Gel-Ink Pen, Part II wrote a story about you,Gel-Ink Pen, Part I6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
about things only you and I know.
I also mentioned that kid.
The one dreaming about places he wants to see,
The one who uses words that sprout to great trees.
Now all these words, a forest they've become
but all the kid could do was watch from afar.
I saw him standing by the lakeside,
I approached him and asked him,
"why the long face, son?"
He looked at me and seemed oh-so-old
and his sad eyes pierced my heart like a thorn.
He said "I know what I'm doing is not wrong,
but it pains me that it is taking so long.
See that forest? It is mine!
But it is lifeless; no birds to sing,
or flowerbeds to lie."
I saw his point, and was lost in thought.
I replied, "I am something that many heroes have sought,
I could give you my blood to make you happy,
but we have to work together to make it happen."
He looked overjoyed, he hugged me and kissed me,
he thanked me and asked how he could please me.
I told him that his smile was enough payment,
though recalling that fills me
the first day of springyou are new in the way flowers are new:the first day of spring3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
brilliant green, soft purple,
the good smell of rain and soil.
let the miserable winter wind
chase its own tail for a while;
there’s something beautifulwonderfulmine
at the end of a sunlit driveway.
I am not Salvador DaliIf I was Salvador Dalí I would have swallowed paint when I was a baby so my insides could match my subconscious. I would have colored my kidneys lilac and the birdcage of my ribs white gold and the length of my large intestines all the endless blues of the sea.I am not Salvador Dali3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
If I was Picasso I would have packaged up my innards like Moving Day, vacuum-sealed to preserve freshness. I would have squared away my trachea in cubes, hung my lungs from the rafters on clothes hangers and draped a billowing white sheet over my heart. I would have slid my nose three inches to the left and flattened all three of my dimensions to meet your expectations.
If I was da Vinci I would have carved open my diaphragm to show you where you fit inside. If I was van Gogh I would have given you my own ear like a bouquet, so that you could carry with you what delights in the crystal chandelier of your laughter. If I was Warhol, I would have packed myself into soup cans and delivered the entirety of my being to your visio
Black and White (Afterlife Outline, v.2) I cracked my eyes open, allowing a paper thin stream of light to seep into them. My scalp itched from the gravel and dust caked in my disheveled hair. My left leg twitched, urging me to rise. Drawing a deep breath, I heaved myself into a half-sitting position, elbows supporting my weight. My breath caught in my throat as I drank in my surroundings. I clambered to my feet, stiff joints creaking in protest. So I was finally here. After waiting for so long, I had finally arrived.Black and White (Afterlife Outline, v.2)3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A single dirt path stretched before me. The path was the only thing I could focus on, as if my eyes were incapable of straying from the path. The rest of the landscape? Unimportant. Irrelevant.
Some might call my death slightly premature. In fact, I could barely remember how I had died. I hardly even remembered who I was. Even so, call me crazy, but I was happy that I was finally free from
The NothingsThe NothingsThe Nothings4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Once upon a time there were somethings.
Somethings where the little girl with the pigtails would come bouncing home talking to her mother about what she did at school today, how was her friend Jimmy, and oh! she almost forgot her crayons, but luckily Emily was there to remind her.
She would prattle on and on delightedly while her mother listened, her euphoria taking her higher than the moon.
She insisted on acting "grown up".
She would sit, straight and stark, and never forget to keep her elbows off the table and her napkin on her lap. She would always say "yes, ma'am," , "no, ma'am,", "thank you very, very muchly," and "excuse me!", over-enunciating the words and biting off the ends of sentences, so that to her they sounded sharp and crisp, just like her daddy talked on the phone, and she knew everyone wanted to be like daddy.
Her parents shared subtle smiles, hidden amidst floral handkerchiefs.
She became a butterfly, she said. She wanted to
Prussia x Reader - The Big PrankYou snickered to yourself as you watched over the Prussian who was asleep on his bed. The day before, you and some friends, including Gilbert, went out. Your friend, (bff's/n), made an idea into a joke, which you carried out. The entire day yesterday, you called Gilbert 'Your Awesomeness'. His head couldn't get bigger as you called him that.Prussia x Reader - The Big Prank3 years ago in Humor More Like This
When he first heard you call him that, he was astounded. You, (f/n) (l/n), had finally recognized the truth of his awesomeness! He would claim you as his minion and show you off to his brother; they held a bet years ago that Prussia would never find someone else to see his title of awesomeness.
Well, Germany was proved wrong, but as more people came randomly into the picture, the more the joke went on. In fact, (bff's/n) had come up with another wonderful joke. You were the one that would initiate the entire thing and she would just play along as best as she could.
You rummaged through Prussia's stuff as he slept soundly. Recounting in your head of
The most serious poem everPanda.The most serious poem ever12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Panda, panda, panda!
Her eyes scream fill in the _____.They saidHer eyes scream fill in the _____.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she has starving
little poet fingers,
the heroic hearts
of nameless protagonists.
But, she cries
tears of Saturn
on too-little-sleep nights,
& coffee ringed mornings.
They call her vanilla.
much too ripe to fall
with freckles on her
The AntiheroThe Antihero8 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Another day, another beat.
Get out, get out of this town.
Theyre after you girl, gotta run
and get out, get out of this town.
From porcelain doll
to cold-hearted bitch.
Metamorphosis of the year
well it goes to me. Yeah,
It goes to me, baby.
I loved you. You hear that?
Yeah, I can feel too.
Put your hand to my chest
Yeah, I can hurt too.
The words I never said
were the only ones that mattered.
Swallow em with a shot of whiskey
and Im back, back to being me
your neighbourhood antihero.
brass rings and electric tape.
Aint gonna forget you.
No, aint gonna let that happen.
Time to make a move.
Aint he handsome now?
Dont you love him?
Blue eyes, black hair.
Black and blue
fade to black
and Im on the run.
So stop, stare, and cry.
Cause you can have your hero
Any day you want
youre the heroine.
Youve got it made.
And me? Well,
no heroine wants the antihero.
You Know...-You know...-You Know...9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
©Grisom May, 2007
I used to see you every night,
In my dreams, that is.
You'd stand there, smiling
Pure bliss you'd cause me
Yeah, some pure fucking bliss.
How was I to know your smile,
(So fucking perfect, that smile of yours),
Could be so utterly fake?
So plastic, so unreal?
Yeah, you had me wrapped tight,
Right around that finger of yours.
I wonder, did you know?
How I would cry over you?
Over some childish,
If you didn't know,
Then this is me telling you.
This is me telling you how much it hurt.
Why did you have to be so pretty?
So fucking gorgeous,
So nice, so kind,
So perfect. Shoulda known,
You deserved someone perfect,
Like him. Ouch, sucker punch.
But I want you to know,
I don't hate you like the others.
You weren't like the others.
Yeah this was love –
You were love.
So no, I don't hate you.
Quite the contrary rather,
I want to thank you.
Because now I see,
I can see for miles and miles,
ProcrastinationMaybe tomorrow. Let's do it tomorrow.Procrastination5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No. Not tomorrow, nothing ever gets done tomorrow.
Then how about today? I don't want to do it today, but I will if you want me to.
Don't bother, nobody ever notices what happens today.
Okay.... Then what about yesterday? What if I did it yesterday?
Perfect. Everything that ever happened, anything that ever happened in all the world, it all happened yesterday.
Yesterday. Do it yesterday.
Purest love. SasuNaru.Purest love. SasuNaru.6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"I love you.." The voice murmured looking back at the Uzumaki. His emotions reflecting back in the others sapphire blue orbs.
".. I know, teme.." The blonde smiled, the grass swaying gently in the wind, brushing against the boys sun kissed flesh.
The Uchiha slipped a deep sigh from his lungs, parting his lips as his eyes fell shut, he was hesitant.
".. Mnh, what is it, teme?" The blond blinked obliviously. He was so pure of heart, so innocent. The raven haired boy sighed, looking at the scenery, His eyes trailing up, looking at the blue sky. The setting couldn't have been more perfect. Sitting innocently in a grass field, surrounded by trees, clear sky & birds singing.
".. Look, lets be brief.. I don't.. really like to open up... dobe." The boy murmured, struggling to find his words.
".. Eh.. I-I didn't ask--" The blonde responded, unable to finish his sentence as the other interrupted.
"Shh! I'm trying to tell you something, loser.." The Uchiha seethed in annoyance. Sasuk
Reynardine...Reynardine...4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Thick intoxicated words clumsily lick at my naïve ears
Words you never meant to mean
Questions never meant to be asked
Answers never quite existing.
A hollow shell of an assumption I never should of made
A contradiction of thought and a backlash of heated words
Made warm by the quick hot blush of shamed defeat.
You were beautiful once, in your liars suit
Taylor made with only the finest of facades.
I believed their may have been significance behind your loosely spilled words
But much like the faith in false prophets, your cup runneth over with little proof of their existence.
A Reynardine after mine own heart
Befriending me in a way I never imagined,
Deceiving me in a way I never thought you'd be capable of.
Your cerulean stare and half cocked smile that curled around your careful words.
An Aesop's fable of your time.
The fox and the Crow was written just for you in mind.
You were never quite the friend you claimed to be
And a sad shame that is.
Because I quite enjoye
of the ground-of the ground4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was Sunday night when Geo climbed into my room from the fire escape. I was painting my toenails and listening to the sounds of the city: police sirens, pulsating bass, the kids in my tenement running guitar riffs back and forth with the street musicians on the sidewalk. That was the year I turned sixteen and took a two-month vow of silence to honor the death of autumn. A premature snow had robbed the season of its delicate warmth and color, forcing the maples to weep their leaves into the gutters. All that rainwater, all that decay. How could anyone create when October was dying outside their windows? Pete and Jake practiced acoustic that entire month. The rest of us were too fragile to play in suicide weather, when the right chords might move us to open our veins.
Geo sat down next to me, examining my bottle of red lacquer. "'To Eros is Human,'" he read, and rolled his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."
I offered him my shoebox of nail polish. He selected a purple the color of opium
you've been gone findingyou come back hailing smokeyou've been gone finding5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and raining moss, hair unwilling
and a little crazed -
you are rifling through all the impossible questions
making philosophy professors chairs creak -
i can almost hear the pages
you've been gone finding
telling us This is how the world works
are laying thick
and clock sure -
you swipe at this wildly
you are saying
with the life in your eyes,
study with me:
the raining copper tongues
and frogs croaking bulbous
the furl of bark when it is stripped
you are asking
with your heavy wet sleeves
stitched in water-rust
I'm talking myself in circles,I screamed,I'm talking myself in circles,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"There is nothing
wrong with me, not a damn
I wanted to believe
the big dipper on my arm
meant something more
than sun marks & kisses.
But, how can I trust words
that slip through my teeth
as easy as breathing
when this star
has only ever learned
how to f
Story of My LifeThe feds believe I broke character.Story of My Life3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
T,T,4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the world is full of monsters
from perth to timbuktu -
they bark, they growl, eat lobsters,
but none of them is you.
there's herbs down in the garden
that grandma puts in stew -
my dear, i beg your pardon,
but none of them is you.
there's billionaires that joggle
like monkeys at the zoo -
their heart's wearing a toggle,
but none of them is you.
there's plenty 6 foot tall men
whose love i can't undo -
Juanito, Freddy, Dhaval, Ben,
and all of them is you.
WeWe5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On these days, so hot and depressing I think of you.
I don't know you...
You don't know me.
Sometimes I think it will never be, the future that is we.
Then I see leaves, rustling in the gentle breeze.
Flower petals, scattered across the ground.
Blue painted sky, and butterflies that will never die.
And then I remember you are there.
You'll always be there.
I'll find you one day....
And you'll find me.
And we'll paint the future.
Fighting Give inOlder brother head off to commit suicideFighting Give in3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
older sister leaves without saying goodbye
leaving little sister to wonder why
why don't we all pick up knives and swords and die
RauzungeRauzunge3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Von unaufdringlicher, seltsamer Schönheit ist sie, eine rostrote zierliche Ranke vor rußschwarzer Mauer. Weiß sie es? Sie, die Schmähungen und Kränkungen so viel leichter akzeptieren kann als ein Kompliment, das nur allzu oft von Trugspuren begleitet wird?
Wie ein grotesker Wasserspeier kauere ich unter dem Mauervorsprung, blinzle mir das Blut aus den Augen. Sie sieht mich nicht.
Rauzunge", rufe ich sanft, denn das ist der einzige Name, der mir einfällt und an ihre Zunge erinnere ich mich gut, Rauzunge!"
Ihr unversehrtes Ohr zuckt, ihr Blick schnellt herauf zu mir, während sie gleichzeitig einen Satz nach hinten macht, fluchtbereit, angespannt.
Du, Herr Spurlos?", sagt sie, als sie mich erkennt, Was tust du da oben?" Plötzlich verdüstert sich ihr Blick. Wie lange beobachtest du mich schon?"
Oh, nein, nein", sage ich schnell und spüre, wie mich unter ihrem durchdringenden Blick alte wohlbekannte Sch