lurking trijan refrainlurking trijan refrain3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the truth comfits our senses not;
our gates are needle's eyes.
our vision: through with darkness shot;
unfit to pierce truth's guise.
lurking along peripheries
in places we but fail to see;
is sheer, stark actuality.
the truth comfits our senses not;
we're deaf as well as mute.
we are spawn of the omniglot;
we flounder, less astute.
a siren's song of polyphones,
of hyper-sharp-sub-aural drones;
a siren's song,
a siren's song
that resonates through flesh and bones.
the truth comfits our senses not;
our mind is too finite.
everything is from nothing wrought;
without the black, no white.
a tale too long to comprehend,
so long its mouth devours its end;
a tale too long,
a tale too long
to help but all our senses rend.
Deserving of NothingDeserving of Nothing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My endless imperfections
shout to the very core of my soul,
Beating away at my humility,
To bare reminder
that I do not deserve you
in the slightest...
Grace is your very essence,
as you embody that which is perfection.
Whereas my rush
to find the flaws of my name,
You tell it tales true,
of the feelings you hold.
Abnormal is my persona,
and infinite apologies are due,
Many thanks, just as much,
are in order...
To God, to you....
Beauty be what has enraptured my heart
for the eternal hour at hand,
You and only you are the whom
that I most desire,But never deserve.
Wreck It Ralph: The Forgotten King - PrologueWreck It Ralph: The Forgotten King - Prologue2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He searched and searched as he entered the dark room that housed the code of his world. It amazed him how eerily beautiful the bluish-purple glow contrasted with the darkness. It also made him happy to see that everything in his world was connected to something else and that nothing was ever alone.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he found what he was looking for and carried a brown, treasure-like chest towards it. "I wish I could always be there for you..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heart-shaped necklace. The constant reminder of what meant the most precious to him in the whole wide world. He remembered how furious he was when he walked in on the enormous mess she had made in the kitchen, but when she showed him the fruits of her mischief, with her large, beaming eyes, outstretched arms, and ridiculous smile... it all melted away. He couldn't help but start laughing at all the icing smeared on her clothes and the candy sp
youtell me how to capture you. i'm starving for your eyes.you4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my pulse quickens at the sight of you. and my heart is
wilting. i'm awkward and a weirdo of the highest caliber.
i hope that's enough to entice you.
On the artist's vision...The artist is a bearer of light whose luminescence allows to peek into what lies beyond.On the artist's vision...3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
But sometimes the fire can be so intense that it may burn away the veil, and the revelation is so horrifying that the one who once shone brightest often becomes a dreaded harbringer of darkness...
Sweet Sleep I slip out of bed, trying not to make a sound, despite the fact I live alone. I used to sneak downstairs in the dead of night when I lived with my parents, that was more than ten years ago but old habits die hard. I have to force myself to turn on the light, afraid I'll wake my non-existent neighbours. A clock on the wall with a knife and fork for hands informs me that it's 3:15 in the morning. I look for paracetamols first; I always keep painkillers in the kitchen, even though I only ever need them when I'm in bed. In my half asleep state I decide to dry swallow them. One sticks to the back of my throat, causing a horrible taste to fill my mouth. I guzzle water straight from the tap until it goes away.Sweet Sleep3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I contemplate going back to bed, but know that I won't sleep now. Four hours sleep is the most I've had in almost a year. I open the fridge and look at its barren interior: I forgot to go shopping. Again. That's the problem wit
case ninealice told me you cried when you fucked her not too long after you & i split up. she said it was the most awful thing she'd ever seen and it made her want to chew straight through her tongue. i'm not sure how to feel about this so i just don't.case nine2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
last night after she told me i went straight home and relived the whole fucking thing. she told me every dirty detail. she told me how she saw you on the subway and she asked you where you were going and you said nowhere. and i would have known what you meant but that dumb bitch didn't. she said that doesn't make any sense. you said nothing. she asked you how you'd been. and i know she was probably wearing some dress that left her raw, pale legs naked. and you probably stared at them like an asshole. you said, god, alice, i don't know. i've just been. and she just looked at you with those stupid, sluggish eyes of hers and said something smart. she said well, john, that must be nice. and you looked up at her and said yeah. it really is. the perfe
The Clockmaker's DaughterShe was murdered.The Clockmaker's Daughter3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The doctors convened around the table around the young woman that they were to examine. There was not a single thing upon the woman's flawless body to suggest that such a thing had happened. She was perfect.
Don't know. She just was.
That's not evidence, Doctor.
I'm aware, Doctor.
They ran their hands along her body and tried to inspect for needle marks. Perhaps it was with the needle that had caused her death. No, there was nothing there to suggest such a death.
They opened her mouth with their plastic hands to see if there was any sign of poison. Her mouth might have been damaged from the chemicals. Yes, perhaps that was it.
The results are negative.
Yes, Doctor, negative.
They looked at the girl's body again. She seemed peaceful and very much alive. She looked like she was just sleeping. She was taking a nap, that was it. But the doctors were smarter than that and studied her further.
on maryjtripping through my bodyon maryj3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tr-tr-tripping through my body
water trickling through my body
you are tickling through my body
do i have a body
of my own, my brain
is swallowing demon
bell-rings. i hear them
in my ear all the time
ganja honey swimming through
i love you but-
oh forget it,
i am only capable of insulting myself
i am a part
you are a part
together we do not make something
but something wholly part if
you can understand
oh- (just a sweet flourish of an oh)
i wasn't thinking about
you the other day when i came until
i realized i wasn't thinking about you but
i think of you now and gnash
there's a storm inside her.she opened her window as wide asthere's a storm inside her.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
she could to let the cool summer night
meet her in her bedroom.
she sat on the stool and looked outside
to face the dark. she's thinking about
the past, and the image of the boy who
stole her heart and never gave it back,
started to take form as she closed her
her face is red from breaking down, and
her lashes are sealing her eyes shut with
moisture. she prays for a rainstorm, because
they were the only thing, other than his
smile that she'll never see again, that
made her happy.
she turns away from the darkness and she feels
a strong wind against her bare shoulders. then
came the rain, thunder and at last lightning.
it had lit up the sky, brighter than she had
ever seen before. she started crying again,
a mixture of happiness and loneliness. but she
felt a burden lift, like it was the only thing
she yearned for some form of peace, a safe haven
that only the sounds of a storm could provide.
her body housed everything the sky needed, th
more on eriche is a wire man. a clothes hanger bent out of shape.more on eric3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he's on every street corner, breaking the shakes and trying to bum off of every twentysomething who might smoke. he's just looking for his fix.
he's not a beautiful person. he's fucked up more times than stars in the sky, more times than holes in his arms, puncture marks up to his elbows, beneath his half moon fingernails.
he is dirty. he is tall and thin, a wire; he is silent at the diner counter. the cracked red vinyl scrunches under him, the vague shape of his pelvis mirrored in the fit of his jeans. he orders coffee in an undertone. he looks about to die.
he's a baby in this world, a newborn with so many holes in his person that if he were a ship, he would be sleeping on the seabed instead of park benches and girls' sofas.
he takes a sip of his coffee, the cup shuddering in his hands like a rabbit. his eyes match the drink, his ha
that's why it's vulgartrust me. i'm a product ofthat's why it's vulgar3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
two, eating at the eyes that
watch me from
collars hanging neatly,
barely, plainly behind
and trust me, i've
written thousands of words
to replace the hard skeleton
missing at the curve of your back.
you broke each section at the
greeting of a new word gurgling
at the hollow of your throat--
each new disease tickling you
inside-out, your neurosis
aching at cameras
and gesticulating at the
sight of highways
spelling your death in
a matter of seconds.
run, jump, cracked,
so, at this sudden branching
of spite and malice
from your trunkless core
i toss you up to the eager shelf
waiting to cultivate your many
poison leaves into a garden that
heals the rich.
create wealth from the selling of your
every tissue and you'll be
thanked for every move you've
made, to simply stand at the
pasture meant to plant
you. we'll make careful
cuttings at the base
of your limbs and
extremities to be buried and
grown anew into f
it's always the growing fearWhen its impossible to be with that someone you can be at the top of the world and still feel inside as if you're falling into an empty expanse, a deep pit, it's hell blinding you, it's images of his unstoppable smile, it's images of his hands, it's images of the arch of his eyebrows and it's the possibilities and venturous thoughts about him that end up in the end of nothing where nothing is ever true and every hypothesis ends with a bad answer with a thousand proofs and two hundred scientists shaking their head, or it's just the lamp and the lonely water bottle who shake with the table as fists pound and rip ugly hair from ugly skulls and pens inking their life on the polished wood, it's the dawning blue, it's the endless streetlights, it's the jogger whizzing by, it's the guards in the red hats who think they are everything, and we're nothing, we aren't, and the knowing that we'd never see each other again, and the possibility and the impossibilities and the doubts and the wonders ait's always the growing fear3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the voice behind the wallLet us close these gaping doors of possibility behind us,the voice behind the wall3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dig out the real knives and get deep
into the core
Of the stark naked truth
A corpse shouting imperfection
a mere clock needle racing towards 11:11
only to wish the same reckless thoughts
two times a day and seven hundred thirty times a year.
I heard your elegiac voice again last night,
your deep cries pouring into my ears
Sending bitter nostalgia down my numbness
Our poetry melted the hard cement wall between us
Our intimacy soared higher than century old lovers
As we spoke the deep vaults of our minds
What was there between us?
It was just a wall, after all.
It started when my father
Fell into the chaotic firefight
He caught in crimson raging fire breathing oxygen like
A vampiric creature
I found the corner of my closet by the wall,
The only real existent corner I could lean against
When the ones in my mind grew too wide open
The first time I heard you recite those words of melancholy
On the other si
firebirdLoneliness is a fetish of ours,firebird3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Singing birds, stardust fluttering in our ribcage,
Quiescent ones once taciturn, but now clangorous---
Saturnine songs are the ones they know, soaring through a perennial chase.
Serene were these rivers I once conducted, to confluence
Over and over, tide over tide, until we heard nothing but seagulls and resounding silence. placid, limpid, gone.
These renascent pictures, washing up the tide of my everlasting pain, from these seas---the primordial thought of man---
a latent, incessant hum, the mimicry of seashells; superficial .
over pallid skies
volatile, mercurial oceans, emotions of acrimony, bottled in glass
smoldering in the garbled translation of ambulances, of iridescent bonfires and of nights spent asphyxiating over the und
quiet'horricos' was the first word to pass her lips. she wrote long before she could speak and her parents were afraid she was mute. they didn't care that at a young age she was able to write- simply that their child was different; wrong. after she spoke her first word they inquired to what it meant. she looked at them with wonder and a sadness not to be felt by such a young little soul and did not say a word. they got angry at her and stormed off, spewing hurtful words that meant little to her. after she spoke her first word she did not speak again for a long time.quiet3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
'horricos' was the only word she spoke at her fathers funeral. she was now in her teens and the fact that she never spoke put people off more than before. as a little girl her parents brushed it off as a phase to all their friends. brushing her off. however, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the fact that she was different; wrong. her writing was now polished and eloquent and her teachers wondered how it was possibl
3 a.m.3 a.m.3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Patches of stars showed between the clouds as they drifted slowly through the night sky. The moon bathed the fluffy edges of each one, lending it a silver lining. Amber streetlights lit up the roads, giving them the appearance of black glass. The rain had ended a few hours ago and the wet pavement sparkled as if it were dusted with glitter.
A black boot splashed through the ditch outside Jill's house, crossed her yard, and disappeared behind her privacy fence.
The party was for her sister's twenty-fourth birthday. Jill had spent the whole week planning it and the whole day enjoying it. Now she lay on her chaise in the living room by the patio door. She had left it slid open and the cool night air blew into the house from the west.
In the side yard between the house and the fence, a figure dressed in black crouched below the windows and lurked into the backyard. The glint of a kni