RevengeI never laugh.Revenge3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I never smile.
I never speak.
I am too 'shy'.
What they did to me,
It was too hard.
I wasn't strong enough,
In my heart, it is dark.
I want to see them bleed.
I want to see them cry.
I want to kill them .
Just let me try.
I'm not that weak,
I can do that.
I tell you what's wrong with me,
I am mad.
It makes me happy,
Happy, too see them cry.
I would just laugh at them,
And show them my insane smile.
Yes, maybe I am insane,
One day I'll kill them.
I show them how it is to suffer,
Who's that helpless child then?
They'll all be dead soon.
And they'll see,
see and regret,
everything that they did to me.
May.MAY.May.9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
It's not another question of whether or not
You're feeling like you're better when you know that you're not
Claiming that you're sane doesn't heal your brain
Like the flowers of May can't put a stop to the rain
And I never want to see another May again
Better than nothing
But I never want to see another May again
Given time we'll find what is right and what's wrong
It'd be fine, but some people don't wait for it at all
Just remember that forgetting doesn't heal the pain
Just like yelling at the sky can't put a stop to the rain
Really been something
But I never want to see another May again
No, I never want to see another May again
OlderTime is a lonely bastard child. I knowOlder6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how it feels.
I explore the spaces inside, moist hollows
where the angels once worked
their mischief. Strange
what you can grow accustomed to. I probe
the old scar tissue: smooth, numb
in places. I imagine I can feel
their shades, tactile afterimages: a zombie
reflex, a longing
for a longing. It pulls
at the center of my chest.
I miss the certainty of need.
I examine new possibilities, take
steps, show interest, craft a proposition,
cut a book deal. I have always been honest,
for others, even at my worst. I read. I write.
I observe, offer advice. Business is easy
to come by.
I have my way with words.
I nurture the spark, zap
it with alternating current, breathe life
into the old girl. She gags,
stutters for breath, settles into a ragged
purr. Obsolete and in need
of a tune-up, but serviceable. Not so nearly
HomeWandering on the streets tonight,Home4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
People hiding from the lights.
A scratch, it burns, claws so deep.
The truth is out there can't you see?
One step further in the dark,
You will always wear these marks.
You gasp, a shock, straight to the bone.
Oh please don't!
Leave me alone.
There is no hideout, no safe room,
So I wish, please take me home...
a ribcage drenched in dusti have your ribcage, you said.a ribcage drenched in dust3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what should i put in it?
i told you i'd always wanted a fire,
the kind that would fill my eyes with starlight
and pump my blood full of passion, but
you're made of wildflowers, you said.
a fire would burn you to ash.
you wanted to fill my chest with
the sound of a train, whistling
far away in the night;
with the sound of rain smacking leaves;
with the sound the wind makes
when it seems like it's trying to speak
and you wanted to throw in the
smell of midnight in august
and the feeling of sand being
sucked out from under your feet
when the ocean inhales,
and the strange little moment of
bittersweet joy you get when
someone else puts your soul into words
and you realize you're not as alone as you thought.
i told you that if i had all that inside me,
i'd ache all the time
and you smiled a sad little smile,
because you already knew that ache.
because you were a writer, and you ached all the time.
i've got it, i said.
June.June.June.9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
She can't help it
Just born- Just born that way
Where were you when
I needed you and
Where will you be when
I need you again?
She's a mess
Don't know why
She's just- Just lucky I guess
Where were you when
I needed you and
Where will you be when
I need you again?
Anthropomorphism for BeginnersI found Grandma on the street todayAnthropomorphism for Beginners4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
reborn as a rock.
I didn't recognize her at first
without her turquoise-rim glasses
or her always-falling-out-in-public teeth;
she was standing in the gutter on her bald,
Mom tells me Grandma's gone to nag God into slaughtering spiders
and taking the farts out of vegetables,
but if you squint your eyes and tilt your head,
you can see Grandma's crooked nose--
the one that she broke
playing badminton last year--
and the way her eyes crinkle at the corners
when she talks about cheating
to beat me at checkers.
And it's just like Grandma to come back as a rock;
Mom's always called her a stubborn old crook,
and it looks like Grandma's holding a bag of stolen money
under her billowing Hippie-Days shirt sleeves
if you turn her just slightly to the right.
I think I'm gonna keep her in my bedroom.
Just in case.
Funda-mental-sFunda-mental-s11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If it were to rain cats and dogs
Which is impossible, I'm sure
How fast would they be falling
Towards the death that they'd endure?
And since they aren't falling up
Velocity will be negative
Do you remember what velocity is?
The position function's derivative!
If one was to be thrown into heaven
Which is hard to do, I believe
How far must one be tossed up?
How much initial force does one need?
This problem is quite ludicrous
How would I obtain such a feat?
Did we even learn this in class?
Next year I'm taking Discrete…
X to the fifty-fourth minus
Find the maximums; it's on the test
So you better be prepared
Do you know what that requires?
Do you know what that means?
That is one heck of a huge number!
Talk about an extrema's extreme
Please graph the function given
F of X equals X to the eighth
No graphing calculators allowed!
And here I sit, losing my faith
Study! Study! Study!
No mistakes are accidental!
Pssh.. this cla
The Thing About ClichesI.The Thing About Cliches7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If this were a cliché,
A poem, or both
It would be about sparkling midnight skies and heartbeats and flowers and sex.
There would be oceanic eyes and rain that tastes like tears. Well throw in anxiety-riddled murmurs and metaphorical bullets and allusions to sharp objects for pity.
This is not a cliché anymore.
So instead I wrote about the flavor of emerald and the fragrance of April hope. I painted pictures of a perfect pencil, poised over a blank page.
If this were a romance,
A message in a bottle, or both
It would still be cliché, to capture electric fingers and longings locked away with skeleton keys, and drugs.
Wed find footprints in the sand and read angels into them. Wed collect rejected roses, tarnished rings, and hopeful held breaths where the tides washed them up, tie them up with ribbon, and cork it all away for someone else to worry about.
This is not a romance either.
So instead I baked coffee cake while it rained, and picked the wee
Eight KissesEight Kisses11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You can call
it emptiness, breath, epithet, or oblivion
or love, or the thing we can't
touch, while in motion.
of your mouth in me like icemelt water,
like a creek,
You're Not?You're anorexic if you're thinYou're Not?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're not? Then you're obese.
If you're different, you're insane
You're not? Then you're a fake.
If you're happy, you're hiding something.
You're not? You must be emo.
If you're dating, you're a slut.
You're not? You must have no friends.
If you're popular, you're a jerk.
You're not? You're a nobody.
If you're quiet, you must be disabled.
You're not? You obnoxious freak.
If you're you, you're wrong.
Then you must be perfect.
Chronicle Of A Buried Man v.3Chronicle Of A Buried Man v.311 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Am i blind?
i know my eyes are open...
...but i cannot see...
it's so dark in here...
and i cannot move...
my body hurts
and i can't draw much air into my lungs
i start tapping my surroundings
and i realize that i am confined
to a deficient and inadequate coffin,
but still...i cannot break free of my cage
and soon.... i will surely die...
in the meantime...i might as well try to remember
what path led me here...to this...
there's not much to remember actually,
my last memory is nearly minutes old...
so i have no idea how i ended up down here.
i can feel....the scent of the dirt...it's cold
that dirt above me, covering me...so cold...
i do not have much time left...
and all i know is that soon,
my end will come as a slow painful death
choking..in whatever little air is left
inside this wooden hand-made womb
meant to preserve my body with the traits of death
so i should perhaps start thinking
before dispair takes over
and my mind stops tickin
Starlight's Story Chapter 7She blinks a few times, adjusting her eyes when she steps out from the portal. NiGHTS still holds her hand and leads her out of the portal he made from his parloop. Starlight gasps when her eyes finally adjusts.Starlight's Story Chapter 72 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
There are several colorful balls spread along the grass covered ground. Several bags are stringed to branches by rope. There are even a few dummies made of wood, straw, and different objects that are hard for her to tell what they are, but the dummies look like rather familiar forms. The area looks like it is part of Pure Valley, but there are no nightopians or any sign of them. After seeing this Starlight rubs her eyes to make sure she isn't seeing things.
"NiGHTS, what is this place?" The bewild lime green maren asks, looking over all the different objects again.
"This is where I trained after I left Wizeman or more specifically where I let my anger go when I'm really ticked off." NiGHTS says. Starlight nods and notices all of the dummies look like the nightmarens NiGHTS has
Yes, My Name Is JoeIt's only a matter of time. That girl knows who did it. That bloody thing. That little girl, only six or seven. Yes, she saw it. That little girl knows who killed her mommy. She had walked in from school. Poor dear. She saw her mommy die. She knows every line on the dirty man's face. She know the exact pitch of his voice. That dirty, rotten man. She saw him hold up the knife. She saw him bring it down . . . six or seven times. Poor, little girl.Yes, My Name Is Joe11 years ago in Horror More Like This
She wasn't supposed to be there. The house was supposed to be empty. She'll never rid that image. That poor, little girl saw her mommy beg. She saw her mommy beg for mercy. She heard her mommy plead, "Please don't make my daughter see." The poor dear just stood there. Stood there shocked. She watched her mommy weep until the last stroke.
That rotten, little man, he grabbed her by the arm. He waited for the thrill he would get hearing her scream. That poor, little girl said nothing. She didn't even flinch. The poor dear almost found a comfort in
The Isolated SystemA cold morning stung the area like a stinging wasp and the small peninsula was lifeless. The only thing that was visible was a small yellowish tent near the lakes bank. It rustled as its occupants slowly emerged out of its warm embrace. The lady stood up and stretched out her arms and looked around. Not a single soul. With a sigh of relief she looked out toward the lake.The Isolated System3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Look at this view." She said looking over the steam rising lake glistening in the sun, "Isn't it just beautiful."
"Considering the circumstances," He walked up to her with crossed arms over his chest and looked over at her, "yes. It is very beautiful, Natalie."
"Do you think we will ever get out of this alive Herod?"
"We need to find food first. Hopefully, with this morning being as cold as it is them crazys will be slower than usual."
"Maybe some of them passed from the cold last night."
"Maybe." he said looking over the immens
Really old stuffIt was twilight on a cold autumn night, the forest's trees stripped bare of their leaves. Cutting through the forest was a thin, winding path that was overgrown with brambles. On this path stood a figure wrapped in thick furs as protection against the cold. The figure was a man, and he stopped to look up toward the mountains in the distance and was surprised to see something else stamped against the darkened sky. There, illuminated by the moon rising over the crest of the highest summits, was a castle, dark and lonely where it stood sentinel in the foot hills.Really old stuff4 years ago in Settings More Like This
The castle once was one of great grandeur, but had now fallen into decay. Ivy crawled up the walls, the surrounding trees were dead, parts of the walls were smashed or even missing altogether, but most odd of all was the unexplainable darkness that hung in the air about the boundaries even though the night was clear and starry. The tall turrets nearly touched the b
CotN EXTRA: TimelineNote: If you haven't finished reading Children of the Night, please be advised that this timeline contains massive spoilers.CotN EXTRA: Timeline5 years ago in Settings More Like This
1579: Rhia St.Claire is born in London.
1609: Rhia St. Claire is turned into a vampire.
1635: Rhia takes over the largest of the New England vampire covens.
1640: The town of New Prospect is founded a few miles north of Boston.
1684: Erika Allimark (Elisabeth Cooper) is born in the Massachusetts Bay colony.
1696: David Giroux is born in Strasbourg, France.
1708: Erika Allimark is Turned by Rhia St. Claire.
1745: The first known case of human immortality is recorded.
1776: The American Colonies declare their independence from Great Britain.
1779: The first Purge begins in Europe, targeting beings with mixed blood.
David Giroux arrives in New England.
1783: The American Revolution comes to an end.
Martin Gale is born in West Virg