Same Interests"Oh, Mike! Harvey wanted me to tell you that he was gone to see a client."Same Interests4 years ago in Romance More Like This
Mike Ross sighed heavily through his nose, how typical of his boss to leave when he was supposed to give him something. "Any idea where he went, Donna?" The red-headed secretary shook her head. "Sorry kitten, wish I could help."
Mike turned to leave, before turning back to Donna, wanting to ask her a question he had wanted to ask her since they met. "You ever work at a temp job?" Donna looked at him strangely. "I don't think that's any of your business, but yes. Why do you want to know?"
Mike shrugged casually, "You know me, just wanted to know." He quickly walked away from the bewildered secretary, trying to hide his huge grin.
Harvey walked down the row of cubicles until he got to the one with his associate in it. "Mike, everyone has gone home. Why are you still here?" Mike never looked up from his computer screen as he read something. "Doing work." He muttered.
Harvey smirked at his protégé as
Automatici.Automatic3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"So where are you from?" The boy leans toward me, questions swimming in his eyes. I smile.
"Oh, I'm from Boston."
"No, I mean, where are you from?" My smile falters as I realize where this is going. It's an all-too familiar conversation, one I've been having since I was old enough to reply.
"Do you mean where was I born?"
"I was born in China."
"Do you speak Chinese?"
"Does your family speak Chinese?"
He looks befuddled. I sigh.
"Oh!" I see the light bulb over his head go off in a shower of sparks. "Do you know who your real parents are? Like, your real parents?" My temper flares. I stifle the urge to throw something.
"You mean my biological parents?"
"Oh." There's an awkward pause. I have learned to wait it out, to prepare my next automated response.
"When were you adopted?"
"When I was a year old."
"Did you live in an orphanage?"
"Like in Annie?"
Rolling my eyes seems appropriate.
"No, not l
Summers Lost god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember.Summers Lost3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to sewer lines:
like a wish
on a dead star.
the feeling of gritted teeth
and fingers crossed
until they break.
like a scalpel
and a brick wall
against my throat.
and i was
when i said,
swallowing cinder blocks;
stuffing steel under skin.
on my cheek,
like book pages:
"where have you been?"
HUMANWe all have problems, it seems to beHUMAN3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
We all want something we cannot see
We all feel like we're failures on the inside
But outwardly you hide it like it's some surprise
We look at the cutters like their a mess
They don't know what they want so we all digress
But a problem is a problem whether big or small
And sometimes it's not even a problem at all
Like the child who is crying over a broken toy
Or the little baby laughing who is filled with joy
The mother who lost her very first child
To the teenager who's careless and runs around wild
The world we live in is a crazy disaster
And we are the ones who is its ringmaster
So to those who destroy is and fill it with hate
Damn them to hell along with their mistakes
To the gays and trans and all in between
To the ones hurting and crying with pleas
Love who you want and never be fake
Don't listen to haters for goodness sake
Don't be too hard on yourself, you'll make mistakes
You'll fall in love and have your heart break
You'll have bad habits
Soulmate.Nightmares scare your soulSoulmate.4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
But Hell was worth finding you again.
I Don't Want to Expect from Humans Any LongerI Don't Want to Expect from Humans Any Longer3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When the people look at me
They look at me like I am only a stone
I always alone
Despite the rain and the storm approached
I'm hoping to be accompanied
But everything goes out like fire
If the fire is my friend
That warmth is my power
But when the wind blows
The heat burn all my hope
A good friend is something so valuable
Can not be bought or sold
But I also need to realize
That he also has his own problems
It's the time to stop expecting the humans
Because every human has his own problems
It's not a wise thing to expect humans
Because in the end they always let me down
The Waste WorldShe said create the world, so I did. I made it dark and dusty, coughed up from my own black lungs. I gave the trees an ashen hue and the ground a color to match the starless sky. The creatures were murmuring oozes, globs of drying acrylic that inked across the orb of my bubbling imagination.The Waste World3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Repulsing, it was in fact the product of an industrial mind. I was born from man's smog goddess and, if memory serves me, her breath was laced in exhaust which I inhaled nightly with her songs. She was soothing and complacent, her voice smokey like a hazy bar. No one could deny her features were hideous beyond belief. Her skin dripped pollution like morphine into veins, into deep red rivers to turn them ebony and clogged. Her eyes glistened obsidian, sharp and cold if you didn't know her at all. I knew she was lost and ashamed, as her mother, my grandmother, would often remind her of the destruction her presence caused. I loved her like grandmother nature never could.
Grandmother was ,indeed, a gra
and we'll rotoh, poet boy,and we'll rot2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are not
or honey bones
& you have only
ever been a god
inside of your own head
Shame on MeI thoughtShame on Me1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
that I could think my way
out of a brain defect.
That I could unlearn
the way my neurons fire
and the synapses wince
when someone raises their voice
that when he told me to trust
that it could be true.
That I could learn
the way that vocal chords moan
and groan, and growl.
When someone tells me to believe
to be myself
that might mean they meant it.
DownpourTo be ignored, is like a downpour,Downpour2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where even the raindrops refuse to hit you.
Rain overflowing the gutters in these dirty veins,
as yellow sneakers drag street lines into the cracked pavement.
Hansle and Gretel crums,
a simple reminder of where I house my pain.
If only my lashes had length enough, to hide tears,
but i'm afraid the only growing lashes are from the whip I taste daily.
Downpours come and go in life.
Don't seek shelter under a weathered umbrella,
if the rain wont get you the wind surly will.
He Named the Stars for HerThere were twenty-seven frecklesHe Named the Stars for Her5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the skin between her shoulder blades.
He used to line them into constellations in his free time:
The Big Dipper;
He called her Galaxy Girl
and swore she'd walk the moon someday.
he captured twenty-six fireflies for her
and she laughed
when he held up the jar
and told her she could find her way home with it.
She could light her way back to him.
He swore she'd be the first girl
he'd ever name a star for
and he'd call it Glacier to match her eyes
it was so much better than her real name.
He looks at the sky
through his telescope now
and wonders if she realizes he kept his promise.
Twenty-eight stars are dedicated to her
and her universe freckles.
He named them all Lizzie
and despite his long midnight talks
with the fireflies he always captures in his palms just for her,
he still can't bring her back to his world.
CatatoniaShe scrawls life line tallies on her wrists in scarsCatatonia1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
to mark each year passed
and haunts bars looking for the love of strangers.
she finds malt whiskey and vermouth; strange mouths to kiss
she tips them back the way a lover might tip her chinny chin
She whispers slurs and looks into the abyss of gin.
He inhales death with the smoky kisses of cigarettes
injects life paraphrasing echoes of love with hypodermics to keep
the hypothermia of loneliness back
but it creeps and creeps
a slow paralysis
under the windowsill, rain falling bleak on the pane to drip
into her veins
soft dark over the threshold of the doorway to her soul
writing ink into her shadow, there -
melting behind the lidded stupor stare of dreamless minds
it stirs and wakes,
invisible monsters sleeping in her chest
they bare their teeth and bleed
pain naked in the light of morning
ugly and beautiful in the honesty of strangers unable to turn
from a car crash in the dusk.
walking in darkness
searching for touch.
Mortician's DaughterI saw her walking down the street, her dark hair spilling like ink over her shoulders, her skin the color of alabaster. She moved with ease as she passed, focusing on some far away object I'd never know. I watched as she moved away, slipping from my grasp with each step. I wanted so badly to call out to her, to ask her where she was going, and if I could join her. But I didn't stop her; she kept moving, never noticing my existence. I watched her walk around the corner and the one fleeting moment that she was in my life ended.Mortician's Daughter4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I found her again two years later, when I was in college. I was taking an art course and there she was, sitting two rows ahead and one seat to the right. I recognized her immediately, the same beautiful hair, the same flawless skin, but she didn't look my way. She continued to take notes, her black hair falling from behind her ear. How I wanted to reach and place it back, but I resisted the urge. I just watched her, glances from the corner of my eye, to
TranslateWrite me lettersTranslate5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'm sick of being secretive, I'm tired of holding all my thoughts and feelings in while I'm watching him. I'm watching him be free. He's so weightless... It's so amazing. It breaks me to pieces when I can't hold his gaze, for fear that he'll see right through my black-hole eyes and realize how empty I really am. He'll know just how much of my memory I've thrown away, how I cart around a camera in attempts to capture the moments I never want to lose. Except. Except I never can put the emotion in a polaroid.
I've graduated from printed-out shiny images to words and notebooks and torn-out pages and the back of receipts. He smiled today. He smiled at me. Not anybody else. He has this incredible ability to make me feel a little bit less gone. A little bit more here. A little bit more real. He has this way of pulling up memories with his voice, giving me something better than a black-and-white polaroid, something that's truth.
I've stopped wr
there are no more tomorrowsYou used to say how you could tell dejection from joy, by the little reflections of sporadic light in his eyes. You said your invisible walls had melted away with winter, and that spring would be a new start. Birds sing on high treetops, and you hum secretly to yourself in the shower of your 66th floor apartment.there are no more tomorrows5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
On the news, a skyscraper had caught fire and burned to ashes on its own footprints. And miles away an airplane whirls down the night sky, frightened faces watch through icy rectangular windowpanes and see how close they are to falling stars, and the acceptance in their own reflections.
Yellow masks are forced to emerge, while shaky hands hold them helplessly and know that they would not save lives. One man contemplates his job advance; another student relinquishes their approaching holidays. But now, there are finally no more tomorrows. Just one moment, just this moment. Watching oneself swirl down the air, staring into muddy eyes like pond water.
Distilled water glasses trem
OutsidersOnce-ler was used to the teasing.Outsiders3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
As the child, barely twelve years old, walked down the crowded halls of his small school, he pushed them to the back of his mind. The mockery grew steadily worse as he continued on, and his head remained bowed, as if to not catch attentionthough at nearly five foot six, he towered over his peers, and he stood out like a weed amongst flowers.
Gigantor, Toothpick, Long-legs, Einstein, Brain-less, Once-nerd and the most common and clichéfreak. Or geek, sometimes. They liked to play around with it. But the boy ignored the jeers and comments, and kept his small hands tightened on the straps of his backpack.
Soon, they would see. Soon, very, very soon, they would learn to appreciate his genius. It may not be today, it not be tomorrow, or even next week, but soon. Fate and destiny couldn't be so cruel to him.
And so Once-ler continued on his way, a hint of a smile across his cut lip, the blood having dried hours ago since lunch, and hummed a
A Kid x Crona Short"No! No this won't do at all!!" Kid yelled, pulling on his black and white stripped hair.A Kid x Crona Short3 years ago in Settings More Like This
Crona nervously watched him, she had little to no clue of how to fix this situation.
"I-Its the sixth time... t-the sixth..." He started to break down. "Why won't the picture stay straight?! I don't get it!!"
"K-Kid... You should c-calm down.. Please..." Crona took a step back.
God knows why Liz and Patty left them alone together, and only He knows why this of all things had to happen.
"I.. I'm a horrible excuse for a Shinigami..." Kid hung his head, his voice cracked. He had started crying! "I don't deserve to exist on this planet..." He sank to his knees.
"O-Oh.. Kid p-please..." Crona rubbed her arm nervously and muttered an, "I can't deal with this."
"I don't deserve to grace this planet with my hideous asymmetrical existence!" He screamed stood up and walked over across the hall to a huge door sized window.
"K-Kid?!" Crona started to panic as he opened the window.
"I'm a terrible, horrible, u
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.By the Lake1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
Giving up on Giving UpI'm just a guest -Giving up on Giving Up2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this old house belongs to you
and if you choose to let it crumble
I will watch / I can't watch.
your floorboards still creak love
like the last time I was here
and you won't let me speak love
but I can't just disappear
I know I'm just a guest -
but you asked me to come
you asked me to stay with you,
asked me to watch you (but I can't).
the wallpaper's too thin love
I can hear the violins
this isn't why I came, love,
decoupage and violence
I could be just a guest here
amid the statues and the stone
but if the dust settles on you
I can't watch, I can't watch -
the kitchen tap, it leaks love,
it stains the counters brown,
I've never seen you eat, love
ever since I came around
and I am just a guest
and the doorbell doesn't work,
if you choose to live in silence
I will wait, I can't wait
I will wait, I can't watch
I can't watch,
I can't watch
your wilting eyes cry again
and your Cain and Abel lips lie again
At 1amI tried to count the dents,At 1am2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my armour,
but I couldn't open my eyes,
I'm too tired.
So I tried to sleep forever,
but I couldn't because,
the ringing in my head wouldn't stop,
whispering at me to wake,
silently, ever so silently.
And so I breathe,
floating and rising,
but I have a body,
a beating heart,
an overdose of emotion,
an intangible force,
that makes me so tired,
always, so tired.
It is 9 in the afternoon& I have forgottenIt is 9 in the afternoon2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how to write in poetics-
tongue kissed & gaping like
a siren missing from her sea.
I have been coughing up black
for days. Unable to clean the taste
from my mouth, these broken
typewriter keys sewn into my
fingertips scream something fierce.
They ache with longing
to tell of a story
that left them
for a better high
a story that never deserved
to make a home under the skin,
to crawl breech through an
-& out through the wrists
of young girls much too ripe
to fall from their beds.
I am so damn tired
of looking over railings
& wondering what
it would feel like
To Be Held Rather Than To HoldI ache for places larger than myselfTo Be Held Rather Than To Hold2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Where elegant grandeur
Shows me for what I am;
A speck of dust
On the breath of God
An infinitesimal flicker of light
In yawning blackness
Golden fields that undulate like water
Forests so old,
That the clay that lies beneath,
At the way I choose to hold the world
I've been looking for something to hold
To cling to
But, what I,
What we ALL
Is places larger than comprehension
To tuck us into our places
With butterfly kisses
i'm not going to say i've missed youthere is enough air in mei'm not going to say i've missed you4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to shatter the ocean.
i will tell you straight,
another thousand miles
would not dim the stars
i hold for you.
the aches in my thumbs
forceful and hollow,
strong enough to
kill a rabbit.
i never want to meet
someone like you again.
i never want to move on,
i never want to move -
i want to wait
where i sit, bleeding,
until you come around.
i will know this
by the way your eyes
in the car,
creating stars in the dark
of its cab,
a personal night sky.
i will never let slip
the secrets you have left
on my skin;
the secret ways
in which you loved me,
and only me.
i will lick my cuts
and hope to heal,
and press memories of our bodies,
two interlocking spirals,
to the backs of your eyelids
so that you will remember us
as we were,
as the first and last things
when you come and go
from an ocean-deep slumber.