Eat The SunOnly to the sentiment that life is only an illusion can I scorch my eyes and oxidize my inner ear to feel how things truly are: vacillating and finite. With palms raised to the sky, and my fingers spread wide to grip the sunbeams which wash over me, I long entirely to engulf their radiance. At least once, I wish to feel their warmth. Because the world is too icebound, so much that I cannot feel my own heart pulsating and shaking the jagged icicles deep into my stomach and dousing what ever is left of the gusto which ignites my very spirit. For too long am I left shivering, yet I am no slave to the frostbitten demons that have trapped themselves in my bloodstream, and instead a survivor grasping for radiating fissures--despite the singed fingertips I am left to kiss better on my own. But, however, when I have acquired the aurora of the day's apex I can raise the brilliance to my lips, drink entirely its quintessence to become one with the sky. No longer do I need to feel the penetratingEat The Sun2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Marbled Reality Part 1The air was thick that night. Thick and cold, like a lead sheet that blanketed the entire city. I was unsure if my footsteps were heard though I didn't particularly care, I just continued my way down the alley. I looked to the sky and saw the familiar view. My eyes gazed upon a starless, pitch black sky. Adorned with the vertical edifices of thousands of sky scrapers, the only stars you were ever going to see were artificial. Simply just lights in the near millions of tower windows, or the occasional hover pod making a midnight run. Those like me never had the luxury of owning such a vehicle, such a marvel of technology in and of itself. Merely taking the primitive bus systems around town came to be expensive enough. I had just gotten off work not even an hour ago, if you could call what I do anywhere near a “normal” job. In a way, staying off the grid so to speak was perfectly beneficial to my occupation, as anonymity had since become my identity. The tungsten illuminationMarbled Reality Part 12 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Worst Way to DieThe Worst Way to Die2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
The worst way to die
Its not from a blade
It's not by a gun shot
Or by a grenade,
The way that I think of
As the worst way to go
Kills hundreds of people
Makes thousands of tears flow,
It is more lethal
And causes more pain
Than being locked up
With a cold metal chain,
It burns like a fire
Within your chest
Taking you down
Failing your test,
I'm sorry to say
Most don't survive
After the first crack
They no longer feel alive,
It is through this
Many are torn apart
Yes the worst way to die
Is by a broken heart.
End RemembranceEnd Remembrance2 years ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
The place stories come from'Sometimes people wonder where stories come from. A person can tell a story about something so unbelievable, yet so wonderful that it seems real. That's because it is.The place stories come from3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I don't wonder about it, though, because I know where stories come from.
It's a magical place with thousands of enchanting creatures, beautiful plants, trees as high as sky scrapers and heroic people. Whatever you can think of, it exists there.
Every once in a while, people come to witness all of this. They watch the talking trees, dance with the fairies and feel the heat of a dragon's fire. Eventhough there are many people at the same time, you don't walk into them. No matter how long you stay there, you won't meet any other visitors or even know that they're there.
Stories come to us for a reason. It's because we saw something, met someone or did somewhat unusual things that we remember. We remember them and write them down or tell them to others. That's how stories are born.
It's a place I've visited s
Marbled Reality Part 2Now all securitron seems to do is just use its iron grip on our privacy for its own end. I didn't so much want to delete my entire past, erase everything I ever was, that I had ever done but it was a survival tactic. The few that I associate with these days merely call me “Shadow” because that is where I feel I must exist most of the time; in the shadows, hidden from the watchful eye of an authority that seems to have a very dark agenda of its own. The sounds of these complexes were just as dreary, but they all retained the family strife of humanity that was always familiar to us: a distant couple arguing about god knows what, the bass filled rumble of some prick with his stereo on far too loud, an unruly baby crying wanting its mother to ease it back into a peaceful dream far away from this bleak world...and the soft purr of Blake. Blake was a stray cat that always followed me around my complex. I don't know where he came from. He just showed up one day at my door step andMarbled Reality Part 22 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
ADPADP: Accidental Destruction of PlantsADP4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Spring, it's coming again. Finally. I was almost afraid it would stay away this year... But it won't. It's coming back. Hooray! Because not only spring is coming, but also little animals such as ducks, sheep, cows, etc. And of course, flowers.
So beautiful, flowers. It's kind of a habit of my aunt to give me (and my sister) a little plant for Easter. The only problem is that I truly can't keep a plant alive. It's not an exaggeration this time. I just keep killing plants! Not on purpose, of course, but they keep dying. Once I got a little plant (which was supposed to produce some kind of weird strawberries, but honestly, I've never seen anything like that...)
I kind of forgot about that plant... So it slowly died of thirst and lack of attention.
The second plant I got was truly beautiful. The flowers were all kinds of yellow and it was growing really well. Because I remembered what I had done to my previous plant, I decided this one was definitely N
1st PoemThere is darkness all around me1st Poem5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Deep piercing black that I cannot breath
My life has been torn apart
The pain is everlasting
Seeing the world so cruel
Makes me want to gouge my eyes out
My soul is darker than the sky at night
My thirst is greater than a vampire locked away for eternity
And my hatred for my foes is hotter than the flames of hell
Standing within the sunlight, I feel no warmth
Standing within a blizzard, I feel no chills
But with a rusty pair of scissors, I feel the stings of agony
My Father is nothing but a mystery to me
My Mother is nothing but a void walker to me
As for myself, I am nothing but a shadow in the mist
Forever, I shall remain a victim to this world of corruption
Never again shall I endure happiness
Only pain.....misery.....and sadness
AwakeningAwakeningAwakening4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The sound of rain pouring down and coming into contact with the window was more of a relaxing sound than eerie. Looking over at the wall thinking about a lot of things. Things that I needed to find a conclusion to. A small sigh escaped from my lips, nothing was in the air that would distract my mind. No sounds of car horn, trains or even the technology inside the house. It was tranquil in an eerie peaceful sort of way. Leaping out of my bed and walking into the hall something was "different." The walls were starting to crumble as paint was beginning to peel leaving it colorless and bland. Taking a few steps towards the stairway the floors were starting to creak and become weaker with each step. I was fearing that at any moment that with misstep that I would fall through the floor. The outcome, I didn't want to give it much thought. My eyes were in shocked after arriving at the foot of the stairs. A loud crashing sound echoed throughout the hall and just when you open your eye
That One LetterDear lover...,That One Letter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This is the one letter I couldn't send
It means too much for to hand it over
There isn't much for me to write because I am no writer
No fancy words, just the straight out truth
You still surprise me, even if I don't show it
I know we just can't be over
I can see it in your eyes, you haven't lost hope
As long I can still feel you are still holding on, I will keep trying
I know I am not perfect but I keep trying
That's what I said I will do from the start
One chance I have to make it right
If I miss it, it will be too late
Remember who you are and forget what people said about you
You are beautiful; don't let others say you are not
I won't let you fall, even when I am wrong
I always remember that you like hand-written letters
A letter had more emotion than a text or email because you can see the mistakes, the eraser marks
The emotion is true in each word I write
I don't want you to fade away like everyone else has, I don't want to wake up one morning and realize that you a
The moment time stood stillThe moment time stood still, was the moment she was surrounded by the smell of flowers. She smelled lilac, freesia's and roses. She could smell the grass; still a bit wet from the rain. She could also smell his scent, lingering around her.The moment time stood still4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The moment time stood still, was the moment she could hear the birds sing their beautiful songs. Each had a different melody; a different composition of sounds which seemed to fit perfectly. And, in harmony with the songs and the whispers of the grass, she could hear him breathing softly next to her.
The moment time stood still, was the moment she felt the soft grass beneath her. The sunlight touching her skin; treasuring it, touching it lightly. She could feel his arms around her. Keeping her safe. Making her feel loved. And love was what she felt that moment.
The moment time stood still, was the moment she still tasted the taste of his kiss. His loving kiss. The kiss she never wanted to end. She could taste the fresh taste of the air around
Low Self-EsteemSometimes she gets this look.Low Self-Esteem4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's a feeling that's just radiating from her and I know it well.
Her eyes shift to the ground, making her shrink. And yet she manages to keep a hold of a sliver of some self-confidence and control.
Then her lips follow and become a slightly stained pink because of how softly she presses her teeth into the skin.
She's defeated and helpless for that moment before regaining composure.
Finally, back to normalcy without shedding any tears.
If I watch her (just random coincidental glances, mind you) I feel her pain, and from it I carry more. Because she is the farthest from anyone who should feel this self-defeat. The defeat of losing to someone you don't know and isn't there.
Insignificant. Undesirable. Fallen.
It's a feeling one can't shake off.
It's that of self-loathe, that festers on the mind and slowly pours out in fragments. A glance in the mirror, an analysis of the hands.
Longing and envious stares at others. (At what could be)
I'm always in awe whenev
I KnowI know what you really think of meI Know2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I know you want me gone
I know whenever my mouth opens you cringe
I know you think I’m stupid
I know you wish I would die
I know people hate me
I know I’m really stupid
I know I don’t get you
I know you don’t get me
I know you wish we really never met
And I’m sorry...
Plot, plot, plotarePlot, plot, plotarePlot, plot, plotare4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Herlitz. Librărie, papetărie, rechizite, afişe, xerox, scanare, bannere, magazin de plotare.
După-amiază de toamnă. Băieţii de la xerox beau Ice Coffee. Fetele de la caiete testează nişte radiere noi.
Apare un client.
CLIENTUL: Bună ziua, am văzut la intrare un afiş cum că ăsta ar fi şi un magazin de plotare.
ANGAJATUL (unul dintre xeroxişti): Da, bună ziua! Pentru ce solicitaţi serviciile noastre?
CLIENTUL (apropiindu-se şi aproape răsturnând Ice Coffee-ul cu cotul): Am nevoie pentru o carte, ştiţi, mă chinui la ea de o grămadă de timp şi nu mai iese...
ANGAJATUL (redresând ceaşca): Ce fel de carte? Cu ilustraţii multe?
CLIENTUL (pufnind amuzat): Aaa, da' de unde. Poate oi pune câteva poze pe-acolo. Da' nu ălea contează.
ANGAJATUL (amabil): Să înţeleg că nu vă trebuie ceva
2nd PoemThe everlasting pain disappeared and no longer hurts me2nd Poem5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The cruelty of the world can no longer concern me
And the kitchen knife is stained with my blood no more
I can finally feel the warmth of the sun in summer
I can finally feel the chills of the snow in winter
And yet, I cannot feel the stings of agony from the rusty scissors
If I could, I'd be there for you in your darkest times
If I could, I'd throw my life away for your protection and safety
But I can't, for we both live so far from each other
I don't deserve your general acts of kindness
I don't deserve to be your dearest friend
I don't even deserve the chance to talk to you
To bakkas, they think of you as a target for their childish pranks
To barbarians, they think of you as an object they own
But to me, you are a reincarnation of an angel from the heavens above
We both lost loved ones during our younger years
We both go through difficult situations
And yet, we still live far away from each other
After meeting you, the darkness
Good Morning, BoysDead silence.Good Morning, Boys6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I could almost compare it to nothing, nothing moved, or made a sound; like everything was dead. Absolute dead, fucking, silent. I adjusted my helmet, wiping the sweat from my forehead at the same time.
How much longer you think this is gonna last? He was barely audible; we talked with our hands more so we didnt give our position away to the nothingness in the woods all around us.
I just shook my head, he took the answer and stared back out into the trees. Choppers flew over us, the canopy was so thick that I couldnt tell if it was one of ours, or one of theirs. I tapped his shoulder and pointed to the pack of cigarettes on the other side of him, he threw them over and I lit one as soon as they were in my hands.
I didnt smoke when I was back home, before I came here. I didnt think I needed to, or really had any reason to. My life wasnt stressful like all these other kids here. It was so odd to call them that; but thats what t
Somnium: The Rooftop of memoriesSomnium: Fourth ChapterSomnium: The Rooftop of memories2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The Rooftop of memories
We talked the whole recess and we even skipped some classes. He is the exact same idiot Ren from my dream. After gaining some confidence he asked, what I didn't want to be asked.
"So tell me dude, how did you know all that stuff about everyone?"
I knew he wouldn't believe and I didn't want to freak anybody else out so I just said...
What would you do... if everything you once knew turned out be just a dream? If all the people you once met... are just part of that dream?
Ren remained quietly stared at me and smiled and finally answered.
“Dammit, you really are weird!”
I laughed nervously and suddenly the bell rang. I looked at my watch and realized the day was over; I spent my first day at the rooftop talking with Ren, what a great way to start.
“F*CK! Ren, it’s already 2:45 PM!”
“So, we spent the entire day here, doing nothing more than eating and talking!”
regardless of where and which roads (write)i. so today we get togetherregardless of where and which roads (write)2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as per your request
today you (at last) confess to me
i watch you narrate
the e.e. cummings you've
kept chained in your rhythm,
in your beats and paces and all other nooks
and hidden places
i've secretly always known existed
i want you to start writing today
ii. you tell me you believe
in your ability
to write the words i always knew you whispered;
steaming at the hearts of other girls
turning them to froth
while i watch my own heart
shrivel like dregs
in the same cup of cappuccino
i've always been drinking off drought
iii. i am screaming even in my softest tissues
blaming my body for my hearts' issues
admit to me
(your best blue jeans and bravery set forth)
read me unspoken
find it futile to resist (dear me)
by grace you do and you do
admit to me
my meth, my myth
how (i never have the courage to say)
i am your greatest muse
Why I Do What I DoMusic.Why I Do What I Do4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Forming bodies in the air,
Swirling lines of swirling thoughts,
Melding into one.
And who am I to judge you?
As I sit here, allowing myself to become inspired by your art,
Being a writer I am no one.
Being a musician you are both
Everyone and everything.
Your lips echo of talent
Mine cry mournfully in despair.
It is nothing but nothing.
The point at which things never happen.
One day I will be the point,
For things never happen at the tip of a pen.
Silhouettes mirrored in a copper licked dance,
Whilst I watch in awe.
But when you read what I've written,
When you feed your bright green eyes on my clumsy words,
I understand for a brief moment,
Why I do what I do.