time. He wasnt after honor or glory. He wasnt struggling to gain the love of a col-blooded monster he had the displeasure of calling his father. No, this time he was chasing after something much more important. He was chasing Katara. He had to stop her from going through with this crazy plan of hers. He had to stop her before he lost he forever. Because if she left him, then with her would go his heart, since she held it now. He ran faster, his lungs on fire now. He had to reach the Spirit Oasis. He could only hope he wasnt too late.Take Away The Pain5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
About two weeks ago, Katara had recieved a message that the Ocean Spirit Fish was sick. It was a dire situation because the fish looked as if it was going to die, which wou
sUnLiGhT...Yesterday has diedsUnLiGhT...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the road's still too long
Waiting for the rise of the sun
That has disappeared long time ago
That has left me wandering blind with no stars
In a moonless night
Waiting for a shooting star
To make a wish for a better future
To make a wish for someone to hold my hand
For this silence to fade away
And all that I have
Is my faith that's fading away
Is my faith in the sun light
That will bring me up high
Once more to clouds
That will bring my smile
Once more to my tearful face
almost lethalI'm drinking you like pure mercury.almost lethal3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
On some certain days I ask myself; 'Can you really take all her words? Can you really handle all of her?', but till now, I'm not able to answer myself this simple question.
I think, I have to explain something to you (and me.)
There is this big, huge shelf full of thoughts and words and stories and memories and desperation and sadness and lives. (Most of the time, I prefer to talk about it as a shelf full of tea, but whatever it content is, it is full of you.)
I'm unable to pick a tiny box or even just a cup from there and then decide to not read it. It's simply impossible.
[To just think for myself became less favorable.]
Some of your things are delicious. Like a lovely earl grey after a long, hard day. Your words calm my soul and allay my blood. A bit of milk, two spoon full of sugar. Sometimes this is all I need.
But of course, there are also boxes with a patina of rust on it. Their labels are dirty and towelled at some spots. I can
Names'What's your name?'Names3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
'Why does it matter?'
'I want to know.'
'My name is of no importance.'
'My name isn't a part of me. It isn't what defines me. My name is nothing more than a label.'
'That's a very interesting way of seeing it.'
'Call me whatever you wish, it means nothing to me.'
'Your name is a part of you though.'
'Your name is as much you as the color of your hair or how tall you are.'
'Just something else for society to label me.'
'Not so. Something is only a label is you wish it to be.'
Thank You, Slater.Listen:Thank You, Slater.7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I used to go to the nearby campus coffee shop in the early evenings, armed with a pen, a blank notebook, and writer's block. The sense of loneliness was unspoken but well accounted for.
I always shared coffee-counterspace with the same boy, who never smiled or talked and who had a penchant for bedhead and argyle sweaters. He liked to lean back on his stool, balancing precariously as he read novels, and I liked to pretend I wasn't watching him watch me. We coexisted in quiet companionship, thrived quietly under fluorescent lighting which sometimes caught his thick-framed glasses.
His novels changed while my notebook remained the same; his dogeared copies of The sound and the Fury and Animal Farm distracted me as I doodled stars on blank pages, waiting for something that could not be explained.
It was raining. I remember that. His glasses fogged up when he walked in, his tousled black hair dripped water on my elbow.
"Why don't you ever write in your notebook
Knocking at the HeartKnockknockknocknockknockknockknock!Knocking at the Heart5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was still going. Like clockwork, every three minutes there were seven knocks. Over and over. How many days had it been? Cassandra didn't think she could take much more. How could he possibly have stood there at the door this whole time? Without wavering, without failing, knocking every three minutes!
There it went again. One minute.
Well that was different. Cassandra's head snapped up from where she was sittingslumped over on the dining room table. She blinked for a moment.
And then, "Cassandra! Out here!" Came a muffled cry.
Cassandra turned and looked out the sliding glass door. There stood her friend Annette, bundled up in a heavy winter coat and scarf. Was it cold outside? Had it been that long since she had left her house? Cassandra rose quickly and let Ann
ClimaxFive humble years he chased the beauty,Climax5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He'd fallen for upon first sight,
She dodged his love with steady ardor,
Inciting countless painful fights.
Finally she told him,
That she'd realized her love,
And the white knight let her hold him,
His lovely brown-eyed Dove.
But she lied to him through perfect teeth,
And she broke his sorry soul,
The brown-eyed gaze so full of "love",
Was really black as coal.
She used him and abused him,
For the sake of self-esteem,
And she left him picking up the rust,
Of what he had once been.
He Didn't Love Me.He loved me.He Didn't Love Me.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I loved him.
He broke my heart.
And my wrist.
He loved me.
I loved him...again.
He broke my heart.
And my nose.
He Loved me.
I loved him...I told myself.
He broke my heart.
And my arm.
He Loved me.
I loved him...I cried.
He got drunk again.
So I bled again.
He Loved me.
I loved him...I begged.
He got mad again.
So I got knocked out again.
He loved me.
I loved him...I lied.
I held my ground
Until he threw me on my knees.
He Loved me.
I didn't like him.
I locked the door
Until he broke the hinges.
He Loved me
I didn't want him.
I crouched in the corner
But there was no place to hide
He didn't love me.
I hated him.
I grabbed the knife
and he bled in his sleep.
The Police arrested me.
I confessed it all to them.
They let me go
But being a murderer was my true release...
He loves me
I love him.
We love our kids
And everything has healed.
I Don't Know, So Don't AskMy arms and hands and legs are cold, and I can't breatheI Don't Know, So Don't Ask5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
[but that's okay]
The room's spinning and everything looks out of proportion
[but that's perfect]
My words, and thoughts too, for that matter, are slurring
[but that sounds beautiful]
My eyes are tracking things beyond your view
[but that's normal]
No, I'm fine, don't ask.
19Nov09I washed down the last19Nov095 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of my lunch with
Rolled a smoke
and thought of you.
This plan of ours
But even if it ain't,
it's what I need.
You're what I need.
Now I'm cruising up First Ave
Praying that NPR
a thousand cigarettes
my daily pot and a half of coffee
and God's good grace
will get me home to
The Konoha Dance BallThe Konoha Dance Ball4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
From a bird's eye view in the blank white clouds, the Third Training Ground on the outskirts of Konoha was full of training dummies that were the equivalent size of a man, training figures in paper that were full of marks from countless shuriken striking them, and marks in the ground that retold countless training sessions. To the north, the Training Ground was surrounded by rough, shaggy mountains that allowed no sunlight to be shone except for crimson rays that managed to penetrate the mountain ranges, to the west and south and east, there was a massive foliage of branches that twisted all over, which concealed a lot of animal activity as well as hiding a woman in her teenage years, and in the center of the Training Ground two figures were about to battle one another.
Naruto Uzumaki and Kakashi Hatake looked each other; the power of youth was sparkling in Naruto's two blue eyes as he readied his leaf forehead protecter around the usual place it was put. Kakashi on th
The Library and the StarsIt was the oldest building in town. The amount of people usually would contradict the lack of noise. It was silent as a mausoleum, yet not as morbid. There were novels, comics and dictionaries filling rows of elderly wooden shelves. Today seemed to be especially marked by a dreaded presence, however. The townspeople would rarely leave their homes. Not because of the uncommon rain of summer on that day. But because there had always been a feeling of unmoved tension that lurked in the North.The Library and the Stars3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The boy was able to calm down by running through the collected pools of water residing in the dirt. He was running away. Going towards nowhere. He had entered, soaking, inside the pale and aged building, through the only door it had. All the way to the farthest corner, nobody was disturbed there. The boy thought as he finally slowed, satisfied amidst it all, for he at least found a good hideout.
The boy's deep panting scribbled on the blank sheet of silence. Outside the window was the painted portrai
Into the AbyssThe last thing I like my victims to see is me severing their soul from their body, it pleases me to no extent to know I was the last thing they saw!Into the Abyss2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
There's so much joy in it!
On this particular night I was hunting with the hopes of doing just that, hopefully I come upon him before those Pestilence bastards. Chicago was my territory and I had no intention of sharing, everyone else can fuck themselves.
As I sat atop the garbage can I pulled the photo from my jeans pocket and studied it, on it was a fat, balding white guy. He probably didn't have much to live for looking like that.
I was in the 'bad' part of Chicago where drug dealers roamed the filthy streets and everyone gave off a murderous aura, I loved it! I was across the street from the Legler library – where my target worked – in an alley; it's a late Monday night so he should be leaving around this time. The brown double doors opened and he strode out
Corpse Bride - SnowflakeShe remembers too well.Corpse Bride - Snowflake2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Whatever that darkness was, it's gone now, and it hurts. What she sees on the other end of the forest, beyond the veil of fog in her eyes, is pure sunrise; glistening ice welcomes it gladly, from the spots where the snow is still untouched.
When the sun is up, its beams feel like daggers in her already aching soul. This light proves it — how death is not the blissful oblivion she used to dream of in her youth, but a nightmare you can't ever wake up from.
There can't be liberating tears to seal it shut; there will be no rays of morning to cut through the curtains, no warm embraces to reassure her that it's over, that reality is much brighter and full of love.
This landscape is too cold to be reborn; no living hand is there to hold her icy fingers now. She already hears them, muffled and distant — the desperate wails of her mother, the dead silence of her father, when they walk through the dry branches and find her body.
If they ever will.
She swallows a mouthful
Let me drownLet me drown3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
It seemed as calm as an ocean could be
Almost as wide as the sea
With a mind that vast
How couldn't I dive in?
I guess that's why I decided to swim
So I delved into the deep ocean blue
I swam looking for you
I dove into the abyss
And I found this:
A snuffed out light
A heart that someone broke with all their might
A few broken parts
And some lost art
All of this caused me confusion
So I kept going to reach my conclusion
I wanted to see more
I kept straying away from the shore
After awhile I became lost
I felt my mind lose conscious thought
The water around preceded to choke me !
The lights grew darker so that I couldn't see!
I rushed to the surface to get back to land
But the water charged after me as I swam
The surface by then had turned into a storm
The ocean had taken on a horrible form
It consumed the sky and all around
There was no such thing as solid ground
The waves took me and dragged me down.....
And I felt myself float away
and begin to drown.....
The Witch HunterThe Witch Hunter:The Witch Hunter3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The morning is cold with a solemn chill
As the black wagon rolls into town.
The people are silent, like a funeral wake;
Their eyes never leave the ground...
The choked rasp of hindered breathing
Can be heard as he emerges from within.
The priest bearing the book of executions;
It is bound with the blackest strings...
Let evil be destroyed on this lovely day
The priest growls with a twisted grin.
He signals to his companion, who steps out lightly
This man shall purge this town of sin!
The priest then opens the book and waits;
His companion simply gazes into the crowd.
He looks as though he is listening;
And apparently the sound is loud...
With a movement as quick as a bolt of lightning
He reaches and grabs the arm of a boy.
The boy struggles and hisses violently
But the man controls him like a toy...
He places the boy on a special table
Forged and smithed from blessed iron.
The shackles keep the boy in check;
As he thrashes abo