Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
[even broken wings
wish for happily ever afters]
[once upon a time
there was a girl who became her own hero.]
SolsticeOnce upon a time, when you were still sunlighthouses and shimmering existence wherever you were needed most, you found him. He was November, shaky on his first last legs, and you saw through the mind-twistings he feigned to the mind-twistings that were really there, knotted up in his dreams.Solstice3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
You were still birdsong then, and thunderstorms, and your bodyheat melted the frost claws that held him tight. You held onto him as his November deepened. When he howled, you howled with him, and the wind played with your voices and pressed the softness of your lungs against your cageribsand then against each other's.
November became solstice, and you felt him shiver through that long night and didn't mind the coldbitten nails that grazed your skin. He slept when the moon drowned below the treeline, but the iceflakes began to drift in like small animals seeking the pulsing riverheat of your blood, and chilling you. He lay there, vulnerable as his world turned slowly towards the light, and you
A War InsideBroken eyesA War Inside2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Trembling hands and shattered hearts
Don't you see there's war inside?
Taken life and weakened mind
Don't you know she's fallen apart?
Where this soul stopped
and gave in
a war inside.
IntroductionsHear me read itIntroductions2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
I take my valium with cola, I'm a very complex lady.
Full of contradictions. I sometimes always answer vaguely.
If you ask me how I am, you better know I'll always lie
and if I fall in love with you, you're probably gonna die.
Life's not always kind to me, I try to stay upbeat
but please don't ask me how I am if I cry in the street.
I don't like to be looked at, I hate to be ignored,
I'm right, you're wrong, so be prepared for a broken record.
I stick up for the little guy, unless that guy is me
and if I do you a favour then I'd never charge a fee
I'm really bad at rhyming, but I think you kinda guessed
whoops, I'm sorry, backtrack now, I guess that I transgressed.
I'm sugarly sweet but bitter, I think that hope's a noose
I'm funny and outgoing, but somehow a recluse.
People mistake sweetness for weakness, I tell them I don't mind
I can run rings around you without being unkind.
Generally I'd have to say, I'm not my bigges
jelly beansRyan’s hands shook on the cold metal doorknob. On the other side of the door, he had no idea what condition he would find Nora in. All he knew was that he’d received a call from North Pine Hospital at two o’clock in the morning regarding a Miss Nora Anne Hartford, who’d been admitted earlier and who had him listed as his first point of contact.jelly beans1 year ago in Scraps More Like This
He’d driven there half asleep, swerving back and forth on the dimly lit country roads. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten into an accident and wound up in the hospital himself.
Now, taking a deep breath and clenching his teeth, he opened the door and let himself in. The room was small and white. Ryan frowned at the scent of antiseptic. God, he hated hospitals.
Nora was sitting up in bed in a hospital gown, her wrist up close to her face. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that she was trying to rip an I.V. out of her hand with her teeth.
“Nora! What are you doing?” Ryan asked, horrified.
1. introductionYou, whose head is in the clouds,1. introduction2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
While I stand on the shelf;
Send one ear deep underwater –
Let me introduce myself.
Your eyes are closed, your case is wrong,
Your pride's intact but not for long.
You never really understood
Or progressed, like you thought you would.
But what do I know? Who am I?
What I say might be a lie.
I am one that you may know,
You are me three days ago.
There's nothing, now, that you can do
To change what lies ahead.
Two days from here, without a doubt,
You'll be wishing you were dead.
Of the first to go is pride –
The pain will drain you hollow.
But don't mistake me, it's your fault,
So arrogance will follow.
For the first time in a while
Your feet will touch the ground.
After that, your knees, your face
Your tears will fall without a sound.
But it's okay, it will be fine
So don't go yet young self of mine.
The clouds, for all their space is worth,
Forget the sweetness of the earth.
You're a fool and I am strange;
Tomorrow next's the day for change.
DepressionThis feeling, it pollutes my very coreDepression2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Leaving it rotted and tearing apart piece after piece.
It is a black thing, corrupting everything it brushes against
Leaving me in a will drained state.
Depression; a tired rage or sadness
No one has come to understand.
A flash of pain follows every thought of family and friends,
Leaving me with my head in my hands begging for an end.
I have not a single word, not a flick of my tongue;
That can even come close to describing how I feel.
My whole body feels like it is cracking into pieces
Planning to leave me as nothing more than a face smiling in a frame.
I’ve turned all that I loved against me,
Now ‘tis the time I answer for my crimes;
I can feel my mind falling into an un-savable saddened depth
Its swimming in my skull trying to find a way to drown itself.
I don’t know why depression in habits one’s being,
Nor do I understand how it has come to be
But it corrupts,
And destroys all that is dear to me.
HauntedI could feel your presence again last night.Haunted1 year ago in Scraps More Like This
Why, why do you keep coming from where I can't reach you...
It's done. Death did us part. Don't you understand!
Do not haunt me anymore.
Go back to where you belong...
To the living.
cutleryfall up the moon,cutlery10 months ago in Scraps More Like This
and talk if you want
(but she might not talk back).
one word to use but fingers
hailing with skins, and bones, and
maybe even the veins of a poet
saying there's not enough razors
to open her lungs.
fall up the moon,
and talk if you want
(but kneecap letters
and river-run wrists
might never talk back).