on and on and on and on
don't worry a tad smidgen I'm good to the last drop
these parlor banquet pleasures are no hassle to stop
even if I seem unsteady and on the urge to flop
I'm a long range thinker chained with a rusty knot
oh fudge, there he goes again being incomprehensive
not too long before his artistic image is offensive
misrepresented, his whole aura is one dimension
a tear drop squeezed from an unimportant invention
hypertension grips the barrel of my last intention
my aiming is sin, cursed be my death inception
so long he has been a sheep, with sore thumb colors
its selfish when one's self defeat inflicts many others
two universestwo universes3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
two universes -
John-a-Dreams dreams endlessly in a dead dimension
remorseless to the time wasted on baseless perplexing
the subconscious universe expands to greater planes
of contrived existence unaware of physical disdains
when he awakes, he finds he's lost track of the world
it has heard nothing from him except thoughts purled
a burning wish to supply both with equal attention
but his conjured creation justifies his own pension
it outweighs himself that exists realistically instead
so long he has been invisible, its best to believe him dead
dead to the world because he fancies more the dreams
where he can wine and dine anything that he fiends
he cannot deny it, he would rather live vicariously
instead of handling his universes simultaneously
An Untrained TouchAn Untrained Touch2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
An Untrained Touch
My fingertips take a spill,
covering your body, in your pockets they congeal
trace with pressure, I watch the blood resurface
daintily dangerous, and at the same time worth it
My fingertips take a pinch,
a rosy aftermath, almost similar to a singe
the color of your lips, now stand adjacent
subtly your body gives way, without misstatement
My fingertips take a break,
now I hold a firm grip, no longer I rake
palmed, static, to try and catch your heart
beats from beneath our chests tearing us apart
My palms break a sweat,
it's amateur hour, and I accompany a vet
this is not your first, and likely not your best
what makes it all worse, your rhythm remains at rest
My palms pinch a nerve,
myself stolen from movement, without a healthy urge
progressing sullenly, dare to seem brash
once was a thriving ember, now a single ash
My palms spill a way,
for me to get away, these goods are too used to pay
The Broken Child A small child,The Broken Child2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
She sits alone,
Waiting for a place to call home.
Bruises and cuts,
Scrapes and broken bones,
The hatred she hides within her soul,
The tears she cries when no face is shown.
A small child,
She sits alone,
Waiting for someone to love,
To pick her from the ground,
To heal the broken bones and cuts,
To patch up her wounded spirit.
The hatred she hides,
The tears she wants to cry,
Waiting for a place to call home.
Afraid of being hurt,
Of being bruised,
'Please don't break me again.'
She hums to herself,
Singing a lullaby,
A painful tune.
Heal my cuts,
Fix my broken bones,
Help me seal my disoriented soul.
The small child,
She sits alone,
A painful tune,
'Please Don't Break Me Again'
The Mortician's DaughterI OPEN MY LUNGS DEARThe Mortician's Daughter4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The air pained my chest, as I drew in a deep breath and dried the tears from my cheeks. The soft rumble of the bus did nothing to put me to sleep as it usually did. My eyes watched the scenery go by outside of the small window in my bunk.
I SING THIS SONG AT FUNERALS NO RUSH
He wasn't dead, and I had managed to make it a week without him. Yet, it felt like ages since I'd last kissed his lips, which had dried blood on them. I wanted to be strong, I wanted to be a man, but at last I couldn't bear to be without Ash. I remember those words he's spoken to me not more then an hour ago.
"I love you, and I'll see you soon" his sweet voice said from the speaker of my cell phone.
THESE LYRICS HEARD A THOUSAND TIMES, JUST PLUSH
I couldn't count the number of times those three words left my lips. I must have sounded like a broken record. Yet each time he echoed them to me it felt just like the first time he's said them. I remembered that time and smiled, though tears still dam
CCxJake - Make-upJake sighed.CCxJake - Make-up3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Goddamned make-up" he cursed in a whisper as he admired the towel he was holding in hand, covered in white and black make-up from his face after the concert. He had nothing else to use to get it all gone. At least all the sweat had helped him.
However, that didn't mean he still could get his face clean. It was all a mess with all the make-up they used. Especially Andy; he was always the one with more problems after concerts.
And it didn't help Jake to focus on his face when he had another one to admire. He was getting way too distracted with Christian in the same room doing the same. The only exception is that Jake liked Christian more than himself.
The adorable way his nose looked like shrinking when he sneezed, the way the drummer closed his eyes when cleaning his face, the awkward moment when he asked if he was clean already when he still had half of his face under make-up everything was driving Jake crazy.
Seriously, how could a man be so .cute? Men were sup
Black Veil BridesSilence rings out as he looks into the crowd. He glances about; looking at his band mates and realizes that they are waiting for his cue. He nods his head, and all of a sudden, a scream erupts from his mouth. He is singing, it has become automatic, the words flowing freely, and he flashes back to writing the song. The memories that inspired that song rush to the forefront of his mind and his old wounds throb quietly, a silent memory. He listens to the crowd singing his song, screaming his name, and looks about and thinks "This is fame " He looks at women he doesn't even know screaming his name. He turns his head to look at Ashley and he offers a comforting smile a smile of understanding. As he looks back out into the crowd, he thinks again silently to himself "The stage is my home " All the while, he is singing out into the microphone, having his lyrics screamed back at him, with not nearly a tune .Just words empty words. As their concert ends he opens hisBlack Veil Brides3 years ago in Drama More Like This