introductionAlex has come to terms with the fact that his father is going to die soon. It hurts, but what can he do? Things like this happen. Alex believes that it won't be a natural death. He honestly believes his father will kill himself sooner or later. He can see it in his eyes, in the muffled sobs he hears when he calls.introduction6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sometimes Alex wishes he could ask his dad why he left. He was always told it was so he could get over his drinking problem, but as far as Alex can see, it's just made it worse. His father told him once that it was because he couldn't handle the cold of Melbourne winter, but he had done it for the past thirty seven years, why was it so much of a problem now? Sometimes he sits in his room and goes over all of the excuses he's heard. He wonders how his mother believes he cant swallow that bullshit.
His father doesn't usually call often; it depends on how he's feeling. The more often he calls, the more reassurance he needs that he still exists and that the world isn't
warmth of innocencei'm like a catwarmth of innocence6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
suffering a slow
painful, and tragic
because i'm old
and recalling our
is becoming oddly
and the sight of your
god-painted face, i can
no longer see the color
of your eyes
and the warmth
of your innocent touches
can no longer be felt
would it be tragic to say,
i don't even remember
merely the memory of a precious awakening
to an unfortunate parting-relationship
and merely the memory
of an aimless stranger
who invited me in
so darling, sing for me
and allow your voice
to cure my despair
as i slowly fade.
the devil, you returnedmy stomach tiesthe devil, you returned6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so tight my ribcage
will explode as i
the person i thought
i loved the most has
walked away in moonlight
with an intoxicated stomach
and red sunset, beautiful
funny, i didn't expect you
to pay me a visit from the
but yet, you love me
such much more
and god hates me
my dignity and
incendiaryit was the city -- you know, a self-contained organism, a microcosm of reality in which we all take part. it's like a play, with our very orchestrated roles rehearsed perfectly until we can pull them off as smooth as ice.incendiary4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
it doesn't matter which city, because really, they're all the same -- paris, milan, barcelona...lawrence, pittsburgh, atlanta.
what matters is only that we were in the city. i was myself, playing the role of a love-struck jeweler, praying i could find just the right gem to put on my lover's finger someday, and she was herself, playing the role of sara.
sara, my love; sara, my heart; sara, the snow beneath my feet, the ice begging for me to slip
but still, we were here. glimpses of this city swallow my hunger -- i might never eat again if this were my home, the way it filled me up. but the moment i broke eye contact with this entity, this city with its glittering skyline, i felt the hollows in me ache again.
it felt rig
Reflection.We fuck next to the haunted lakeReflection.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with mirror-ocean eyes. It mutters as it watches our
whispers, hears our stifled cries in the dark.
Morning comes with a weak
peering sun, hesitant fingers brushing
the edges of the sky. I sit
with my legs in the water, watching
you pack your bags and drive on home, rattling by
in your cherry red car that shatters
the blue miasma hanging like a ghost
across the lake, a fog that rolls across the reeds.
Ripples stream away from my knees.
I write letters in the air to my lover back home
in Australia, who probably dreams vivid red-pink-love scenes
alone in the darkness. I stare at nothing.
My bags lie on the front porch, packed
with a bunch of flowers sitting on top, the orange fan
a smile, a sneer that screams: How! Could! You!
I dont know how.
Sharp lancing pain, a soft plea.
Dont stop. Dont stop! The lake lies quiescent,
but it hides demons that spring
and seize. They capture my whirlin
social .collabsocial .collab4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he says stereos spit
because it's their job-
steel prisons to the songs
girls love, boys lust from
or pound hammers to
cinder blocks like
with their lungs.
drinking with their
arms enslaved to
so he pulls his shoes on.
starts taking steps
towards a hangover
sounds like a
storm rising, he says
sounds like three am
and no morning
sounds like the skeleton
in my flesh is growing
he eats a porch light
with his eyes becoming
smaller in the moonlight
bending to follow
his words to the mirror
to the sink
when he gets there.
the fall of winterthere is a full moon, haunted, hanging just above the clouds. kind of the like the pictures we used to draw when we were young; back when we all thought we were artists. at this time of night, i can't help but wonder if its the same face of the moon that watched you left.the fall of winter3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
but fuck, we're not artists any more are we?
and this full moon - it hangs over us.
it watches with wise eyes the fragility of your heart in my cupped hands, and it waits. and with weak shoulders, i watch too. time and time again in the dead of the night i watch the crashing of the white-tipped ocean over our naked bodies, clasped tightly together, and every night i wait.
but i know we do not resurface.
and, oh the moon. it waits, waits, waits.
while deep on the ocean's floor, light filtering through the near-black water down onto our faces, i watch you and you watch me. and we know that we failed.
but my dreams are not meaningful things to you, because my words have never moved you like music; never awed you like p
don't need to lovei drew all of my loversdon't need to love6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cut them out and gave
because nobody can be
as beautiful than the
lover i am inside
and the pieces of me
hung on my ceiling
just to greet me
in the morning.
your confessionyou tell me, "you're not so simple."your confession6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i ask, "why?"
you respond, smiling with
the cutest dimple on
"because you know how to keep me off my seat
and aside from that, your words somehow
make me smile."
the red pedals
dripping under your
skin makes it
so much more obvious
you have so much more to say.
"and.. most importantly, you can
easily hang on the sun when
dark rain clouds try to follow me."
all the spiritmodestly thaw deepall the spirit4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
now the shade
the lake, the moon
all its margins:
in an empty house
for weary hands,
for the ghost,
all the spirit:
i can't breathei want to cut offi can't breathe6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
oxygen like a wire
because that's how i
feel when i think about
i want to bury inside my blankets
and shed the tears i never wanted
to shed in the publicity of your eyes
because i'm too shy
to tell you what's wrong
ten yearshere we are, ten years onten years4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the world is still
the boy down the hall cries
for mum not coming home,
girls lay shaking, red eyed
on bathroom tiles; skin
pressed hard into bone
protests are now riots,
the youth come alive at night
blood stains on these men's suits,
cleaned by liars in government
stomachs bloat in starvation,
hands and feet lost in red dust
eight years old and raising children;
mothers taken by the cold
while helicopters worth thousands
hum gently overhead
and supermarkets in the west
destroy what we do not want
services for lost boys in
memorial halls each year
ring with the unsaid knowledge
that these men died in a war
that we brought upon ourselves
uprising in the streets and
bankruptcy in the government
television rings as a warning bell,
something needs to change
yet here we are ten years on,
comfortable and ignorant;
lost in our own boredom
wishing we could bring back
those who died this day last year,
but fighting a war for a drug
called money, power and
Heart Caught In Thornsi understand that trustHeart Caught In Thorns6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is a floating ship until
it crashes onto iceburgs
how can you expect me
to trust anyone who
tells me they love me
if my heart is already
caught in thorns and
trying to take it out
will just result to
me bleeding again?
love is morei will close my eyeslove is more6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
promise you sincerely that
love equals infinite paper-cranes
that can fly.
a pen at a knife fight.there is twilight in his breathing.a pen at a knife fight.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
legs like spiders.
eyes of sinking ships,
holding onto the edge with shaking fingertips.
is the water cold?
cold enough to stop air from flowing to his lungs?
auburn hair and a heart too big.
a pen always enclosed in a thoughtful fist.
words spill out one by one,
haunted by ghost nouns and verbs gone wrong.
the thoughts roam from behind his eyes,
make their way down to his spine.
there they hang with poems unread,
while monsters and verses stay trapped in his head.
an empty house can say a lot
of harder times and connections lost.
there he strums a guitar alone,
thinking of the girl he calls his home.
where coffee is brewing,
and they sleep in the same bed.
where together they fight the monsters,
that dwell in their heads.
graveyard music.i believegraveyard music.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is a poem
the clouds: the page
the stars: the words
is a sheet,
UndeceasedUndeceased3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's just a matter of time
Before I leave myself behind
I've almost pushed everything away from myself
And soon there will be no more reasons to beg for help
I'm slowly dissipating, and as this continues on there will be nothing else
I am just too tired
The ending is all I desire
I quiver as the waves of life crash against my hollow shell
Striking endlessly, and after living through this I don't even fear the depths of hell
Because being this strong means I've accomplished killing every emotion I've ever felt
This life of mine shall be undone
My era of hopelessness has begun
I could be so more much than this
I do have a purpose, yet I still resist
I yearn to have it all but I don't even wish to exist
So let the day of the rapture come
But leave me be, the lone soul who is numb
I contain my own apocalypse in my palms
But I will never release it, I
a story about a broken heartyou called the other day, just to talk.a story about a broken heart4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you were talking about your physics teacher, or something like that,
but all i could hear was 'i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry'
i'm sorry for hugging you so tightly when i last left,
and i'm sorry for taking your heart with me.
i'm sorry that my voice still sounds the same -
the same voice i would send you to sleep with at night.
i'm sorry i can't look away when you talk,
because i can't let go.
i am sorry for telling you lies,
even if i meant them at the time.
i am sorry that we have nothing in common anymore,
and that i can't make you laugh.
and you were talking about your physics teacher, or something like that,
and i was crying.
i don't think i can forgive you.
she is waving,my heart is shouting,she is waving,6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she is waving
but my mind is
but it always ends with heart telling me,
i told you so.
fairgroundon a fairgroundfairground4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the orange trees
in the lamplight
like a movie set
with no director
and so many writers
not in the shot
so life is a whole lot
like a carnival game
shooting for prizes you'd
never thought you'd want
then the nursing home hallways
smell like piss and you
always choose talk
over card games but
it's another day
of the woman next door
screaming in pain
which is hard
since you're screaming with her
every moment you are both
living and dying
which is all of them
all the paychecks broke and
borrowed. all the jobs
you kept and didn't keep.
all the epiphanies when
you suddenly realise you
only need to be
rich enough for coffee.
all the newspapers
soaked in the street and
the benches on which
you'd read. all the restrooms
you'd cry in or
throw up in or
stumble out of on your knees
until you fall asleep.
every diet you'd read
in all the magazines and
stick to religiously
for two and a half
all of them
isn't it a bit sadliving within a sanctuary, my arteries grow widerisn't it a bit sad4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
bones thicker and eyes wider - yet i am weaker
wood beneath my fingers, cracked and grey feels
as though it is not there at all, memories fade
into dust that settles and everything that was
becomes what it wasn't, everything that wasn't
is what was -
i clean so i don't think, and i write so that i do
ghost of anxiety past creeps up, awoken - alive
fingers grip the bare skin of backs, vision blurred
and words slurred, together we embody that which
makes us sick -
but we are already sick; off passion and love and
i am sick of your glances and lack of words and
my need to just to hold you, or him, her or anyone;
it has been so long since i have been held in arms
that were not water or wine -
i date things in case i die and people decide to
love me because isn't that what happens - when you
die people realise how great you were but it's too
late because you're already gone, so they read you
but it's okay because i hate everyone an
because i am a cynic today.todaybecause i am a cynic today.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you give yourself
with rain; a sign
we are fifteen minutes
out of town,
but we say
out of luck
to a map
(but it can never be
we are still
we will not find god here.
strange peoplethere is man i see sometimes that tells me he loves me.strange people4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
he wears a dress and has bare feet, sparkly nails and paint in his hair. when he laughs and he smiles and looks me right in the eye, and i call him miss because that's what he wants, i know it is only because he is not right -
but sometimes it makes me think, if he loves the whole world and is happier than the rest of us, then what is wrong?
there's a old man with a white beard to his stomach, who can't speak right and buys pink children bikes from the op shop with his change.
he has his free cappuccino with eleven sugars and lots of chocolate, tells me every day that he has a pretty girlfriend. he doesn't have a house and his legs are thinner than my arms, but when he spins his coffee lid through the air he claps and jumps like a child and sometimes he gets so happy he cries.
and i wish sometimes that i could be happy that way -
to love the things that no one else does, in a way that other people don't understand.
and you kno
love letters from a girli am dangling in airlove letters from a girl5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the stars.
i am slow string,
forgetting your name,
i am the creeping silence,
the empty air that haunts
your sleep. i am a fish,
sending you my love
as i bleed on the hook.
the ebbing ocean
stings with salt, open wounds
with the departure of my blood
is the departure of my stability,
and i swoon. i am a fish
on the hook, sending you my
love like a bobbing lure
as i start to stumble and