Mirror, MirrorI can't stand the sight of my reflection.Mirror, Mirror2 years 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
KalonaKalona3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Are you there?
In the darkest shadows,
Can you hear my plea?
I know that you are a fallen angel, fallen from Nyx's side.
Enprisoned in this earthy cave!
I can set you free!
Just give me a sign that you can hear me!
Kalona, you are my fallen immortal!
I will release you and you feathery beasts!
We shall all be free.
Free from this wasteland we call home!
I have the power, just say you hear me.
I hear you, now release me unto this world!
Ni una sola palabra mas.Ni una sola palabra más,Ni una sola palabra mas.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
detén tu reloj en el tiempo,
e imagina un mundo
un mundo solo para dos,
tu y yo.
Imagíname entre tus brazos
pegada a ti,ser con ser.
Imagina tus labios,
bebiendo de mí.
Yo,te imaginare entre mis piernas,
saciándome de ti.
Imagina, solo unos segundos,
toda una vida empapado en mi.
Ni una sola palabra más...
solo tus cinco sentidos.
La vista para contemplarme,
El gusto para saborearme,
y romperme por dentro de placer.
El tacto para acariciarme,
hasta lo más profundo de mi ser.
El oído para escucharme
y pedirte..otra vez.
El olfato para quedarte,
del olor a MI.
DespiertameEn el lecho de mi camaDespiertame2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
por debajo de la tela
el aliento de tu boca
tu perfume aún lo exhalo
esnifando cada gota derramada.
En un suspiro de tiempo
las cortinas de los ojos
Las palomas de tus manos
Surcan la cumbres,
tocan con sus alas
los picos rosados
de mi piel nevada.
Y los besos de tu labios
el valle de mis caderas,
las siembran de anhelo...
de ansias enajenadas.
La humedad de mi deseo
Como sombras de la noche
nos movemos en las sábanas,
arrugando ,deshelando nuestra cama...
Si algún día vuelves,despiertame...
porque me dormí..,
soñaba que aún estabas.
Hunger for beautyYou graduated from starvationHunger for beauty2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tired of being tired.
It's the little things that
keep you awake;
like the bones that make you feel
the mirror even whispers
that you're perfect
you don't mind it
when your throat burns.
A Flower of War - PrologueA Flower of War - Prologue2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Here it is. My ThunderCats 2011 Fanfic. It more than likely won't be very long.
It will however cover some rather graphic issues and the like. It's not a story for little kids, that's all I gotta say. I like a good MA fanfiction, I like the reality of it. It's not all candy and bullshit if you get my drift.
But, I did have to change a few things around to make this fic even possible. For starters.
It's a WileyKitXLion-O fic. So first thing first, if you don't like the idea, DON'T READ!!!
IT'S NOT A PEDOBEAR STORY!!!!
In this fic, WileyKit is sent into another demension where she spends ten years as MummRa's slave. In a sense she grows up but the the real world, only a few hours have passed. She's grown up but nobody else has aged at all.
So again, SHE'S A GROWN WOMAN NOT A LITTLE GIRL!
Just really need to stress that, because there are people out there who might not agree.
There will be sex scenes later on. I will put a label on these chapters to those who don't want to
Playing GodSometimes I like to pretend thatPlaying God2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm God, putting a pen to
paper and scripting out someone's
life like a puppeteer.
Maybe if I
wrote the epilogue in
my own blood, the
screams inside my
head wouldn't be as
real," is just an excuse
for killing off their
loved ones; I want to feel
their agony tenfold (because I
deserve to think I'm as heartless
as I feel).
El arte de la autopromocionEl arte de la autopromocion5 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Hace poco compré un libro llamado " I had be rather in the studio" (Prefiero quedarme en el estudio) de la autora Alyson Stanfield. Lo compré porque me llamó la atención su slogan "la guía para artistas: no más excusas para la autopromoción" .
Todos los artistas tenemos excusas para no "auto promocionarnos" , algunas de las más frecuentes excusas son : "no tengo tiempo" , "no sé por dónde empezar" , "soy muy introvertido/tímido" , "no tengo dinero" , pero la excusa más frecuente para no salir al mundo es "prefiero quedarme en el estudio / prefiero quedarme en mi casa".
Para que nuestro arte sea conocido tenemos que auto-promocionarnos. Es vital , es fundamental. Y más si quieres sacar dinero de tu arte.
¿Sabe tu vecino que dibujas? Si no , necesitas autopromoción de urgencia. Las primeras personas que necesitas enseñarle que dibujas es tu fam
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
Last night,I broke every bone in my bodyLast night,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so I could have a reason to drown
in the isolated ocean inside me.
when my dilapidated lungs finally caved in,
I swam ashore and crawled across the polluted sand.
Only glass-edged skin
and salt-licked eyelashes
can help me now.
Breathe of FireAmong the battered blades of grass, she laid dying. Gripping tightly, she began to rise . . .Breathe of Fire2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Defiance in her eyes . . .
The Man Who BurnsI am too sterile and staticThe Man Who Burns3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I can feel you walking away
Into the arms of the man who burns
But then again why would you stay
He is so young and beautiful
He lives life while I rehearse
Acting upon his desires
While I write about mine in verse
Our love was Russian roulette
Without bullets in the chamber
Passing the gun back and forth
Without any sense of danger
The fire in your heart has gone now
This cliché is not lost on me
Metaphorically I'm the water
That dampened our destiny
You said you would never leave me
But this contract was never binding
I want you to find your freedom
If there's a freedom worth finding
Beyond the love that we have
The excitement you used to feel
Believing that I was special
I was your sword, not your shield
In that I'd not only defend you
But I would fight for your love
But repetition led to tedium
I can see you have had enough
Your bruises have faded quicker
Than the cuts that sliced your skin
But beware that burns scar deeper
If you let that malign ma
Slender ManI was not always like thisSlender Man1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
This body isn't mine.
I changed when I was sent there-
My payment of his fine.
My arms, there's far too many.
My face has disappeared.
I've come to the conclusion
I'm something to be feared.
My woods are dark and lonely.
People come here sometimes.
They walk along the dark roads
Just taking their sweet time.
Often they find strange pictures
Of terrifying things
I attempt to help them but
I cannot stand their screams.
The static noise just follows,
They hear it, look, and run.
I guess my debt's been paid,
Because now I have no one.
Superficial MeFor your pleasure,Superficial Me8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I made a superficial me
I constructed something simple
so there could be a "we."
It was easy to pretend
because I wanted to believe
I could hide my cracks, my holes...
my needs... and my vulnerabilities.
But what is lost in the trade
between comfort and authenticity?
The price was too much to pay...
I found the cost... was me.
...in my entirity...
I abandoned free style dancing
for catious little steps.
I exchanged speaking my mind
for tightly holding my breath.
I went to bed at 10
instead of staying up all night
I gave in time and time again.
I lost my will to fight.
GolemWe remember when you dug us from the riverbank, but we forgive you. The water was cold and the people had need of us.Golem3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We remember when you divided and shaped us, but we forgive you. We were without form and the people had need of us.
We remember when you put us in flames, but we forgive you. We were soft and the people had need of us.
We recall the day when you sent us against swords. This we forgive. The people had need of us: we would not desert them when foes were near.
We remember when you broke us with hammers. Even this we forgive. The battle was won, and the people had no more need of us.
But though shattered, we remained on the hillside, for no people came to sweep the shards away. This too we forgive, for our eyes remained littering the ground and it allowed us to see.
We saw you crowned and we rejoiced though our own heads were shattered. We saw rings on your fingers and we applauded though our own hands were lost. We saw robes on your shoulders and we were glad, though our o
PetrificationIf skin were like rocks,Petrification7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hers would run smooth
but as her cheeks soften
with weeping, its her heart
that turns to
tautegorical -collabSomedays, I'm the sound of slamming doorstautegorical -collab6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shutting out the whisper of threehundredandsixty apologies
That maybe just don't deserve to be heard
And still other days, I'm television static
Surfing channels faster than fingers can click
Speaking through the mixed up voices
Of every game show grin, sitcom laugh reel and car crash news anchor out there
Trying to piece together the sentences I've been meaning to say
Since maybe my words aren't enough
Even if they are saying the same thing
[I'm almost fairly sure you deserve prettier phrases
than these chapped lips could ever mumble]
And Im standing here in crumbling doorways
Pulling suburban needles from your veins before
The infection spreads; tell me if beyond your
Glassy-eyed stares you can feel something
All I want to know is that beyond the numbness
That is suffocating your bones and crush
wasting usi want you, okwasting us3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i want you to be on your knees
all scraped and red and raw
like you're a child again
because that's all you ever
i want you to be aching
the way i've been aching
since the last rays of summer
said goodbye to us,
goodbye to us
and i want you to never forget
that just because
you don't remember my birthday,
that doesn't mean
forget the feel of my skin
for the first time
and that someday
this memory will stop hurting.
it never will,
and i promise you this:
every time it crosses your mind-
while you wait at the bus stop,
during a chemistry exam,
the next time a girl touches you
with her heart and not just her fingers-
every time it crosses your mind,
you're going to remember me
in extraordinary detail
and see me
like the extraordinary person
that i am,
boys that want you, boys that love you.1.boys that want you, boys that love you.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there are four kinds of love.
the first is honest.
the first is messy.
it’s smeared makeup.
it’s tears over a martini.
it’s people dancing alone.
it’s off-key singing, at the top
of your lungs.
it’s unmade beds.
it’s the hickey on your neck.
it’s the gasp he gave
when he first saw you,
how he missed your lips
when he tried to kiss you.
after he made you cry.
the second kind is what you feel
for the boy lying next to you.
there’s cigarettes in the ashtray,
panties on the floor,
a lump in your throat,
and he does not love you back.
the third kind is when you'll meet
and that little moment will stretch
into something huge and permanent,
into a month/six months/a year
of a million glances that you'd thought
it’s when you'll say nothing
and neither will he
because there will be no need
because he'll very nearly smile
and you'll know.
Meet the Hoods 3A/N: Bad news, Neros got a computer virus and lost everything. Now he's depressed and he will not come back until he gets a new computer. Poor him.Meet the Hoods 37 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Chapter 3: (Sabotage & Future)
Meanwhile, as the fox with Cosmo continued picking up the toys, four figures watched as they glanced at where Tails was.
The first figure frowned at the fox. He was a fat brown mouse with some light brown on most of his face and chest area with dark brown bushy eyebrows, dark brown hands, feet, and tail along with a red nose and reddish eyes. He wore a gold crown, a bluish tunic with a deep red cape and black belt to hold his sword. He was known only as the Mouse King.
The second one was a silver mechanical chicken with red tail feathers, a black mechanical feather chest, yellow legs, a yellow beak, and a gray body only wearing a belt. He was known as Scratch.
The third one was another robot that was green with a yellow collar, a screw for a belly, an antenna on his back, a drill for hands and a nose, and tank
A los indecisosUna guerra ha empezado,A los indecisos1 year ago in Philosophical More Like This
en el campo o en la ciudad.
Enemigos de siempre
Sabes no hay que tenerles piedad.
Limpiaremos esta àrea de la debilidad.
Te querrá distraer cualquier veleidad
Pero solo en la lucha está la victoria.
Sólo los que luchan obtendrán la gloria.
Sólo entre sangre la paz hallarás.
Esta es nuestra batalla.
Y entre la furia que estalla
Sólo ahí pleno estarás.
Aúnque en el suelo y ahogado en tu sangre te encuentres,
insultado escuchando a todos diciendo que mientes,
Es entonces, y solo entonces, que entre esas gentes
que el martirio y la gloria la obtengan nuestras huestes.
Por que en nuestra lucha cada batalla es victoria.
En la derrota donde hallamos la gloria,
por que hemos visto un camarada que siguió hasta morir.
No temas, no retrocedas.
Recuerda que al haber empezado a luchar, la gloria ya es nuestra.
AlasMultitud de voces a su alrededor. Allá donde se pierde el sentido, se pierde quien las escucha, prácticamente por inercia.Alas1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
Un futuro sacudido por un presente quebrado.
El rostro amargo de la desilusión no deja de reflejarse en el ir y venir de su sombra marchita.
Lamento ahogado que se consume en la desgana.
Un aleteo; coro de alas rotas, atrofiadas, desplumadas, que representan la triste obra de un cielo muerto.
sweet dreams, sweetheart..sweet dreams, sweetheart..10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sun has drawn its curtains,
the stars dance in the sky,
as butterflies kiss your sweet forehead,
I sing this lullaby.
The wind sighs in careless breezes,
and flowers fade away,
rest on feather pillows,
watch white sheets turn to grey.
Please rest well my lover,
I pray this slumber will not end,
as I'll tiptoe through the hallway,
and fuck your hot best friend.