PainThey had told me how it was going to be.
I was to lie still, and let them do the work, but hey, I never agreed to not scream, did I?
So I screamed. I screamed as if there was no tomorrow. I screamed because the local anesthesia didn't quite mask the effect of the six inch knife that was now slicing its way across my gut, the blood flowing down the sides, onto the table.
"Clench on this." The orderly pressed down a cloth firmly into my open mouth. The dry cloth smelt, but there was nothing I could do about it. So I clenched, as hard as I could. I must have been clenching really hard, since I think I passed out.
When I woke up the bearded doctor was standing over me, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light that hung over the window. A sulking nurse stood on the other side of the bed.
"It was a successful operation. You rest for now," he patted me on the shoulder. Leaving, he motioned to the nurse, "If you will."
From the corner of my eye, I saw the nurse inject something
FriendFinally I can seeFriend2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Really see your heart
It is so big and beautiful
Even with all your defects
No one can replace you
Don't ever change
A Love Story in Four Actsi.A Love Story in Four Acts2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I loved a blacksmith once, back when the sand still clogged up my soul. It was only far after that I began to love the desert too.
Underneath the casual noise--glass on wood, heat-smothered conversation, worn cards slapped down in careful triumph--there was this low, thrumming quiet that wouldn't be broken. He spoke in sepia undertones. "We're getting out."
Hot iron smells like hot blood, like blood that's been poured out under the white Arizona sun. It's something you don't forget easy, like the taste of whiskey or the plasma patterns left on your eyelids after watching fire all night. It sticks.
My childhood was fed on medical books, and I've got this pain right behind my eyes and I wonder if this is what it feels like being lobotomized. Of course the brain has no nerve endings, but the hurt has to manifest itself somewhere.
001 -- IntroductionThere are times I wish I could start at the end. Endings are what people cling to; what we remember when the book has been shut. It's the ending we talk about with our friends and stay up until the early hours of morning pondering about. Perhaps that's why endings are so beautifulit is only then that we know the truth of all which came prior.001 -- Introduction3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
If only our beginnings could be as simple. What are we when we start but a blank sheet, ready for anything to be written. Some of us will be etched with beautiful design, calligraphic texts of love letters sent and responded to; others hastily scribbled upon and then crinkled up and tossed into the waste basket, never to be read again. Time can bring beauty or death, cruelty only as harsh as the quill decides to press.
In the beginning, we are all the same. No ink, no tears, no bends. We stand together upon a shelf, awaiting the first stroke of the master's quill to guide us to our eventual ends. We are pure, clean, and intact. Naivety is ou
Those Words "It's alright. I'm not going to judge your decision."Those Words2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
You're not going to judge my decision. You're not going to judge my decision. I appreciate that, I guess. No, I lied. I appreciate the effort. I appreciate the effort you made to tell me that you'll still be here. But those words, your decision, your choice, those tiny, insignificant words, sting. It makes me cringe every time I hear those words, and I hear them far too often. I hate those words with all of my being. No matter how much I plead that you don't say them anymore, I know that you still think them. I've spent bleary-eyed nights trying to tell you that it's not a choice, because IT ISN'T. I don't know how to say it differently. "I didn't choose this any more than you did. I never asked to be like this
Golden TicketThe candy factory? But I'm diabetic.Golden Ticket2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Love IsLove is feeling.Love Is2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shared between anyone.
Love is pride.
Stand up for your orrientation.
Love is shared.
Everyone deserves to feel love.
Love is given.
Something taken with flushing cheeks.
Love is taken.
Accepted and sometimes stolen.
Love is lust.
A type of love used souly to gain pleasure.
Love is forgiveness.
Another chance to prove.
Love is acceptance.
Taken and respected for who you are.
Love is pure.
Pure and clean to be taken as such.
Love is unclean.
Confusion and uncertainty.
Love is unexplained.
Simply something we feel in our hearts.
Love is love.
In any way or any form.
Nothing more, nothing less.
So stop labeling it differently.
Society Has No Say On GayYoung and in loveSociety Has No Say On Gay2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Over and over
We fall for those we shouldn't
Society thinks they have a say
But our hearts have other plans
Those who don't understand
Try to change us
They think that queer is wrong
That queer is curable
I speak for myself when I say,
I've loved many
But only felt right with a few
And one of them is a woman
And so am I
At least genetically
They're like water
You knock a glass over
The water is displaced
But it is not gone
You can knock us over
We will not disappear
Wrong isn't the word for us
Nor is unnatural
Try something like human
Some cells, tissue
A brain that contains emotion
Love, something that is involuntary
It is never too late to discover
To find out who you really are
something others should not control
Society is nothing without numbers
Let those numbers favor our side
And if not, we shall never back down
If I Were a PoetIf I were a poet I'd spin you a lineIf I Were a Poet5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
An embroidery of words etched in silvery twine
A tapestry woven of rhythm and rhyme
And stitch it all up with each tittle and jot
If I were a poet but a poet I'm not.
If I were a poet I'd cook you a stew
A lyrical soup, a most nourishing brew
With couplets for gravy and iamb for my rue
And boil it in a pentameter pot
If I were a poet but a poet I'm not.
If I were a poet we'd take to the seas
With paragraph sails and a literate breeze
And sail on our starship to far galaxies
We'd keep captain's logs of the treasures we sought
If I were a poet but a poet I'm not.
If I were a poet I'd write you a page
Full of musical wisdom so rhyming and sage
A verse to let open the door to your cage
And give you the taste of the freedoms you've sought
If I were a poet but a poet I'm not.
The Colour Of MidnightShe has a soul the colour of midnight.The Colour Of Midnight5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Not the midnight you'd expect, not the midnight lit by a golden harvest moon; a midnight the colour of champagne bubbles, of laughter, of comfortable silence. Not a midnight the colour of her hair in the firelight, her soft warmth and the promise of her smile; the colour of sun bleached sepia where memories are tinged by nostalgia, and you can almost see the morning approaching.
Not the black of a hopeless midnight, where you can't see the light. That's the colour of the night where the fog presses in on you, there's claustrophobia in the air and the bitter taste of fear and you feel all alone in the dark. That's the colour of the wild night sea, where you are a piece of flotsam floating on an invisible current, being dragged along to the shadows by the relentless tugging tide.
Not the cheap coloured midnight, with orange glowing streetlight, with cigarette smoke curling round make-believe faces. The colour of strong booze that clings to the breat
A SoldierIt has been almost a year since the war started, and it has been gettingA Soldier2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
closer to home every day. Three months ago, the fighting reached the shores of
our country. Last week, bombs obliterated the market section of a township three
towns over. People have been trying to flee, but there is nowhere to go. When I
woke up this morning, the air smelled like fireworks and was rumbling with the
sound of destruction. The power was out, and none of our cell phones or the land
line were working. Even on the radio, all we could get was static.
I am hiding in my house with my sister and parents; my brother is not
with us because he was drafted three months and five days ago. We haven't heard
from him since, except for a letter from the government saying that he finished
training and is deployed in an infantry unit domestically. My father says 'no
news is good news,' but none of us believe it.
The clock on my almost-dead I-Pod says that it is currently 4 PM. The
ground is shaking from explos
Don't Ever ChangeDo you ever feel alone?Don't Ever Change2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just because your different?
Do you ever feel that people just dont understand?
Just recently I came out
It's a different kind of feeling
Sometimes it's weird
But allow me to just make one thing perfectly clear
So I like girls big deal
So I like boys big deal
So what I like boys AND girls big freaking deal
Dont feel alone
Dont feel like your a freak
You are unique
You are handsome
You are beautiful
Dont change just because someone wants you to
You are YOU
Be you and do you because they is no other person who could take your place <3
You, hereYouYou, here2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The mountains are white
The grass is green
If now I had you
I would on your shoulder lean
I wish you could see this
It would fill me with delight
If only you were here
To share with me this sight
I will send you a picture
But the same would not be
But I will still stay here
As long as I wait for thee
Coffeehouse Bluespeople like to drown in their miseryCoffeehouse Blues2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because it somehow reminds them
that they're alive.
take the lady sitting by the fog-kissed window, for example.
see how delicately her lower lip quivers
as she downs pints of coffee like a drug addiction
when in reality, each sip creates fissures on her tongue
and fills her stomach with caffeinated liquid
she secretly wishes was cyanide.
or watch how the curious boy with suns as eyes
turns to face you and aligns his line of sight with yours;
watch how his juvenile soul becomes
a map of bones so easy for you to read.
suddenly, you realize a gaze could have never held
that much despair
i used to be like this.
except i drank ten times more coffee with a mild dash of ecstasy
and pretended to be the Atlas who shrugged
simply because he could no longer
carry the weight of the sky
on his shoulders.
this was until i understood i wasn't the only one who felt this way,
that adults who constantly relied on caffeine
and kids who were born with celes
........At work I tend to hear things from costumers.........2 years ago in Personal More Like This
I'm not eavesdropping I just overhead things especially if they are being loud or talking while I'm either waiting on them to order or serving or taking their plates. Or if I'm near them at all.
I try not to but sometimes I do, especially if it catches my interest.
Like what happened today.
A family had come in and sat in my section.
A mother, father and son.
So did what I'm suppose to do, what every waiter does: Groan, grab some menus and put on a fake smile.
Got there drinks, took their order and blah, blah,blah.
They were near one of the counters which is where I hangout when it's a slow day.
Which it kinda was so me and another worker just sat around and we were talking and joking.
Then something they said caught my ears.
They asked their son about school and he muttered. "It's okay."
He sounded kinda out if it, and his voice was kinda blank.
Tried shrugging it off.
None of my bussiness.
Then they asked how his girlfrien
my love(this is a true story and it was soooo cute)my love2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sitting here waiting for him to show up is going to kill me.I called Kyle earlier telling him to meet me here..i have to tell him.My parents are arranging my marriage,and I have a surprise for him.
"Justin wh-"I jump up and kiss him before he can finish his sentence,tears falling down my face.I try my hardest to look upset but it's very hard considering I am very excited.
"You're invited.."I say with a hint of sorrow in my voice as i hand him a piece of colored paper that says "Justin's wedding,,your invited!!"He takes the paper reading it slowly..
"They chose already.."He asks trying to fight the pain.
"Yes..the person is nice..funny..sweet..cute..caring..pervy..and I'm glad they choose them.."I say,looking at Kyle.
"I'm happy for you..I am.."He says turning to walk away,tears falling down his cheek.I reach out and grab his,turning him around so hes looking at me.
"I wasn't finished..i have a question.."I say looking him in the
(With You) Yes I can.I say I can't(With You) Yes I can.2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
You say I can
I run and hide
You find me anyway
In this world so big and so vast
And time running so fast you can barely see
The life that passes by
The things that I've missed
The stumbling and falling that makes me all dizzy
You say I can
And I say I can't
And when I try I am afraid, I'm afraid...
You are right beside me though I sometimes miss it
Your mighty hand upholds me
Even when I don't feel it
You are the reason I live
You are the air that I breathe
The one whom I adore
The reason for sure
You are the reason....
The fields are so big
I feel so small
The people around me with distinction so tall
I feel so unfamiliar
I feel far from similar
You hold my hand
Kneel down and kiss me
Say 'Don't worry about the things in front of you
Just pay close attention on what I can do
With these mighty hands of Mine
I claim O I claim you Mine
Precious of precious
Wounds, faults and everything
Nothing surpasses the love inside of Me
I love you
I love you
With all the wor
PersephoneI fed herPersephone2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.
With cracks in my heart
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.
Words like wingsI caught a bird, the other day. Opened my window, leaned out, and there it was, right in front of me. Almost like it wanted to be grabbed. Strange little thing, all bones and breath and that frightened heartbeat thudding against my fingers - and warm, warm as blood.Words like wings2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I cradled it in my hands and, fingers cupped tight around it, pulled my arms back in and tugged the window closed with my elbow. Not locked, mind you - just closed enough it wouldn't fly away the moment I let it go. Not before I'd had a chance to look at it, anyway.
I sat down, back against the wall. Opened my hands.
The bird stood there, balanced on the platform of my overlapping palms, tilted its head on one side and looked at me.
I looked back. It was a strange kind of a bird, all told - unblinking little black eyes, red-tipped claws, and feathers that, once I looked closer, looked more than a little odd.
It tilted its head to the other side, eye fixed on my face. Hopped closer on my palms. Spread its wings
it's a quick drive to where we live.I know you don't believe in beautiful things. In fact, I know you don't believe in much of anything. I swear that's okay, because what I'm asking of you isn't meant to be built on blind faith it isn't meant to be a split second decision. I'll give you the time you need.it's a quick drive to where we live.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Everything is brighter from the passenger seat of your old four door sedan with the black paint chipping off the front bumper, rust eating through the edges and corners of the doors. I've never seen so many shades and tints of green as I have curving around the sides of these country roads with you too fast, too slow, too here then gone. When you drive fast enough, the entire world disappears. It took us a weekend and all of Wisconsin, and you still won't tell me where we're going. It's okay though. You could be my home.
Lake Superior always comes in cold. The water laps at your ankles, freezing your skin, sending a quick chill through your bones. It reminds me of you with your too cold fingertips against
Slender ManSlender Man2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Keep away from me!" I yelled out, hiding behind a near by tree, trying to catch my breath from running," Listen I'll give you anything you want anything at all, just please don't kill me!" I pleaded stepping out from behind one of the trees, looking all around me. The man, or whatever it had been was gone. I looked all around making sure he was nowhere to be found. Once I was sure the coast was clear I ran as quickly as I could down the path. But it seemed the farther I ran it didn't matter this thi