LimboHeaven was my head laying on your lap, your fingers swimming through my hair, feeling the individual strands, hearing your murmurs of how soft it was. It was waking up the next day and you being the first thing I see, your face so serene with messy black hair in your eyes.Limbo5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hell was my mind boiling in the juices of own jealousy [being not the lamb but the leper], my spiked tongue lashing out at you for a seemed wrong, for falling in the arms of another. I would have given something, anything... everything to call you mine.
I knew where I once stood, where I was each time... but where am I now?
banana fudgeHe was like a song I wasn't sure I liked or not yet.banana fudge3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But I'm trying to be more open-minded about music, so today when he carefully placed my hand in his (as if he were asking permission), I smiled a little.
I said, "I'll allow it. But only for today."
He smiled too, only it was more like a smirk because we both knew it wasn't just for today. We were tiptoeing right along the precipice, even though the ground was about two feet down.
Hey, wait. Slow down, heart. I don't know that for sure...
~(Meanwhile, a few months later)~
I am positively nutty for this song.
There isn't a single one like it in the world.
Judge MeJudge me not by were I have beenJudge Me3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Judge me not by the color of my skin
Judge me not by the clothes I wear or by the way I speak
Judge me not by the scars that mar my skin, from so many a blade kissing my flesh
Judge me not by the ribbon that wraps around my neck, a reminder of what I have done and what I will never do again
Judge me not by the ink that colors my flesh, which tells a story across my skin
I am not defined by things you can see, by things you can hear, by things you can smell
I am made from sterner stuff that you can see, hear, or smell
I am not what you know from the past, a boy stuck in stagnant stinking depression
I am not what you see on the surface, a happy Young Man, always joking, always their
I am a protector that you never need
I am a big brother that is never their
I am a friend that only wants you to be happy
I am Nicholas Todd Gackenbach and that is all that I ever will be and i am happy with that
:: Fear ::Fear to love.:: Fear ::5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fear to see.
What will become of me?
Plus OneI've died a thousand deaths today.Plus One5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What do you mean?
One- heart entagngled in razor wire.
Two- Inhaled too quickly and I stopped breathing.
And so and so on.
I wouldn't wish an artist's life on my worst enemy.
I don't get it.
Be happy you don't.
But what do you mean by dying?
Have you ever stepped on broken glass?
Hurts, doesn't it?
Imagine walking a thousand miles through a desert
Sand gritting against bloody soles
Digging into jell-o bones,
No oxygen, no nothing,
But a burning reminder of what was?
You're being weird again.
Maybe. But that's how it's like, for me, at least.
Or maybe I'm not being clear. Let's say,
You're holding a delicate flame, encased in fine crystal,
And you're trying to carry it without dropping it
Over paper thin ice in the dead of winter,
And you can't let go
You can't let go
Can't let go
I'd call you stupid.
You'd be right.
Then why would you do that?
Because that flame
Is more goddam
Sunshine SmilesI cup your chin and plant a kiss that germinates and blooms into something twice as beautiful as any ordinary rose: your smile.Sunshine Smiles5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You ask me what I want to be when I grow up. I tell you I want to be yours. You tell me you have aspirations and goals and a list of things to do. I tell you I've got no plans tonight.
I need some peace and quiet to forget the nonchalance of your fingertips crawling across my shoulders. The way you make me shiver, you could be an arctic wind. The way you keep me warm, you could be the desert sun.
"How did you get so wonderful?" "I met you."
Such simple words make themselves comfortable in my memory. They're not ever leaving. Impossibilities may flood the world around them, but they're rooted in my brain.
Birthday gifts and well-wishes are overlooked the moment that I catch your eye. I told you I didn't want anything but you. I bet you'd look cute in wrapping paper.
You are perfection personified. The sun shines when you smile. The storm clouds form
Open Me UpOpen me up.Open Me Up3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Cracking bones, tugging veins, puncturing lungs.
Every piece of my rib cage and every vital organ in my body: twisted.
Stomping on promises and hope, this was not supposed to happen.
(You were not supposed to give in and I am not supposed to forgive.)
I did not know that love could ever be so fickle.
My heart beat raced for you, longing, wanting, loving, promising, needing.
But I was wrong and I don't know where that happened.
-Twisting and tumbling through my arteries, you spewed lies into me and I was thrown off balance.
(No matter how many times I can possibly be told otherwise, I always end up blaming myself.)
You knew it was important and you knew it was special and you knew how in love I was.
Betrayal was always too close for comfort.
(And you thought that I was the one that didn't deserve trusting?)
My splintered bones are still awaiting the final blow that makes it impossible for me to forgive you but it is not coming and I can not stay away from you.
(You should ha
FallingAsleepInFrostbiteArmsTake me back.FallingAsleepInFrostbiteArms5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
mind. mine. SATISFACTION
capture the butterfly. nightmares of pupa stage.
F R O Z E N
but i'm flying
it's an ice capsule. a cage.
memories to throttle the moment.
but mostly, just cold.
shriek me into seams. frost falling through.
artic jaws and icicle incisors
please don't bite
disfigure my passion.
(it has passed.)
asking for feather membranes to burst through my shoulder blades.
because if I could fly
I could find you.
but it's sand escaping palm.
timelines cracking into hourglass.
can you grasp the shards
of moments long since shattered.
s l i p p i n g
into present tense
razors with the slice of iceberg hands.
loving the hypodermic needles of your subzero grasp.
shuddering with relief.
but something says:
Coffee Shop RomanceYoung manCoffee Shop Romance5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You asked me to watch your
I said sure and
Looked up and
My god you were cute
When you came back you said thanks and
We smiled at one another and
Our gazes lingered
Just a bit
I don't think it was my imagination
We spent the next half hour or so
Jiggling our legs and
Shifting our bodies and
Of one another out of the corners of our
You watched me type and
I watched you read and
We both pretended we were just as alone
As we had been before
But of course now there was
Now there was
I know you wanted to say something
But didn't know how to
So instead you just cleared
Now and then and
I smiled at my computer screen and
I left when my tea and battery got low
Refusing to care
Whether you watched me
As I walked out of the coffee shop
And into the rain.
Letters of Insanity - 2Lying in bed, mindlessly typingLetters of Insanity - 25 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
covered in blankets 'cause I don't want to look
at my body
have to get up eventually,
put on clothes that make it very unlikely
to be called by your preferred pronouns.
What's that? Preferred?
Why can't you just stick with the ones you're born with?
Living for yourself,
not for everyone else - That
is a tricky one.
Harder than you'd think,
to get up every morning, attempt to decide
what you're going to wear,
what you feel like being called today.
"sir" versus "ma'am,"
though often even with long hair and tight shirts
the former is what you get.
In the question of gender, why aren't "yes" or "no" options?
Why does it even matter,
would it be so hard to just be human?
This ohsobinary segregation is tiring,
and confusing and impossible
for the best of us.
Words, words, words,
throwing them all together in ways that you hope make sense,
trying to get your point - your story - across,
wondering if anyone will get it,
or if you are still
the odd one out
While You LastedYou're quite the survivor,While You Lasted4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yes, you've held on through all of this
The dents and scrapes
And broken times.
I thought that you,
Of all people
Could make it through this
'Cause you were the survivor.
There you go.
You were fun while you lasted.
On My LipsWords on your lips,On My Lips4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my lips -
the way you sit,
how your lips split.
Tears trailing my eyes
like I'm torn,
one big lie, baked,
too real to die,
too deep to seal.
I'm a broken seal -
the peel you threw away,
the straw you're breathing through,
the alleys you cut through,
the cuts that cut you,
the ones that say you're too few,
too little, so brittle.
I'll be your attorney to promise
acquittal, peddle you freedom
then pedal away with you,
leaving thumbs behind to twiddle,
smiles between that no one has seen,
twirling across my skin,
making your split lips grin.
InkInk bleeds from my woundsInk4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My razor my pen
I write these words
From which dead trees swaying in the wind
And rotting flower pedals that float in the breeze flow from
I bleed till my heart beats no more words
And my last words will be
MercyYou're like a fallen angelMercy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A dusty doll on the shelf
Your eyes still to the ceiling
Counting the seconds
The spans between the rise and fall of your chest
Cutting through the torture
Tracing the bites on your stomach with shaking fingers
Drunk behind the gym during class
Yearning and mourning
Nothing but a scared little boy
Face pressed to the filthy bus window
Watching mommy wave goodbye
You're a broken wine glass
Shattered between stiletto heels
Branded with ruby lipstick and the stick of apple wine
Babe, don't try to shove your bruised knuckles in your empty pockets
Brush it off
Shake your blonde head and smile
Tell yourself that you're going to be fine
Not moving a muscle
Deceit in the corners of your eyes
No bend in the sides of your mouth
Begging for mercy
love for the authorI love the way that writers are.love for the author5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I love the way that when i write, my head crowds with multitudes of delightfull words, and in a split second sorts through each and every one, turning it over, comparing, listening to the sounds and shapes the words make before providing my hands with a perfectly formed droplet of deception. Because when a person is writing, it is possible to truly express when you feel ecstatic and dizzy with happiness, as if you could never in the entire of existance love anyone but this divine creature gracing your lips with their miracles.
Or explain the pain you feel, when you lose that person to fate. cruel harsh fate that has mauled your heart, bringing insanity accompanied by grief and crushing the brightest spark in your entire life in its palm.
I am amazed that writers can convey their imaginations into words, share hero's and villains, and sweeping ancient mountainsides, and luminescant worlds being held together by four decrepid elephants on a turtles back .
Empty ShelvesI first remember holding a pencil when I was six years old. It was really what I could only describe as a fantastic feeling. Rather than a pencil, I felt as if I was holding the world in my hands, like I had a power that no one else possessed. It was an amazing feeling.Empty Shelves5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I decided I wanted to write for newspapers at an early age. My older brother was a paperboy who delivered the newspaper every morning down the street. Sometimes I would join him and run alongside, holding our own copy in my hands. The other boys my age admired how he threw the paper from so far away with such force, almost like it was a baseball being thrown to home plate. I, however, would read the paper every morning and stand bewildered at how much literary genius fueled its contents. Almost as if this each and every edition of that newspaper were the greatest novel our century had ever seen.
The day I turned nine years old, two amazing things took place. The first was that my father bought us a typewriter. Rather, h
censorsthe insatiable desire to put words to paper, thought to fire, thoughts on firecensors3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
in the schism between mind, body, and soul
the free-falling, three-way partition that leaves emptiness whole
someone shut the censors off
catatonic, collapse of the system now
looking to the white walls for a way out
shades of grey in rainbows, burnin up
the star-lit sky, glow justified
unsettled tick of a second gone by, it's just a lie, the clock is a liar
as the object on the wall tracks time yet nothing at all
cyclic motion, determination of fear, boasting only how long we've been rotting here
someone shut the censors up
medicated, distraught with the fixation
grasping at broken straws for cessation
shades of grey in rainbows, burnin up
the star-lit sky, glow justified
fireworks burst in the faded cosmos, truths that follow, are hard to swallow
with the dying embers of transition blindly yearning for remission
lingering scream, floating out in the open, begging for an ear but there's no hoping
Chai LatteI drink in your smell,Chai Latte4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's somehow soft,
and telling of long winter nights,
under piles and blankets,
and giggles, and lost kisses,
planted on noses,
It's a tiresome summers,
eve, where I'm sat,
in a bedouin tent,
surrounded by cushions,
and unfamiliar smells,
of shisha; and spice,
Cinnamon and nutmeg,
habak tea and mint,
Laughing with people,
I've only just met,
and dancing to music,
I've never heard,
It's a late spring morning,
with words hanging in the air,
Telling tales of camel rides,
and sunsets, and coin belts; and more,
It's a soft hug from a sister,
I love more than earth,
and a reminder of boom shanka,
of all I've forgotten,
It's a cool autumn, afternoon,
Curled up in a jacket,
three sizes too big,
lying in the garden,
as leaves fall around me,
bright reds and yellows,
and warm spice browns,
It's memories of markets,
and strings of lanterns.
It's a comfort I take solace in,
A link to the world I've lost.
Hidden Beneath the StairsHidden Beneath the StairsHidden Beneath the Stairs5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Upon the darkened stairs I pause.
Weary of the shadowed claws.
Whose massive strength will pull me down.
Far beyond the monsters frown.
Into a blackened hole of death.
There I take my final breath.
Right before I feel the pain.
The reaper's cold kiss that is lain.
AHHHH! I scream ...
Consciousness from a dream.
I awaken upon my living room floor.
Should I leap to reach the door?
The beasts lurking are impatient.
For me to trip would be convenient.
A hiss, a howl, a silent cry.
Frightfully, disturbing sounds I won't deny.
With the courageousness of a lion, I scale the stairs to my room.
Missing my impaling doom.
That is, until the following night.
The threat is still there for me to fight.
Will that be the day I take my heavenly flight?
Hidden Beneath the Stairs Copyright © Nicole Lichaj
Greying In my youth I believed thatGreying3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
were simple things
mere matters of
I know otherwise
but I still
the quiet innocence of a
What If..."The power cuts have become more frequent.What If...4 years ago in Settings More Like This
It has been growing gradually, the power shortage. It had to happen. They are building a militaristic state after all.
People had been forced out of their jobs and made to join the movement. Those who resisted - died.
All that meant goodbye to the old way of life. We have to scavenge now. Reduced to a hunter-gatherer way of being. In a country which took pride in being a sovereign and secular republic.
Did I tell you that they are cannibals? Not Zombies. People who are not sick, not insane, or the cursed undead. Cannibals.
Yea… the brainwashing had begun early and their furious lectures to the masses had caught on like wildfire. They now believe that eating the flesh of the enemy would give them strength and virility.
Did you know that some of the oldest cannibal tribes on the planet believe the same?
Its funny, the things people will believe and do when they are given a target and blinded by hatred.
It had been festering in them for a
Silent ServantI lay myself down at your feet,Silent Servant6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
low and humble I bow and greet,
I have no worth, no self respect,
No thoughts of glory, no promise of success,
I am not here to beg your pardon,
I am brought before you to bare your burden,
There is no secret to why I have come,
There is only this and nothing more,
Silence is my voice,
Actions my tongue,
Lowly am I but still I come,
When you turn your head and laugh at me,
I will still be here on bended knee,
When you break my spirit and make me cry,
I will still wait for you to ask me why,
When you hurt I will take your pain,
When you suffer I shall bare the same,
When you need I shall provide,
When you say thanks I shall point up high,
When I am done I will walk away,
When I leave I will not be missed,
You will think back and realize there was nothing more than this.