The art of blacking outHow I wish I could say strangersThe art of blacking out3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
crept inward, night by night,
stealing my medication and
rearranging my furniture.
But I know it's not true.
There are holes inside
my head. Oxidation.
No one unlocks this door
but me. I am just
The White Parade: FinaleChapter VI: And on the Sixth Day...The White Parade: Finale9 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
His heart gives out in the emergency room. Doctors rush to fulfill their Hippocratic Oath. Intubate him first; get him breathing. Get the air in his lungs. While they do that, determine that this is the situation for the defibrillator, then get someone else to wheel it out so they can get his heart working. Charge it up…
The girl screams at the way his body jerks on the table. The heart monitor displays a sudden spike of green, stalling in its sound for a second before the spikes even out again, returning to the comfort of being a flat line.
She screams again. Again, there’s a spike on the monitor; again, it flattens out into an even line. They wonder why she’s still here. Silent messages get sent at light speed, even as thei
Heading HomeBitter-boned, I break and crumble to dustHeading Home3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My pockets full of keys to places that no longer exist
An oystershell ashtray full of butts and ashes beside me
Testify to dreams of green hedges and white picket fences
A tapping on the door, a rapping on the wall
Ghosts always like this hour just before dawn
A bird screeches and I wake again to the stinging day
And shufflestep towards home from a thousand worlds away
ScabbageCrust clings to skin, puckered edges spreading redScabbage1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
On elbows and knees, shouting out where you’ve been
Raised white lines across wrists indicate attempts
Salvation, damnation, maybe just blissful sleep
Fog rolls in your eyes, bees buzz in your head
You paint the world bright and colorful, sarcastically
Because all you’ve ever known was darkness
And you do like your primary colors to dream in
Walk down the street, head hung low, mumbling
Expecting nothing from the world, and getting it
Knives in your eyes and poison on your tongue
Born to be crucified; who am I to deny you?
Love does not conquer all, not the likes of us
Festering wound souls finding a moment’s solace
Before the wind howls our names again
I am you, you are me; together we are we
Briefly opening the coffin lid to daylight’s touch
You raise your head high for me, and indicate love
Clasping hands, we jump together into the maelstrom
Leaving two hearts carved on an aging tree
Why I believe Killian Jones is an older Peter Pan.In my opinion, Killian Jones is a hero in villain's body, in terms of him internally becoming a hero later on, when externally he has been a villain but will be a hero when he puts his thoughts into actions yet again.Why I believe Killian Jones is an older Peter Pan.3 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Also, Peter fucking Pan, he has to be Peter fucking Pan. Or life will cease to make sense in many ways to me. I'll digress, using connections from:
• Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie
• Peter Pan (1951) Disney film.
• Peter Pan in Scarlet by Geraldine McCaughrean
Major character differences: However most notably I think these small differences in his character details could allude to giving Hook a particular sense of originality aside from traditional Captain Jas. Hook.
•Killian Jones v.s. Jas. (James) Hook
o It was too noticeable for me to have not assumed it to be so first off, not making his name be Jas. (James) Hook, choosing to go with Killian Jones as a name beyond the title of Captain Hook. Though I'll admit that the name change could be d
The White Parade: V of VIChapter V: Four WeeksThe White Parade: V of VI9 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It’s a month to the show. A month. Four weeks, give or take a day…
“I can’t believe it. Prismacolor markers, pencils…oil paints, turpentine…brushes…” He stares at the bounty with wide eyes. “Where did you get all of this?”
I just grin and set down a bag full of canvases of various sizes on the bed. “I happen to have very good friends.”
Actually, Mac happens to have very good friends. Friends in places an artist can only dream to have friends.
“Are those the…?”
“Mm-hmm. I think someone said something about bringing in an easel later.”
“Really? A-an easel?”
“Mm-hm.” I open the window. A small breeze blows through the screen, but nothing strong enough to disrupt papers. “It’ll be easier than painting on the windowsill.”
“Yeah…” He goes back to staring at the
ConurbationConurbation4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
A city carved from rock,
or hacked from solid fancy.
It grows in the mind.
HollowdaysShortened dim days and long starless nightsHollowdays4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The wellspring, the windchimes, the starlings
Dreary tunes about razorblades, and ash, and bone
The lost man's song, the October sonata
The walkingman shoeheels clack empty sidewalks
Past blank storefronts and soapsmeared windows.
Summer is a distant fire, muted by mist, fog,
Hollow days are here again.
how to disappear completely1.how to disappear completely5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the only thing more surreal than walking into a mcdonalds after being discharged from a psychiatric facility is listening to the night not-rain after deciding that your life is over. the only thing visible is the lit pole at the end of the cul-de-sac, and the silence of the roof not being pounded by raindrops makes the air that much more colder. the only thing to do is to sit still and try not to think.
the view from the window is moot, nothing but moot strands of weeping willow and a mooting parking lot spilled orange by the setting sun. you decide it's facing north by the way the shadows are stretching and watch a man in a white dress shirt scratch the inside of his nose as he walks to his car. the bed is itchy, the sheets thin and the blanket green and peppered with cloth balls. it's too far away from the window to see anything even if there were anything to see. you sit down and wonder how you ended up playing uno with druggies and staring out locked windows.
SociopathIt's just a word.Sociopath4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's just a defence.
It's just a cover up, a wall to separate you from everybody else. It's just a veil to block out what's real, what's important.
Your eyes see everything except the obvious. Your mind picks up on everyone else's thoughts and feelings but not your own. You've locked them away in a safe at the back of your ingenious brain, never to be opened. It has a rusted lock. You claim not to have a heart because those with emotion are weak, you say.
Although it really just makes them stronger.
You see everything, but you see nothing at all. You are as blind as them. You know nothing.
You do not want to.
You do not want to because you feel fear.
It's just a distraction.
It's just a word.
UnformedUnformed4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
A gemstone, an egg
where the future incubates,
while the present sleeps.
I followed the trail of the moon across the skyWait. What smells like blue? Do you hear it, too,I followed the trail of the moon across the sky3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or is it in my head with the brainworms?
I lost Ladybug Joanie in the abyss, I told her
not to look.
Some days are not days at all, but extensions
Some people never see the day.
I see it, but it's always far away, just
out of reach.
Sometimes blue smells like you.
Sometimes, time does not exist.
Sometimes, I do not exist.
Peter Pan"There could not have been a lovelier sight, but there was no-one to see it "Peter Pan4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Peter flew away from Wendy's window, flew all the way to the Big Ben clock tower. He landed on the ledge, head bowed, legs dangling over the rim. He heard a soft sparkling noise beside him and looked up at Tinkerbell floating beside him.
"Hello Tink." He said, looking at her uncertainly. She spoke sadly and landed on Peter's finger.
"I know Tink, but I have to."
She sighed and nodded, flying up close to his face and pressed her tiny lips against his cheek.
'Goodbye' she waved.
"Goodbye." He said as she fluttered away.
He stood looking through the living room window, a man and woman sat in silence staring at the flames. With a deep breath Peter moved to the front door and rang the bell.
After a few moments, the door creaked open slowly. The woman stood there, staring dumbstruck at a boy she'd lost long ago.
"P-Peter?" She asked, not daring to believe her eyes.
"Yes Mother, it's me."
CharlieCharlie couldn't dance anymore. His legs went bad, arthritis in the knees. It was a real tragedy, because Charlie always enjoyed the attention his dancing brought. It was the one thing that he could do well, and now it was gone. He'd never been much of a singer, and it was rather pitiful to hear him trying now, trying anything to grab the spotlight just a little longer. Charlie could feel death, and it wasn't far away. He couldn't speak about it to anyone but me, because it wasn't something you went around telling people. But he knew it was near, he told me. I was his confidant. Why? I don't know. He just took a liking to me for some reason. I was as young as you are when I first met him, when I was sneaking into bars and badgering people for drinks. Charlie always bought me one.Charlie3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Charlie hobbled off the stage with his cane to a smattering of applause, mostly sympathetic. I guess some were drunk enough to think they'd just heard Sinatra. Mostly sympathetic, though. We sat at a table and
Illinois TwilightWords freeze and hang in the chill air, until they are broken by the returned silence.Illinois Twilight4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I only wear black now, a nod to the crows who carried you away.
If you cannot speak, a sign, then.
Something to give me hope.
A warmth to melt my words instead of having them shatter like glass.
It was warm when you left, my tears flowed freely.
Now they only crust around my eyes.
The cold clutches my soul, and squeezes.
I remember sunlight, green days, days when my soul took flight with yours.
It shivers in my ribcage now, held prisoner.
I never knew twilight could last forever.
Sunflower Field BurningStalks of sun ablaze turn heads down, shriveling;Sunflower Field Burning4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Smoke filled sky, blotting out the very thing they would see;
I pound the wall in helpless rage.
Soft ParadeDown the darkened four AM streetsSoft Parade3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Morrison leads the Soft Parade
I've had enough beer for it to be all wavy
like watching a movie underwater
Bridges burn behind them
hearses falling off into the river
The string of bad luck and trouble is almost over
gone quietly in the early morning hours
Not with a bang or a whimper
only an extended sigh and the shake of a rattlesnake's tail
I watch as always from my window
feeling the dawn aching to come
Things That HowlThings that howl through my mind late at night, while I sit in a haze of cigarette smoke.Things That Howl3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Things that pop. Barbed wire rosaries. Teeth. Dried flowers. Things that squish.
Clouds passing in front of the moon. Locks of hair. Decomposed frogs. Old books. Razors.
Broken televisions. Things that come back. Midnight phone calls. Whispers. Gibberish.
Things that remain. Spoiled food. Mold. Flies. Disease. Terminals. Dogs with sores. Things that cry.
Things that crack. Things that drip. Drillbits. Ventriloquist dummies. Stars. Shoes.
Things that howl.
Saviour SelfHand me down through eternity.Saviour Self4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Pass me from the beds of your tired hopes to the
cities of your aspirations.
Leave out your silly fears of afterlife
and calm me with your mortal need.
Sophistication has always been but a pretext to arrogance
that i cannot abide.
I cannot abide.
Pass me further,
help me hide.
Help me descend through countless eons.
Pass me from the tables of your dreamed-of bounty to the
fields of your lust.
Cast down your silly fears of this life
and lay with me in carnal greed.
Asphyxiation has alw
ThursdayRumors of tumors, chatty neighbors, the grateful deadThursday3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A broken swing on a deserted playground
And bones; oh, the bones that pile up, more everyday
Thursday I had nothing to say
A weak and pale moon glares down at the snow, impotent
Stars in motion whisper my star-name, calling
Tiny spiders build homes in my beer-soaked brain
Thursday I had nothing to say
Pizza or Chinese for dinner? I can't hold a thought
Craftsmanship went out on a three-hour cruise
Through the swamplands of South Carolina in the rain
Thursday I had nothing to say
A brass-toothed journeyer shines a light in dark corners
Nudges and pokes at the beasts sleeping there
Scraps of re-arranged words piled with the bones rot away
Thursday I had nothing to say
DescantDescant soundwaves bounce off of my foreheadDescant4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Seeking entrance to my brain they want to
wriggle through like high pitched worms;
Insistent, hungry, throwing themselves forward.
Long after I've retired they still seek entrance
How can I sleep?
BitterBitter-sharp and angledBitter4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The stake through my heart
The brightest sun cannot penetrate
The cold seizures as I die
and die, everyday;
but still somehow remain.
You only had to die once.
I've died a thousand times
since you left.
Dying is no way to live.