The Hunted Chapter 3"Man is born broken. He lives by mending." -Anne LamottThe Hunted Chapter 33 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Oh, it's you again." Ava heard Gabriel say from downstairs. Laurel said it was fine for her to go down, so she did.
"So there's the prodigy," A man said. He was plump with very black, almost purple hair. "She's not much."
"Excuse me?" Ava said, unsure if he was talking to her. If he was, he had sass, with a shirt to match.
"Not one of my best, but I'll accept it." Gabriel leaned over and whispered something to him. "Oooohh." He said drawling it out dramatically.
"Um, who are you?" She asked.
"Dionysus, god of wine, madness, drama, and parties." He sounded very proud that he was the god of getting wasted.
"That's awesome," She said. "Aren't you also the god of leopards and other big cats?" He swept his hand across the air.
"Of course, child. Are you wearing one? You also have horrid fashion." She looked down. She was wearing a sheer leopard print top with red jeans.
"This isn't real leopard... just a print."
Sherlock-Criminal Mastermind 1John Watson stood in the doorway and stared.Sherlock-Criminal Mastermind 15 years ago in Humor More Like This
It was not unusual in itself for Sherlock Holmes to ignore him when he entered. John no longer took it personally; it was Sherlock's mind shutting out outside influences in order to help him think. Plus, to his credit, when Sherlock realised John was there he would throw out a hurried apology before asking for A) John's assistance on a case B) Someone to help him clear up an exploded experiment or C) A cup of tea. If John had done nothing else, he prided himself on teaching Sherlock some manners.
It was also not unusual for Sherlock to be engrossed in a variety of objects, be they of a case related or experimental nature. John had once come home from a long day at work to discover Sherlock energetically stabbing a dead pig which had been hung from the light fixtures. (When Sherlock had finished with it they had bacon sandwiches for tea. A scalpel is not wonderful for butchering purposes but when it's all that's available it can prove service
addictsOr maybe it's trueaddicts5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and we're all insane.
Cutters addicted to lust
lovers addicted to pain.
Stop The HateStop the hate in the world,Stop The Hate5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
And the violence and crime.
Stop the wars and beatings,
They're a big waste of time.
Make peace and be friendly,
Be kind to one another.
Think highly of the world,
Get along with each other.
Don't resort to violence,
It's never the smart thing to do.
Don't hate those who are different,
Step away from crime too.
Walk around town,
With a smile on your face.
And the world will be,
A better place.
Sexshe wipes off her make upSex6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
he washes the gel out of his hair
she takes off her earrings
he undoes his belt
she slips off her shoes
he takes off his shirt
she slides out of her dress
he unzips his jeans
she pulls off her tights
he removes his shoes, jeans and socks
she looks at him
he takes off her bra
she pulls down his pants
he tells her to kneel before him
he lays on the bed
she removes her knickers
he pats the bed
she lays next to him
they hold hands
he rolls onto her
he reassures her
he rolls back over
he looks at her
she looks at him
they hold hands
he kisses her
she kisses him
they lay in bed
A note from AnaHi there!A note from Ana3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let me introduce myself. First name: Anorexia, second name: Nervosa, but you can call me Ana for short. You've been looking a little pudgy recently. Time to skinny down a little bit, don't you think? I tell you what! I'll be your own personal coach! I've done it with lots of girls before, and what can I say, I'm really good at getting them to where they want to be. It's really easy to get the weight off quickly if you just follow my rules, I promise you
So, we've been through it before: food = fat; exercise = thin. It's pretty easy to understand! Sometimes you might slip up. That's okay. Bulimia, or Bulimia Nervosa is there for you! She's my sister, you'll like her! People are going to notice in no time how skinny you're looking. You're going to feel so happy. I'm going to make you happy. But don't listen to them if they tell you it's time to stop. Remember, only my goals matter. I will tell you when it's time. You wouldn't want to stop while you were still a fat ugly c
Just PromiseI hurt a little moreJust Promise4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
then I should.
Not even this coat will
stop my body from
Will you hold me
Caress my fears away,
kiss my fears away.
Just promise me
everything will be
CaleaShe's brewing that teaCalea3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from the island
that grabs your hair
and pulls you into
the street. I'd drink
it to get rid of
my wild dogs; all that
lonely guilt and
with more in my year
before the steam catches
our senses. Time is less
of a straight line
and more of a blowtorch.
It seals us up before
we can flaunt our disease.
A paranoid schizophrenic
doesn't know he's sick; the junkie
believes what he says.
We nakedly trust our eyes
we nakedly trust our bodies.
It's all enough to kill a storm
and make a coat
from its hair.
My blue-green iris
grows with my mouth
on tiny strings
and tiny thoughts
as my body drinks,
TimeThere's a fate which I'm on my way, a grave with my name,Time3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
A dog to tame, memories to frame, a date assigned to my name.
A woman to kiss, all my friends to miss,
Random people I will hate, a family to reciprocate,
My own mind to dominate, my Intellect to elevate,
All this life will be mine,
All I want is for you to share my time.
DistancesThere's a little girl made of glass withDistances3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Purgatory eyes. She
Can't seem to remember where
She's misplaced all those lovely words.
The mockingbirds and stellar jays, they
Cry out, "Little one,
You can't even recall the color of your
You've sharks' teeth in your blood and
Sewing pins in between your collarbones-
What do you know of
This world, anyhow?
Perhaps you are simply
They watch her; she trades butterflies and
Midnight love letters for the
Ability to look without seeing anything.
She gives them one of her ribs
Every afternoon; they can
Use them much better
Than she ever will.
Glossi.Gloss3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This is a poem
for lip gloss
and the pre-teen
who wears it
and the old woman
This is for
sparkle and stick.
For bodies like
For all the boys and girls
who would breath in
when the wick turned black.
Before their hair
turned grey with ash,
and their eyes fogged over
from the naked heat.
Before young love dies
and is buried in a shoebox,
with a little pile of rocks
to mark where it was.
This is for
the scared little boy
who spent all his time
While pretty girls
lay on autumn hills,
and even the crickets play
in major key.
With their noses
face down in the soil.
With their discarded jackets
on the grass, limp-
and making angels.
The Secret"I have a secret."The Secret5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She danced around the unconscious boy mockingly.
"I wish I could tell you."
"But then I'd have to kill you."
She touched the tip of his nose.
"You don't even see do you?"
She touched her chest.
"You broke this, broke it trying to keep it whole."
She pulled back her sleeve.
"See them? The words, the drawings? They're for you."
"You'd be amazed at what sharpie can do."
She pulled the pen out of her pocket and wrote:
I would have rather been torn.
She knelt down next to him.
"I would have you know, why couldn't you break me instead?"
She bent over.
"Next time, break my heart. Don't stay away to protect me."
She looked at the black, such a contrast against her pale skin.
"I miss you now. Too much."
She pushed the sleeve down.
"I think I love you."
She bent over and kissed him.
"It really sucks, doesn't it?"
He began to stir in his sleep.
She slipped out the door silently, and the boy sat up in his bed.
"Why do yo
OutsiderMy black soul is seeping of impure and sinOutsider3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
A head full of hay and a heart made of tin
I'm neither the black sheep nor demon tonight
I'm bad incarnated, the pure face of fright
The rules are for weaklings, I just make my own
I created my crown and I crafted my throne
I rule with a thirst for chaos and blood
Pushing others carelessly into the mud
Never regretting I keep committing crimes
Not looking back as the funeral bell chimes
I torture, rape, murder and break people's hearts
I put a quick ending to pure, fresh new starts
What matters is not where I go when I die
I never ask how, when, wherefore and why
I let nature take it's course, through life I plough
I live in the moment, I live in right now
My Invisible HeartI gave you my heart,My Invisible Heart5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But you never gave me yours.
I placed my heart in your hands,
And you dropped it.
It killed me on the inside,
But I wear my mask to protect myself.
I kneeled next to my heart,
My best friend gave me a needle and thread.
I sat for hours fixing what you broke.
I finally finish fixing my heart.
When my best friend tells me,
She is going out with you...
My invisible heart broke again and again...
CeruleanEven the waves had been tamed,Cerulean3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and nature lost its classical romance,
when the waters asked permission
to darken and hold the sands.
I Just Want You To KnowI just want you to know that II Just Want You To Know3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
find you unbearable sometimes.
The way you speak to me
in a manner that is full of pretense
and mask your hatred in smiles.
But sometimes I really like you
and glad we're friends.
I just want you to know that I
find you rather attractive.
I like the way your hair falls
and the way you slip your hand into mine
and the feeling it gives me.
I love the way I feel about you.
I want you to talk to me more and
have conversations that last for a long time
and for us to hang out often and
just be each others'.
I just want you to know that I
find you adorably kind.
The things that we talk about
and your reactions to my actions
and how you show me that at least
one person will always care for me
no matter what I do
just make me want to always be close friends.
I just want you to know that I
find you completely annoying.
The face you make when someone
mentions a thing or person you don't like
or the way you try to escape every task
and complain about it like it's som
Angelic loveAngelic loveAngelic love3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
A dead angel is walking on the street
Hoping that his soul-mate he'll meet
An angel with blue eyes, searching for love
A sad angel, fallen from somewhere above...
He's walking day, he's walking night,
Hoping to find the one that's right
He's carrying his heavy broken heart,
It's full weight, not just the healed part
All that sadness, all that beauty...
The way he made love, his only duty,
Full of hope, always looking for her
Like a long time ago, only they were
All he has is the beauty of a dream
The two of them, eating ice cream ...
Oh, so childish...and so pure
Love...he knows, it's the only cure...
Scared of losing you...I'm not afraid of dying and I'm not afraid of deathScared of losing you...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm not afraid of hurting or taking my last breath
I may cry and miss u if u r ever gone
I'm used to not being anybody to anyone but me
I'm used to faking smiles everyday just for you to see
I'm strong enough to laugh even when I'm blue
I'm not scared of much I'm just scared of losing you
91 Days (and a drink or two)here i lie91 Days (and a drink or two)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the dark
looking at the glow-stars
you strung from my ceiling
i wonder if you remember that summer day
, with sugar-coated lips,
you kissed the lights reflected in my eyes;
i said i wished that i could
drink starlight and swim through galaxies
so we drank vodka from paint-dirtied cups and
rode the waves atop your bed
to places we'd never been and
worlds you'd never seen
they found you in a ditch
three months later;
the stars we chased
you finally caught them
there they were
shining through the glass in your eyes
only yesterday i
felt the ghost of a memory grace my eyelids
only yesterday i felt
Spotlessone day you'll fly a little too close to the sunSpotless3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you'll remember the boy who told you
gas station trinkets were worth more than
the heart you wore on your sleeve.
disillusionment will take you home, and
it will not leave your bed in the morning.
(you will remember he called you loose, too.)
you are the one who believes in smoke
smiles and candid cadavers. no ones'
nose grows, so everyone must be
undeniably true (except
you lie to yourself, too)
a few lifetimes ago you fell in love
with your own reflection, but as you
stripped away layers of common mis-
conceptions, you realized you are not
virtuous and radiant and hung out
only to shine, your paleness is
not purity- only blanched bones.
gravity never liked you and
the secrets you tucked away
beneath your sternum, you're
you are a moth flitting selfishly,
you only wear your tattered wings.
-Love- SexualPress your mouth-Love- Sexual11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't care who I am
Only who I'm with
And I need
Just hold me now
Entwine your fingers
In my hair
And let your gliding hands
Whisper all the secrets
You will never tell me
Push me down
And keep me here
I'd rather suffocate
Under your weight
Than ever come up
Let me feel your skin
Ignoring the rising heat
Because I'm so lost
In your eyes
In the passion
That becomes us
I only want
To feel you
Is what I crave tonight
To hold you close and
Make tangible our Love
So push yourself
Deep within me
And touch me
That with each loving caress
I feel our souls
Because I am only ever complete
When I am combined
I give myself
To you totally
Keeping FaithWho knowsKeeping Faith3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but that when we die
you and I will become the genii loci
of those cobblestoned streets
on the Cape Fear River,
lending a certain je ne sais quoi
to the atmosphere of fair-trade black coffees
ordered in Port City Java by college intellectuals,
to the sweat- and beer-soaked rock romances
in the bellies of converted warehouses,
to all the phone calls the one-a.m.-drinkers swear
the alcohol made for them.
we will go straight to a hell
that is haven for those of us
who are said to be the reviled of God,
where the vending machines spit cancerless cigarettes,
the condoms never break,
and everyone has a top-floor balcony
above the light pollution of the Pearly Gates,
looking out to the quasi-infinite sea
of undead stars.
For now, we will live to spit in Death’s eye,
blinding him while we both find our way
to the pub around the corner that doesn’t serve light beer,
and carve new haunts
from landlocked towns stuffed with tradition,
where we re-teac