In the SketchbooksI love in you the sketchbooksIn the Sketchbooks6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Before they praised you in the galleries
They see your aesthetics
Your one image
Your final performance
Your first impressions
I witnessed your growth
The troubles you've surpassed
Your layers of skins
A more vivid dimension than the last
Step by step
I was there
They talk about your name
The way you present yourself
They see you
Trapped in base molding
And guilded gold
I felt every brush stroke
The pencil lines
And every imperfection
Hidden in the redos
They see you
As a canvas
I see you
As a story
Simply repeating itself
Over and over again
For the eyes
Of these bypassers
Caged in prescheduled visits
And blank wallpaper
I make the windows
For you to sing in
You keep them occupied
As they query on your window sill
Because I felt
You to be here
Can't you appreciate
What I've done?
Building your panes
While I suffer with mine
Nowhere for me here
Time for me to move
To another canvas
To another p
we're all dying in the end.You better remember these words, I'll only ever say them oncewe're all dying in the end.6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I often wondered why the world seemed so dark even when the sun was showing itself against the bright blues of the sky. Maybe I found myself moving closer to the shadows than to the light. Maybe I just wanted to feel alone instead of alive. Maybe I just loved the dark.
You stopped playing with cookie-cutter hearts and instead made it your mission to put mine back together. Too bad my heart is like a game of Perfection. All the pieces have a specific place they have to go, and if you don't get them all in before time runs out, they fall back out again. You insisted you would figure it out somehow. I insisted that I'm the kind of puzzle that's near impossible to solve. There were just too many x's, and too many o's. Maybe I liked the idea of little pieces of my heart falling out to leave a trail I could follow later. Maybe I just liked games.
I never believed in magic, but I was all too quick to believe that dreams come
a pencil lacking lead is just like an open wound.she doesn't understand the beautya pencil lacking lead is just like an open wound.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that she's capable of. she can figment
the most beautiful picture and not
even try, her mind is a blank canvas
and her thoughts are like the medium.
swish and splash the red paint, blue,
oxidize me with your catatonic breath,
subtle pencil marks like the veins
that pattern your milky, flawed flesh.
hide behind your eraser shavings, you
always doubt yourself too much, you're
incapable of making a mistake, now.
sweetness, caress this empty sheet of
paper with your carefully chosen
words and help me heal the insulting
that had been caused from all injury.
take your pen and etch indelible phrases
into your aphoristic lifestyle, you
live by age-old techniques but you've
got a modern soul, i want you to wrap
me in your mosaic smiles again. keep
the crying coming, tears are the perfect
base for watercolors. you might be
paranoid but i should inform you that
i am okay. just as long as your sketches
continue to swarm me, encase me with
their warmness and light,
Info about Slovakia for APH OC makers - HISTORYI decided to make my own "for OC makers" series, as Hoples did it (link in description). But I will tell you about another country - SLOVAKIA.Info about Slovakia for APH OC makers - HISTORY3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
In this episode I will tell you something about our history. Let's start from the beginning.
This would be dated before ages of the Principality of Nitra (short Nitrava).
Though Slovakia as a country gained its independence only in 1993, the nation itself is much older. The most extreme theories range from 50 000 BC to 18th century, however I certainly do NOT recommend you to use these for your OC. The most probable date would be set a little before 5th century which is date when presence of Slavic tribes was confirmed on the territory of Slovakia for the first time in documents.
Slovaks and their ancestors were during history described under various names, including Slovák, Sloven, Sclavus, Tót, Uhor, Vend, Meheran and other. First two are how they call
oh my god I forgot to title this screw itI want to createoh my god I forgot to title this screw it2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
something so beautiful
I want to paint all the sweet morsels of life
with words on a page
life is something I do not have,
have not done
Tell me life is something
I WILL have done
by the time I'm gone
I'll be so busy waiting to get to the front of the line
this annoying line- school, college, work, waiting, waiting
that by the time I get there
the movie's sold out
it's a classic by now
and I have a comic gray beard
just like in the cartoons
but it's not funny because I'm going to die
having done nothing but wait
I can't create something from nothing
I can't paint the sweet morsels of life
I do not have,
have not done
England x Reader - Best Ways to ComfortEngland x Reader – Best Ways to ComfortEngland x Reader - Best Ways to Comfort2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Arthur jumped as he heard that shriek, followed almost immediately by a loud thump and a crash. He jumped up, flinging the book in his lap onto the floor and spilling his hot tea he had been taking a sip of into his lap in the process. The cup clattered to the floor as he leapt around in circles swearing for a moment, trying to distract himself from the burning. As soon it was slightly more bearable, Arthur ran towards where the sounds had been coming from.
His footsteps thumped on the wooden flooring of the old cabin as Arthur tore up the stairs and ran down the hallway, heading for the bedroom. He flung open the door to find (f/n) lying face down on the floor. Her torso was flat on the floor, while from the hips below she was on her side. Her hair flowed from her head in a messy and wavy pool, and her arms lay on the ground in positions that made her look like she was trying to claw tracks into the wood. For all Art
SEARCHING FOR A MOMENTThe eyes that speak a thousand wordsSEARCHING FOR A MOMENT2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Gazing with the eloquence of serenity
Focused on none but seeing the all
Staring into each beating heart
The calm stillness of the moment
Like an endless unbroken wave
The cherished minutes flow by
All too quickly fading into memory
To sit and gaze one last time
A single glimpse of that poetry
Is it so much to ask?
Such has been the hardship
Now just a distant memory
The lonely hours wither away
Everything seems like nothing
This sad longing endures
Searching for that vision
The eyes that speak a thousand words
3.14The boy sat on the edge of the wooden pier shivering as the ocean that once hugged him tightly dripped off his body in disgust, leaving only a thin layer of green sludge between his skin and the crisp air around him. The smell of dead fish rose out of the ocean grave and wrapped around him until his nose could no longer smell it at all. As the sun left the hazy blue sky, he watched the boisterous boats tread further into the ocean until they were eaten whole by the horizon. His stomach bubbled, gurgling as if to imitate a toddler drowning.3.142 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
“You. Your shift’s been outta here for an hour,” a man, dressed in rubber rain clothes and black boots said. “We don’t pay ya to loiter after your deed is done.”
“You don’t pay me at all,” Pi mumbled, directing his eyes away from the murky green water and towards the man’s agitated eyes. “What? You don’t.”
“I pay ya plenty,” the man sneered, “for a rat-bo
My Darkest HourMy Darkest Hour3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My Darkest Hour
I've become lost
In my sundered reflection
I've finally crossed
The line of desperation
I sense something sinister
Something that is beyond cruel
My tears seem to hinder
Ready to break down soon
The darkness is always waiting
To rule / To conquer
To swallow / To devour
To return / To overpower
The shadows are always lurking
As I cry / As I weep
As I beg / As I plead
As I fall / As I grieve
The blinding fear is consuming
My anxiety-infected veins pour
I'm beyond weak
I don't want to be afraid anymore
Let me bleed
This is the only way out
A perfect exit for a coward
No longer am I bound
I couldn't survive my darkest hour
The Re-Prettify ProjectBreathing in silver filamentsThe Re-Prettify Project11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
will not make you pretty on the inside.
You cannot polish and buff
lung or aorta
until it is shiny and new.
If you have filled your life with toxins
and allowed your eyes
to cloud over with coal dust
do not, my friend, do not
seek silver linings from anything
but penance and kindness.
Throwing gold-dust over your head
will not administer you a halo.
UnableEmily leapt out of the car as soon as it was stopped and her fidgety hands could undo the seat belt, she excitedly ran straight over the lush green verge and into the pebble-dashed sand. Falling to her knees she clamped her hands around fistfuls of the warm little stones and threw them, delighted, into the air. The beach! Emily loved the beach, she had loved it her whole life. It was her second favourite place to be (after her pillow fort with Jennie, her polar bear teddy).Unable1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Emily’s Dad scooped her up off of the sand and held her upside down, making her shriek with laughter. He scolded her for running off but she knew that he was as happy as she was to be back at the seaside, so she laughed until he put her down again for wriggling too much.
Right way up again Emily scampered up and down the golden sweep of beach front looking for the absolute perfect place to watch the tumbledown waves of water. Emily knew her
Puddle-jumpingShe looks through a puddle to the hole on the other side.Puddle-jumping2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Some dreams fell down there a while ago, and if she can just snag a little of the bright ribbon at their tails, perhaps she could follow them in there.
I mean, it looks quite nice, what with all the blue glowing back at her pigtails, and the
clouds seem quite friendly. I wonder if they know hide and seek?
So in she jumps, wellies and all, but somehow only manages a splash and a splutter, and a muddy pattern over her socks.
But it doesn't matter - there's always tomorrow. She'll try again then.
For it's sad, really, when others look into puddles and all they expect to see is the ground.
Why do you cut?"Because it's a pain that I can control when it stops, whereas the pain inside. It doesn't stop. It never stops. It's not control over the pain I need, its that power to decide when enough is enough."Why do you cut?1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
That's what she told me when I asked her why she cut. But that wasn't the whole truth. And as the tally etched down her legs, the reverse of the marking of ages against a doorjamb in her parent's house, I saw another truth. I gave her space until she felt safe enough to say it out loud. An addendum to the truth:
"I need the scars, I need to be able to blame them for being unlovable. Need to be able to blame my past, my craziness, the pain and those who caused it for being unlovable. For no one wanting me. Need them to cover my body so people see them first and the shape of me second. I need them as a mask. Because if the scars are gone then the truth is obvious. That no one wants me because of my body first, and my mind second.. and I can't blame anyone but myself for those things. The sc
.Fragile.I don't think Ermine is like a ferret at all..Fragile.7 years ago in Other More Like This
He looks more...
I can see spidery blue veins
Underneath his paper-thin skin.
It reminds me of china dishes.
Mother used to keep china dishes on a glass shelf
And always told me,
"Do not touch,
China and the RicexXChinaxAruXx 10:50 pmChina and the Rice5 years ago in Comedy More Like This
Ni hao Japan aru!
xXChinaxAruXx (10:51:13 PM):
I need rice aru.
xXNihondesuXx 10:51 pm
Hello China >.>
xXChinaxAruXx 10:51 pm
We're out of it at my house aru D:
XxManseNimxX 10:52 pm
Hey, Japan, how come it always looks like boring threw up on your house *serious*
xXChinaxAruXx 10:52 pm
As rude as that is aru....
xXNihondesuXx 10:53 pm
W-what are you talking about? I find my house very enjoyable...
XxManseNimxX 10:53 pm
I'm just sayin', everything's so simple. So old fashion. And your doors are made of paper.
xXNihondesuXx 10:54 pm
I prefer my house to be this way...
xXChinaxAruXx 10:54 pm
With your paper doors, what do you do if it rains aru?
XxManseNimxX 10:54 pm
Does rice paper soak like normal paper?
xXNihondesuXx 10:56 pm
0.0 well the rain generally doesnt hit the paper doors China-san...
XxManseNimxX 10:56 pm
xXChinaxAruXx 10:56 pm
XxManseNimxX 10:57 pm
xXChinaxAruXx 10:57 pm
Don't pester him with your questions ar
Metaphorically SpeakingPeople are like books;Metaphorically Speaking2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
full of stories and easily
broken at the spine.
HopeHope is what keeps the heart beating and aliveHope4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hope reminds you you will survive
Hope is what we clutch to in the hardest of times
Hope reminds you things will be fine
Hope is what will take away and ease your every fear
Hope is what will wipe away your one and every tear
Hope is what will take away your pain and every strife
Hope is what will guide your way through the path of life
The Gentlemen's Alliance #1Mr SensibleThe Gentlemen's Alliance #12 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Mr Sensible likes his coffee flat and dark, the same tongue-searing temperature every single morning. He gets up before the birds do to have his shower, and thus always smells of a mix between roasted coffee beans and that strange almond stuff he uses for his hair. He is clean shaven, and his hair doesn't flop down over his face. He looks his age and acts his age.
When you first meet him, you don't like Mr. Sensible much. But he can carry good conversation and he admits he has a smile he saves just for you. He never has to chase you because unlike most men he can keep up. You go out together without the company of others as friends at first. He shows no romantic interest in you for ages, until one day someone tries to ask you out and he slips his warm hand into yours.
Mr Sensible always has time for everything because he's always a little bit early. He has time to zip up your dress and compliment you on your looks. He doesn't shower you with affection because he knows it si
HyperawareI know the thumping of blood in my fingers,Hyperaware2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the twinge in my back,
the tension behind my calves far too well.
The bristle of cold is too much
but the silence without the fan is suffocating.
My blankets are too heavy,
settled over my torso like the rock in my chest
but I can’t sleep without the weight.
This awareness is a manifestation of my longing;
for your hands in my hair,
your warmth at my spine,
your shoes on my floor.
This is what I feel when I can’t feel you –
fixations that drive me to insomnia.
Only the trains are any comfort,
plowing away into the night
screaming here I am; there I go
like world-weary tramps moving just to be moving.
Like you, working just to be working,
burning midnight oil and paper
when you could be breathing fire down my neck.
Discovering Who I amI have been doing a lot of thinking this past week about a number of things but mainly about who I am. I am a rock chick, a country girl, someone who will listen, someone you can have crazy fun with because you know everyone is crazy even if they do not admit it. I am a 24 year old white girl, who is 5' 3" an average build. I have blue eyes, wear contacts, my hair is dirty blond. I like anime/manga, I like to sing, read, write and draw. I am all this and more. To most who know me I am a girl and I like guys. That is not a lie but that is not the whole truth either. I am a girl who likes guys but I am also a girl who likes girls. Saying I am straight is not correct although that is what I commonly refer to myself as. Yet saying I am lesbian is not entirely true either. It took awhile for me to understand but I like both guys and girls.Discovering Who I am8 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I never thought about it until now but like most little girls I had Barbies. I had one or maybe two Ken dolls but the rest were all Barbie. I do not reme
Top 50 Batman Quotes50.I believe in Jim Gordon. I believe in Harvey Dent. I believe in Gotham City.Top 50 Batman Quotes5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
49.I made a promise on the grave of my parents that I would rid this city of the evil that took their lives. By day, I am Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist. At night, criminals, a cowardly and superstitious lot, call me... Batman.
48.You and I... with what we do... what's at stake... we can't fail. Others don't understand, but even if it's... impossible, we still have to succeed.
47.Your life could end here, now, and nobody would ever know. Would anyone even miss you? Tell me, what's your life worth, punk... ?
46.I've known Commissioner Jim Gordon for more years than I'd care to admit. During that time a friendship has grown that I thought was as solid as a rock. I would have trusted my life to the man.
45.You can never escape me. Bullets don't harm me. Nothing harms me. But I know pain. I know pain. Sometimes I share it. With someone like you
44.My life has been a crusade to save this city. But as Ba
wishbones and flowers I think it’s selfishwishbones and flowers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how I have compared
every other kiss
( After all-
good things don’t
invite themselves into the lives
of little girls who categorize
their disorders by the scars
on their wrists and who
allow strangers to hang them
from their necks like wishbones. )
But, no one’s hands
have ever staked claim
to this scavenged wasteland
not even my own.
And it’s hard to forget that;
please forgive me.
As you will always
be the one who taught me
that it’s okay to be sad.
Stories of feelings with no names - Revision i.Stories of feelings with no names - Revision2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message, let alone formulated time to write a reply. You still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by. You rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from your late Grandma Moses.
You lost your voice one day. You woke up to a hollow echo in the base your throat and knew you’d lost something special before you’d ever had a chance to say anything worthwhile. You checked under the bed and tried the lost and found, but couldn’t even ask if anyone had heard it lately.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that you are going to die. You are dying right now – your cells are shedding like snakeskin and your hair is turning silver and every moment is one less than
i'm sorry for only writing sad things,but saturday night i wanted to offend godi'm sorry for only writing sad things,9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
into listening to just one line- needed to drag someone
into hearing the roar between my ears with me.
i'd like to write something you can put music to-
lyrical and pretty. funny. maybe irreverent.
but today what is most real to me
is not laughter. it is feeling short of breath.
empty of poetic language. unfunny. too long
for a limerick. unsuited to sonnets. musical only
in the slamming of my heart. an erratic beat
at best. endings. comparing crises of the mind
to someone throwing up in the bathroom
after too much beer pong and hard rock-
both are shameful to repeat in therapy
and i feel like i cannot stop ruining parties.
needing steady hands for these atlas shoulders
that will not relax. staircases white like
imagined hospitals. thinking i should say
call me an ambulance. crying. not calling
an ambulance. not calling a taxi, i can't call
a taxi, i don't have money for a taxi, holding
my breath. 4, 7, 4. 4, 7, 4. in.