*Mirror Image**Mirror Image*11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Old eyes searched a haunted image
With hands that shook he touched his face
Fearful he felt translucent skin
Like cling film wrapped on bones
Humbled he asked
'Who is this stranger?'.
I know this man I am sure I do
Time receded a blur
Friends from the past smiled in the bevelled mirror
With hesitant hand he touched yesterday.
Women with ivory shoulders
Pearls shimmering on beige lace
Red lips that kissed with ancient guile
Images teased his weary mind
While he searched the mirror for a forgotten face
'Who is this stranger?'
Updated 13th March2014
Space DementiaThe total darkness blinks in a shower of sparks from the failing electrical lines and boxes on top of suspicious wooden poles. Suspicious indeed, because one of them falls over and a battle begins.Space Dementia1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She is as shaky as the caricature of the shanty town this takes place in, shaky as long-term decisions, and the metal sheets her back is pressed against. Sometimes things catch moonlight and fire, and they glint off the metal. That’s where she sees blood fountain out of throats, bulky human forms falling into dirty water and others stepping over them. (These things can’t last very long.)
Something explodes a couple feet beside her - a foot and eight inches, she roughly calculates, she flinches. One ear doesn’t seem to work anymore and a ringing headache settles into the action. She’s not going anywhere (but maybe she’s rethinking).
A funny turn of events mocks her situation and gives her a gun, somewhere in the shadows, and all she has to do is grab it and shoo
HAPPY NEW YEARHAPPY NEW YEAR4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sherlock was already dressed and sitting in his armchair, reading, when John came downstairs for breakfast.
"How long have you been awake then?" John called from the kitchen, not even glancing in the detective's direction. Sherlock peered at the robed man over the top of his book and turned the page nonchalantly.
Sherlock's ears picked up the tell-tale chink of the kettle turning on before John started rummaging through the fridge for something even remotely edible.
"Sherlock, what happened to the fruit I bought yesterday?"
"I let Mrs Hudson use them for a pie she was making,"
John shut the refrigerator door with a snap and squeezed his eyes shut in silent frustration.
"So much for breakfast."
"There's a tub of cream cheese on the top shelf of the fridge,"
"Yeah, and would you consume an entire tub of cream cheese plain for breakfast?"
John just shook his head and turned the kettle off, tipping scalding hot liquid into his mug as he heard Sherlock turn
Loneliness- A Sherlock FanfictionLoneliness- A Sherlock Fanfiction3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Loneliness, n. sadness because one lacks friends or companions.
Some days are easy. He drifts along and fills the day with little nothings, things that don't matter, and he's fine. He tucks away his deductive sense and he is normal. Those days are okay, and he could go on forever like that, not missing anything from his previous life.
Some days are harder.
Those days are unbearable. He can't distract himself and he can't keep hiding behind a mask of normalcy. All there is are memories of life before he fell, of life where murders are imperative to his sanity and not tragic, where he and Mycroft can banter lazily, where Moriarty is a constant mystery, and where John is always there for support, and to show that he is not alone. These days are too much, and he needs to return home.
He is alone.
No-one would notice, would care, if he died. It is everywhere: he is alone.
Those days drag on, and on and on. Loneliness crushes him like a bug underfoot, and it's all he can do not
Stormy* * * * * * *Stormy4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A blinding flash of light lit up the dark and quiet sitting room of 221B Baker Street for a split second, and Sherlock winced.
The crash of thunder that followed was so loud Sherlock actually jumped and instinctively covered his ears, glaring resentfully at the windows as rain began pelting the glass.
He couldn't think like this. This was ridiculous.
And he had been so close to the answer, he just needed a few more minutes of peace!
There was ALWAYS something.
Heaving an angry sigh, he slumped into his armchair, limbs sprawled over the sides carelessly and head hanging off the back.
Lightning flashed across his closed eyelids, and he shut them tighter.
"Screw you," he spat hatefully.
The retaliatory answer of thunder was louder than the last. Sherlock opened his eyes and glared out the window, eyes narrowed.
"You wanna fight about it?"
Why am I talking to the weather, he thought furiously, his hands dragging down his long face as he tried to block out the din echoi
march.no matter how longmarch.11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the winter howls, the cold
will sigh into spring.
sleep and dreamevery ebb and flowsleep and dream3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
swims like a memory,
floundering or aching
the way they do
when sleep deems itself
king of impossibility.
(these are the times
i wish you could
love me long enough
upbreakunbelieving big lemonade eyesupbreak3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
salt stream tainting your choco latte
my facade rolling in fumes
fiddling pieces of nickel and copper
walking away, cold in a winter coat
there is no last goodbye kiss for us
only soft whimpers and pleas
i lost in the dull people noise
still i tell others what i did to you
was comfortably mutual and agreed upon
DivyaThis morning, I wokeDivya1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
gasping, sticky-limbed, crying
to an angel on the
that eclipsed the sun that had hid
from me, my whole life,
the spilled eyes of glasses,
my shy and foolish utterings
that struggled to suffice
under the weight of its
wings, a smooth moon of
white, the earnest
bowl of roses that cut like
jewels, bright stoppers in the
mouth - I lay there
legs open to the ceiling
mouthing my sincerities, tongue
startled by my angel, lips
hitching at silk, thumbing
for a ride
To Him, With Loveintimacy is airing outTo Him, With Love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
those facts you have held
allowing someone else
to draw his own conclusions about
your vain pursuits of existence.
8.11.12Last night I dreamt; the moon waxed full,8.11.122 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pregnant and four times her size.
Earthbound, I watched as she birthed
planetary satellites orbiting her swollen mass
as they suckled hungrily on nearby stars.
You led me to the devil's playground,
and we swung so high that we could touch constellations–
our cocaine fingertips leaving a powdery smudge
across the skyline.
I called myself artistic nude,
resting in goddess pose, and you insisted we go clean –
We ignored the unrelenting pull of dark
and grey, drizzly days but nested in caves; shrouded by firelight,
dreamscape on walls, and
the feeling of sublime and secret love.
swell.YOU SPENT THREE MONTHS ON MY COUCHswell.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
AND I PERMANENTLY HAD A BUCKET FOR YOU
TO PURGE YOUR INSIDES INTO AT AN UNGODLY HOUR.
BUT YOUR VOMITING MEANT YOU WERE STILL
AND I'D RATHER CLEAN UP YOUR BODY'S REJECTION
THAN YOUR REJECTED LIFE.
alas, i cannot swim.and you over thought things. you stared at the concrete, and the cars, and the way the light reflected off the passing green car. you imagined how it would feel if it hit you. they're just thoughts though, right? nothing more. you tell yourself, "everyone thinks these things sometimes."alas, i cannot swim.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
you take an extra long sip from your coffee cup, seeing if you can wash your thoughts away.
you spill your coffee on your shirt. a chain reaction, a subtle change of scenery; you don't exactly know what to conclude from this event. you reach into your pocket to pull out your white handkerchief, only it's red now. your hand is bleeding. you don't remember this happening, but then again, you don't remember much of anything. you make your way towards the stretch of the city. you try to let its stomach swallow you whole. is this you? are you growing old? you can't tell if you're dotted with dandelions or soaked up in the city's sweat. you are no longer the man you thought you were, & this can only mea
ThrumHummingbird girl,Thrum3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your paradise eyes shouldn't
hold the storm in them.
I'll swallow your sadness,
wash away the weary gaze
with willow wings and
surround what survives.
Crystal boxes will contain
that ambrosial pain and wreckage
for you to laugh and smile at
when life's pages fade.
dry your eyes,
for this too
tidal motions.don't fall in lovetidal motions.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
over the ocean
as the salt spray tends to make the
photographs fade and
repetitive ocean waves
leave eyes tied
and leave minds to
wither and dry.
calamity.the poor boy got a lecture from deaths secretarycalamity.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"deaths busy enough as it is without walk ins"
"but it was urgent," he stutters.
"it couldn't wait, it was now or never"
he was simply told
"take a number, and wait over there with the rest
who 'couldn't wait' "
we were found beneath the seai've been meaning to tell youwe were found beneath the sea2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(i swear i have)
i'm hopelessly addicted to throwing
messages in bottles
and losing them
the milky way.
i had once thrown them across the mid-
-length of seas
but then you would
and leave them,
much like the nights you found
rhythm in my
i found your messages
(i swear i have)
i'm tired of shooting seagulls
and watch them fly
the milky way.
i had once chased them shouting mid-
-length of the sea
but then you would
write a letter,
throw it to me,
and windowsill sit,
much like the night you found
poetry on my
and then i found verses
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i thought you stopped
yelling metaphors to keep me
i just thought you'd
stop painting your dreams
on my salty
i wrote fabricated honesty
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i wanted to whisp
because magicians are the bestSo, when Magnus Schitz vanished inexplicablybecause magicians are the best4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she was the one
who found him in her backyard
hanging like a kite against the thorns
upset and unsure
of what went wrong out of ordinary routine tricks.
"You might need a new suit and, umm, I can't find your hat," her opening sentence ping-pong'ed off his tattered self while he dusted himself in a fashionable wave and said,
"That's because it's on your head."
This is a story about April who had the grace to look flattered and ashamed with an unexpected hat on her head.
This is a story about April except
that's not her name at all.
"Hi, I am Julie and we happen to have the same hat-size." She handed him an eager smile. But he extended a handshake, like comrades
as if they were high officials or politicians. (Try, military ranks.)
So, she shot him a side-glance and imagined they were signing up a treaty instead.
"That coat tells me you just stepped out of war."
At this the magician loo
riddance.and lately i've found myself swallowing matchesriddance.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
trying to burn my insides for fun
to distract myself from missing you so much.
its not working.
AugustAugust passed by with drunken gait,August3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lurching forward, sprawling back,
In drunken haze.
Days span by,
Loomed long, snapped shut
A mousetrap traipse, and
All along, all alone:
Nights and haunting,
Dawn and wanting.
the last four yearsI tried to read between your linesthe last four years1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you didn't know how to be subversive.
I wasn't socialized like this;
honesty isn't in the nature of my storytelling,
reality blurred into concepts and
spit back in too many words,
so I'm sorry I misunderstood
everything about you,
and I'm sorry it took me this long