Fraud and WrathDamn, I'm scary. ^^
Which Dark Force Of Nature Are You?
- Copy and paste, entitle it what you are and you might be more than one
- Read and fill in the parentheses with an x to which describes you best
- There are 10 questions each so look for what you rate the most
- If you could be so polite to send a link I am curious to see your results
You love the darkness, it is your sanctuary. Where most people are blind you have perfect sight. You use it to your advantage to prey upon those for personal reasons. You are silent, scary as hell, maybe even lethal, or perhaps you're just misunderstood, either way you are the movements in darkness.
() You are a good predator, maybe even the perfect one
() You like ninjas, no one ever sees them coming
(x) You like vampires, they are more dangerous in the dark
(x) You have always been the outcast
(x) You are the silent type
(x) Your senses are highly intact, especially your eyes
(x) Darkness is your sanctuary
(x) You feel or are misunderstood
nineariel stole your breath more than i ever did -nine2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when my heart was thudding between your lungs,
because that was the only safe place, or so i was told
i can't remember when my heart caught the fever
for you had guarded it with your own ribcage for so long
my memories melded between your synapses and
we became one
philosophy has lost its appealYour absence isn't the elephant in the room;philosophy has lost its appeal3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It’s the invisible parasites lounging in the floorboards
Just writhing for a taste of lonely flesh.
My repaired left half is gone;
Without you, I’m faulty once more:
The half-blind broken wind-up doll is here again.
There aren't words to describe the emptiness:
just return soon.
tencourage must be a dominant trait,ten2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for how else could you handle
a pin-pulled grenade
with such delicacy
elevenyou don't seem brokeneleven2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
until after you've splintered
and someone else
meticulously pieces you
a slice of realismhe cradled the neo-cities in his hands,a slice of realism1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
impenetrable (perfection like you're not)
inescapable (irrationality your most wicked foe)
an insignificant speck
in the graveyard of the
most desolate metropolis,
the remaining ghosts
caress my every moment -
living and dead -
and strip me away
till i am nothing
but the sum of my fears
and a husk
a grief-stricken moonseti collect small detailsa grief-stricken moonset2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your denim smile
(the smirk i could never learn to unravel...sexsexsex)
your wheat-shocked hair
(my gasoline hands cauterizing the fields, smoldering with adoration)
your sandpaper-husky voice
(you siren-sing to me in dreams, preserved formaldehyde-perfect)
you keep me alive just barely
celadon whispers are never enough
to keep a bereaved heart thudding
like it actually has something to live for
emotions are the last thing on your mindtechnicolor promises were handed out inemotions are the last thing on your mind2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
though it was never the drug that excited me
it was the sleazy dealer with his ‘come-hither’ eyes
and reeking sex-danger-stay-back cologne
his scent performing a flamenco through my blood network
he held my trembling hand while my world inverted its rotation
but left while my eyes turned from gold to blackened crimson
she who eats the light, he who commands the deadThe queen of the dead waits vigilantly for her lord on his bone-erected throne. She smiles, hooking her legs over the arm of the throne, and simply wills time to move quicker. When her lord finally stumbles in, exhausted from keeping souls in line, she merely rises and moves to his side, looping an arm around his waist to support him.she who eats the light, he who commands the dead2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Forget the servants tonight,” she whispers, her sweet breath hot in his ear, and he nods, tired more than anything else.
She leads him to the bath, stripping his clothes away and all but lifting him into the hot water. She pours scalding water over his head, but it does not feel scalding to him. The underworld is cold enough that any warmth to be had is all the same.
His queen is the only consistent warmth, the only glimmer of light in the depths of hell.
She finishes cleansing him, the remnants of not-to-be-easily-deterred souls removed from his skin, and she lifts him out slowly.
“Come, my lord,” she murmurs, and he follows
too relieved to grievebecause irony made you her whore;too relieved to grieve2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
being bad isn't having intent,
it's all natural talent
(even after i begged
preacher's sons aren't immune to
the summons from fathoms below,
and he'll never come againDays pass;and he'll never come again2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The First AddictionI’m not sure if he’s dead or alive, so I’ll be careful with my verbs. I wouldn’t want to offend him should he ever find and read this.The First Addiction3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
His name is (was?) Eric Robert Lemke-Seastrand. I only had six months with him, but they were six months that completely broke my innocence and turned my world permanently.
He was born on January 26, 1994, to a mother and father that were not right for him. His mother would not fight for her son, and his father fought with him endlessly. When Eric was six, his father went berserk and committed a crime so ridiculously heinous that Eric and his mother were left abandoned in the back of a pet store surrounded by rotting animal corpses for days. The father was not seen again; he currently sits in jail. Child Protective Services came and took Eric away from his mother. That action brought with it a chain of foster homes that Eric did not adjust well to. The foster parents could n
holiness has nothing to do with religionwe consecrated the ground with a burning-earth kissholiness has nothing to do with religion2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(remnants of past mistakes secluded in the grove-next-door)
and numbered the stars until our brainpower shriveled into nothing
six thousand four hundred and forty-one(10366 kilometers, you remind gently)six thousand four hundred and forty-one1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
even from that length
ardent arms never smother,
grant me asylum
your voice resonates from
the tenderest of ghosts
i am old as the dawn,
caretakers far beyond my tenure,
yet your sighs
your butterfly kisses
tuck me in nightly
and i would not trade you for
spider-girl aches for you
more than she can say
in your favored tongue
how to become a writeri.how to become a writer2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
peruse catholic schools. stumble over
paltry naivete to fall in (love)
with the angelic crackhead. hook
his libel over your heartstrings.
invoke the attention of God you've
learned to worship. abandon faith.
enter the theater. extend every last
hope fiber on the chance for stardom.
earn the spotlight on a fluke. eradicate
fear with a giant's assistance. scrunch
him into your pocket. flail wildly after
he escapes and disables your psyche.
desire fruit from the tree of good and evil.
become this generation's adam. know
your ambition will be your downfall. coax
the serpent to you - just punishment is
its own reward. weep for the loss of
everything before - no more innocence.
love with everything you are
and can ever hope to be.
twelvespurning saintstwelve2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
was never your strong suit
but carrying me
from the rose-gold crucifix
'you were never needed
for this much of a sacrifice'
perhaps a few saints
will mellow into seafoam
while we keep our
Unseen BeautyHow can I describe the joyUnseen Beauty3 years ago in Romance More Like This
That crawls up my spine and
Ignites in my brain when I see
The most beautiful creature ever
Do not think so, but then again,
Have never seen yourself clearly.
When a self-image is viewed,
See only despair, disgust, demon,
An object, a thing, to be destroyed.
When I gaze upon the same visage,
I see hope, radiance, seraphim,
More of a man than most men ever are,
A person to be celebrated and loved.
Choose to ignore the God-given gift
That has been bestowed upon the chosen
A gift that normalities may never possess
But all I can focus on is that gift,
On shaping my own variation and knowing
That my gift can never be as fine-tuned as yours.
Believe that no one could ever love someone like
Yourself, that a monster has no real chance at
Happiness and love.
I disagree. If
Would only look beyond the outward appearance
And concentrate on the inner contents,
Would discover how many women consider themselves
unfortunate truthhearts beat better when they're brokenunfortunate truth2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fourteenmisery knits itself between my ribs,fourteen2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
compressing the sum of my fears into
a smoldering ache
i feel more welcome
than ever before
untitledGold abundant at your feet,untitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Heart ripe and pumping on your sleeve,
And eternal admiration;
To say happiness has evaded you
Would be asylum-esque lunacy
For you have nothing to lose,
Fate is on your side,
The odds are in your favor infinitely
Do not waste the gift you’ve received
no replacements or sellbacksTake my heart; I'm already dead.no replacements or sellbacks2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Love Is...Love is a foreign and dangerous concept once conceived.Love Is...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Love is naïve hope, easily breakable.
Love is blind, foolish pain.
Love is wishing, praying, yearning for what can never be yours.
Love is a double-edged sword, bliss and paradise to one side, but fall carelessly into the other abyss from the paper-thin precipice, and receive a gift of eternal heartbreak.
Love is endless pining, torment, and worry.
Love is a hopelessly botched mess.
Love is despising a person for allowing you to become this way, yet always singing their praises.
Love is consciously torturing yourself to ensure your beloved's happiness.
Love is knowing they'll never pick you even if you were the last living, breathing thing on Earth.
Love is a horrible act of human nature.
Love is willing to make anyone its helpless, unwilling prey.
Love is hurt.
Love is wonderful, blissful pain.
.i'm masochistic without realizing it..2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my mad girl's love song isn't enough
to hold your precious two-second attention.