TemporalI am the yesterday waiting for my tomorrow,Temporal1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you are the future waiting for your past.
Let us correspond our oscillating hearts,
hidden behind adamantine bastions,
and together we shall fabricate a new
the meaning of lifeGod is dead. No one knows.the meaning of life1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
RebirthFalling further down into theRebirth1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
abyss of agony with no way
to go up; and these chains
that bind wrists in iron so
cold that it burns like fire
refuse to shatter; drowning
in tidal waves of chaos and
Give me a blade to cut away these sulfuric bonds at last
and throw me a rope to pull me up out of this hole;
I'm weary of dying inside the coffin they call "the self"
and ready to crawl from the grave in armor woven
from the chains of misery and destruction.
They say beauty is only skin deep,so hand over that defected scalpel in your bloodless handsThey say beauty is only skin deep,10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and watch carefully as I peel away this tainted skin
to make way for my blackened and corrupted
And everyone can finally see
the grotesque monster that lies deep within
this soiled excuse they seem to enjoy calling
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
then why is it that I can't stand
gazing upon my reflection
every time I pass by a mirror?
Into the PlungeBuild me aInto the Plunge10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.
PulsateWhat is a heartbeat,Pulsate1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
without the heart?
What is a dream,
without the conscience?
What is a word,
without the letters?
What is a hope,
without the faith?
What is a soul,
without the self?
What is a kiss,
without the love?
What am I,
Mute TranslucenceShe is trapped in a glass boxMute Translucence1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
One which follows her every move
It is always caging her in
With invisible walls so everyone can see her inside
Yet barriers so thick no one can hear her pleas
A cry of desperation rises up from her crystalline prison
A lamenting wail so loud it threatens to shatter the mirrored bulwark
"Why won't anyone listen to me?
She listens for a response
As the crowds continue to rush past her enclosure
All brushing against the invisible walls
All seeming to forget she's there
There is no acknowledgement to her despondent appeal
but s i l e n c e
A Scholarly MasqueradeSometimes I like to pretend,A Scholarly Masquerade1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm like the Mariana Trench with my words.
That my fingers construct such eloquence,
as abyssal and profound as the Grand Canyon.
Yet the truth of the matter is that,
my heart has not been pulverized into dust.
I am about as succint and poignant,
as a rusted bucket.
For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,For You11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.
The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.
These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
as long as you know their universes.
Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.
You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words shall turn
heartstrings to gold.
Freedom is the only chain you must break in half,
life is the only prison you must escape from,
and the truth is the only lie you must forget.
Vengeful phantoms in a corporeal form walk the earth;
humanity will spite you for you let
Flights of FancyI believe inFlights of Fancy1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings
I believe in
in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought
I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and immature for believing in
However, I simply say to them:
"I just still have my imagination, is all."
Remedial OppositionCease with making promises that you cannot ever keep—Remedial Opposition11 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
can you not see this loathing becoming even more deep?
Halt in your useless words of comfort, telling me everything will be okay—
how can you say such things so simply, when you are never here day by day?
Refrain from acting as if you can turn my world from bleak to bright—
when was the last time you truly changed every wrong thing to right?
It was such a simple pleasure, back in those days;
just one word from you made gold from the grays.
A luxury it was, I now see that more clear than glass;
for those times are done and gone, having long since passed.
Indulgence was my sin whenever thoughts of you jolted through my brain;
it is a laughing matter at how correspondence with you now causes me pain.
You say you want to help me, you say nothing will ever be my fault...
but is that true, when you regret my slow change from child to adult?
You know I tried my damnedest to continue being your best friend...
but what is t
HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,Hellfire10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."
She hides behind an ivory mask,
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.
Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.
For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a throne sewn from the blistering skin of her enemies and
wearing a crown of brambles and tears and seeds born of pandemonium—
Her soul's true colors will shine at last: her mind and body nothing but
kindle for the overdue vengeance of her ravenous
24 Hoursi.24 Hours11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Dreams will slowly fade
as dawn breaks through the windows;
morning’s here again.
Stomachs growl and groan
as smells from the kitchen waft;
afternoon is here.
Dusk paints a red sky,
the sun retires for the night;
evening shall bring peace.
The stars and moon dance,
a waltz of shining passion;
night has come at last.
GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;Glacial10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.
Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.
"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."
And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesWhisper11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
Passionate SovereigntyI'm so tired of writing love stories;Passionate Sovereignty1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
when I've not had one of my own.
I'm so weary of pretending I'm beautiful;
when my looks could turn a man to stone.
I'm so fatigued waiting for my prince;
when I'm not even a princess.
I'm so sick of pretending to be a siren;
when I could barely pass for an enchantress.
I'll tear down this repulsive prison of a
they call the mind,
brick by hideous brick;
and write my own fairytale at last.
DreamDon't ever stop feeling what you want to feel. Reel in all the emotions you care to hold deep inside you, and nurture them within your heart. Embrace the sensation of being the only one to truly change your future, as long as you shove past all your doubts and reach the highest capacity your fingers can brush against. Advance towards your goal with your courage for a sword, justice for a shield, and all your hope forging the rest of your armor to brave every adversity you face. Make your passions you have in life happen, as long as you remember to accomplish one simple act.Dream1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
She Can't Help But Feel Itshe can't help but feel it, that sensation of despairShe Can't Help But Feel It1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
always creeping beneath the barriers of false cheer
she can't help but feel it, that loathing all for herself
always concealed behind a smile which she's painted on with stealth
she can't help but feel it, that yearning to hate the sound of laughter
always threatening her carefully-crafted walls to completely and utterly shatter
she can't help but feel it, that terror as she gazes upon her reflecton; which is usually the key
always making her say the words over and over again in her mind
"that isn't me"
Mirror, MirrorI can't stand the sight of my reflection.Mirror, Mirror4 months ago in Philosophical More Like This
Every time I see her, I cringe. Look at her - the dark shadows beneath her eyes, the slumped shoulders, the half-empty gaze that stares back at me. She's disgusting. She's a monster.
But is she real? Am I real?
I don't know.
Maybe she's the real one and the reason she looks the way she does is because she always sees me and is terrified that something horrible will happen. Maybe I'm the real one and I'm terrified that she's going to let that something occur.
Or maybe we're just the same person and I'm letting my thoughts become too unraveled. There's no such thing as another side to a mirror. It's just a piece of glass that reflects that which is in front of its surface. But then again, what do I know? Not much, if I'm being completely honest.
There are times where I'll pass my reflection and stop, stare at her, and the urge to do nothing more but take her hand and say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've said t
Written AnatomySkin like dehydrated parchmentWritten Anatomy1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Blood like deluged ink
Sink a blade into the seamed veins
And let the words of life all flow free
No More TearsThere is a desert beneath her eyesNo More Tears1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dry, desolate, despairing
Devoid of life; devoid of emotion; devoid of hope;
Now just a broken ravine carved by sorrow
Now just a barren canyon chiseled by fear
Now just a fragmented chasm sculpted by dread
Now just a tearless void
Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,Her Aesthetic Crusade1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.
Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,
and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh.
"Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,
meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece.
"Have you won?" you ask,
though you already know the answer.
She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,
for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy.
"How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,
when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"
S E C R E T Ss omethingS E C R E T S1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji LimerickThe butler had decided enough was enough.A Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji Limerick11 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
His master’s manners were not up to snuff.
He resisted the urge to call the boy a brat,
for he was not allowed to keep his delightful cat.
Being a a child's manservant was certainly tough.