I will never know, but I wouldTRANSMENI will never know, but I would5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will never know how painful it is to get caught in my zipper. I would take the chance, if it meant I had a penis and I could pee standing up
I will never know how embarrassing it is to get an erection in public. I would happily hide my visible arousal, if it meant I could get an erection.
I will never know the disgust of having to go to the doctor for a prostate exam. I would go and get an exam every week, if it meant I had a prostate.
I will never know the agony of being kicked in the balls. I wouldn't curse or scream about it, if it meant I had balls that could be injured.
I will never need to use a condom for the reason "I don't want my partner to get pregnant". I'd never gripe about having to use a condom, if it meant I had the ability to get someone pregnant.
I will never know the moodiness, bloating, and cramps of having PMS. I would not complain and I would try to deal with the agony, if it meant I got a period.
I will never know the dread of going to a g
Walking Through the LightWARNING!: YAOI/SHOUNEN-AI ALERT! DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ!Walking Through the Light6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Walking through the light
The called one opened one of his golden eyes sleepily, blinded by the mornings warm light. Looking at his right, he met Itachis dark, blank gaze, staring at him from his comfortable shelter of sheets he had absently made during his slumber. The shark gave him a toothy smile, before wrapping an arm around the youngers back as the black-haired teen scooted closer.
What is it, Tachi? he asked, resting his chin on top of the Uchihas head.
The prodigy didnt answer, preferring to bury his face in the taller males chest to hide the light. After a while, he turned his head to the side, eyes closed, a frown carved in his smooth features as if he still could see the hot beams behind his closed eyelids. Just needed to wake you up... Its late.
Late how? Kisame asked groggily, rubbing his eyes with a
bachHe had piano keys hidden under his porcelain skin. Ringing out bright notes as my fingers trailed along each, taking my time to discover their potential as individual entities before i worked them in a way to make him sing melodies for me... Thick ridges along his torso, sharp spires along his hips...proof of the beauty of human design. There were ivory keys every where my fingers could reach, every inch of skin held a new set of notes, a higher pitch or a lower purr... Yes. He had piano keys under his skin, tucked away from prying eyes and headstrong amateurs who would only disgrace the beautiful sounds /I/ knew they could make. They were there for me to play upon, they were there for me to tell him a story of love and lust and romance. They were only mine... Each stretch of muscle, each heavy lidded eye and every gasp filled night, he would show me those keys, baring his very soul laid down in heavy white.bach3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
FORBIDDEN TERRITORYHad Kisame not been so amazed and bewildered by the sights surrounding him, he would have been terrified for his life.FORBIDDEN TERRITORY5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The entire escapade had begun earlier that day, when Kisame was present at school, and his best friend, (and secret love interest) Itachi, was absent. Such a thing was simply unheard of. Kisame could not recall a single instance in his 17 years of existence when Itachi had ever so much as been late for a single class, never mind missing school altogether. It was as if the apocalypse was at hand, or something of that magnitude.
Classes came and went, and by the end of the day there was still no sign of Itachi. Meaning that someone was going to have to take Itachi's homework to him, and it would have to be someone that shared multiple classes with the Uchiha and knew where he lived. That narrowed the list down to Kisame, Kisame, or Kisame.
Still, Kisame had nothing about which to worry. He'd been over to his friend's house plenty of times before, and knew the route to ge
Pretty LooksHey, Hey!,Pretty Looks5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there she comes
that's what they all say,
as those nice and pretty looks
dazzle all around.
Her gift to all is always an innocent smile,
and an endearing look from her honey eyes.
Then she leaves ignoring their hateful words,
those despicable whips of lust only spoken to whores.
Her long bronze hair finds harmony with the breeze,
as hypnotized men follow her trail at absolute ease.
But no, she doesn't know of all the fuss she provokes,
and no, she wouldn't care about such silliness from mokes.
"She ain't that pretty",some would dare say,
and she would hear while staring at her nails.
"There's some reason why she's not taken",
some others would loudly mock about the maiden.
And no sooner had she walked by,
she wouldn't doubt and hurried to leave,
cursing those men in her unimportant mind,
wondering if they suffered of some kind of disease.
Being alone was her own choice in life,
knowing men like that would discourage any strive.
As pretty looks were all that mat
Decadent in BlueI am a boy,Decadent in Blue4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A pretty broken boy,
who likes to pretend people see un-city skies
and late-night wisdom
Behind his almost-owl eyes.
A charcoal-lashes boy who winds his watch
When no strangers are watching,
Who only feels at home when he has bare feet.
A boy, who would run away if there was somewhere to run to,
But has no choice but to be a doll in a chair,
Decadent in blue.
take twosuicide survivors eat stale chipstake two1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and sour milk.
this is a fact.
we all think we're past our expiration
No More War PrologueNo More War Prologue3 years ago in Humor More Like This
It had taken a good deal of time and a very hard knock to the head before Sasuke came back.
Of course, they had dragged his unconscious body back, so it wasn't really willingly, but if anyone asked, he would simply say that, hurt from his battle with Itachi, he teleported to the first place he thought of and that he had rather intentionally allowed his old team to find him.
Which was screwing up the story completely.
Sasuke had merely over-exerted himself during training and it was pure luck that Naruto and Sakura had stumbled upon him during one of their missions. However, his version gave him an excuse to push for his freedom - it would destroy the point of letting them find him if he left immediately after.
Of course, his excuse hadn't at all been accepted by the people of Konoha and Naruto had been assigned to look after him nonetheless. He was staying with the blond idiot whether he liked it or not, wasn't allowed on missions, and his chakra had been sealed.
creating something beautifulmy skin is raw red and wedding-white from when the watches' honed hands lacerated me as they melted, but i am no salvador dali.creating something beautiful3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
the writer says, i can feel the words with my thoughts but not with my fingers, and i cannot trust my thoughts because objectively they are not real. repeat after me: i will only believe what i have physical, sensual proof of. i will only believe what i have physical, sensual proof of. physical sensual proof - the writer says, i process that with my thoughts; therefore, there is no proof, no physical, no sensual, no reality, and no "me."
"blood" will not splatter my fingers incriminating crimson; "skyline" can't stain my palms abstinence-blue or offer me refuge in cathartical clouds;
but i can write. i can write something beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful i can produce.
to create something beautiful, you need a canvas: if you are no salvador dali, life will do. have your drea
You're Daydreaming, Tooi.You're Daydreaming, Too4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The end of your driveway is home to a lady made of twigs. She comes out at midnight and sits, stagnant, peering through her branches at your bedroom window. In August she is made of bones.
Your mother had a stillborn, boy, blue as the sky. She named him 'William' and buried him in the garden. The ceremony was legitimate, but you still hear him cry at night. So does your mother. After she carried him for nine grueling months just to have him die, she decided there would be no more ice cream in the house. If she was suffering, nobody was exempt. Still, you steal it from the basement, where your father keeps it in the ice box, and you don't tell your mother. She would just carry on, carry on, carry on.
Poor bird with a broken wing, desolate beside the waters edge, its beak just shy of the ebb and wane of the river. You did not find him before the cat did. Somehow, you feel you have failed somebody very important.
A locket of hair, saved from your first love, hidden underne
Te Echo De Menos - I Miss YouTe Echo De Menos - I Miss You4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Splash, splash, splash.
The leather boots of Quarter Queen, thirteen year old girl of Mexican origin, produced that sound every time they came in contact with the many puddles scattered along one of the main roads of the city.
It was said to rain only thirty-five days in a year in Los Angeles, and it seemed the girl had found exactly one of them. However, the shower that had taken the residents by surprise on that sultry August afternoon didn't stop her run.
Tu-tum. Tu-tum. Tu-tum.
She made her way through the passers-by equipped with umbrellas with the agility given by her young age as she held close two bags from the department store, where she jealously kept a mini-skirt, a yellow tee with a deep V neck, mascara and vanilla gloss. She shielded them from the storm with care almost excessive, for all her dreams of living her life like a normal teenager were kept in those bags.
A life that didn't include the bullying from her classmates, devoted to more superficial things
SheShe holds me back.She5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
She won't let me do the things I so desperately want to.
Her chest, her face, her voice,
They all hide me.
She has control over my life.
People don't see me,
They see her.
I want to get rid of her,
But I can't because she is the shield that I hide myself behind.
I want to be me,
She causes my daily hell.
People talk to her,
Never to me.
When I look in the mirror,
When I look at pictures,
She is all I see.
So I'll break the mirrors,
I'll burn the pictures,
Until the cracked and charred remains can finally resemble
sometimes i feel like a superherothe house across from my bus stopsometimes i feel like a superhero2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is a temporary funeral home, but back when the Yankees controlled the town,
it was owned by a family whose daughter rode bareback
twenty-seven miles in the middle of the night to warn her
rebel leader of a lover that the Yankees were coming for him,
the Yankees were coming, the Yankees were coming,
the Yankees are coming, John, get out, quick!
and maybe she tripped and fell,
or her red cape got tangled up in her stirrups and ideals,
because by the time she rode into the neighborhood,
the houses were already on fire, children were already
crying for their mothers, and her John
was already hung up on the gate as an example
to the other rebel.
the next morning, the Yankees strung her
dead body up next to his.
no one ever told them life wasn't fair.
maybe that's why when i first tasted lemonade
i spat it out onto the ground,
and didn't drink it again until i was twelve years old,
and feeling biter and sour and in need of a little sugar.
when i was little,
A Drug Named YouA Drug Named You4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I want to feel that rush.
I want a thousand wings to fill my stomach.
I want to struggle not to smile.
I want it.
I miss the hope each meeting brought me.
I miss the weightlessness at the thought.
I miss the sound of my name from those lips.
I miss it.
I need to forget all of this.
I need my confidence and joy back.
I need to FORGET all of this.
I need it.
I want you, I miss you, I need you.
...But I'm not so sure....Not anymore.
04the poet's teeth are wet with tonguelessness043 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
his audience is deaf to his throat
which is a cave where the sleeping rustle of
bats is as silent as the dripping stones by which
the angels are philistines
who have never seen the cavern in which
their opposite rests, tired
and damp, made wingless
from his lack of pretension
man is a slug which must be
guarded from suicide, which it
chases with impossible strength
and fervency, though his
body is weak and he is almost blind
the corpses of humans are small
and their bones stretch against the
tarp of their containment
like a screaming hand beneath a sheet
which cries into silent oblivion
the poet cups his hands with nourishment
and his audience, howling, crawl
over one another with the hunger of dogs
too violent to eat
he is recluse, and rocks at sea in his own sorrow
apple juice boywhen i was a kid,apple juice boy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i thought an apple and apple juice
were the same thing,
so every day, i would drink
a cup of juice and joke about the lack of doctors.
then my parents put a limit
on how much apple juice i could have a day, simply because
i was getting fat.
i didn’t understand why my parents were being so mean.
when i was younger, i didn’t care if i got fat or not.
i didn’t really know what fat was,
but i knew that
oreos and apple juice tasted good.
i couldn’t wrap my head around the fact
that these things that tasted so good
were so bad for me.
i haven’t thought about this in years, because
when you grow up you forget things
or remember things all wrong or you
finally figure out what fat means and spend the
time you could be guzzling apple juice
standing on a scale and pushing apart your thighs.
but then you kissed me tonight
and i opened my mouth by accident
and you tasted good,
like apple juice at eleven in the morning
or oreos that have been soaking i
Sleepless in WinterShe stares at the ceilingSleepless in Winter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wondering once again
Why the sleep is not coming
She loathes it
How she wakes up every morning
Without having closed her eyes
It gets frustrating
And she cries a lot
But no one is there to hear it
'Just walk your own path, don't mind us'
They have said and she has listened
Even though that has only made her more lonely
She likes to read sad stories
She likes to dwell on them
Sometimes her walls collapse
Her heart breaks
She picks up the pieces
And starts all over again
She is restless
She is lost
She is alone
Her thoughts haunt her
She wants to sleep
She wants to rest
She looks out the window
It is snowing outside
Her hands tremble
As she opens the balcony door
She closes her eyes
And falls asleep in snow
NooraNoora3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
~ * ~
Height: Five foot and four inches.
Weight: One hundred and nineteen pounds.
Build: Small, lightly muscled, nimble.
Hair Color: Auburn-orange.
Eye Color: Yellow.
Skin Tone/Color: Warmly tanned.
~ * ~
Family: Unknown members of the Gerudo tribe.
Friends: Shad, Renado, Link, Telma, Illia.
Love Interest: Shad.
Rivals: Enemies in general.
Enemies: Ganondorf, shadow beasts.
Pets: Aida, her horse.
~ * ~
Weapon(s): Short sword, bow and arrows.
Item(s): Small duck stuffed animal.
Other Skills: She has a vast knowledge of flower species, which she picked up during her years of travels.
~ * ~
Birthplace: Outskirts of Gerudo Valley.
Current Residence: Kakariko Village.
~ * ~
~Legend of Zelda Stuff~
Game Universe: Twilight Princess.
Alliance: Telma's Resistence.
Role: Escourt, back-up.
Relationships with Characters:
Link: She first meets Link in Kakariko village after he rescues Prince Ralis. When
growangel bones andgrow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
white water rivers of hair,
starry tunes and their
of distant siren calls and
and we have forgotten
the sweeping winds
that lifted us through
this nonsensical peace.
voices mingle and lisps
linger mistlike in shadows,
catch in our amber-flecked web and glisten
for the moment
as we realize we've fallen
through more than just memory.