Idiocy"Can I ask you a question?"Idiocy9 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
"How do I turn my Playstation on."
Oh, fuck me. Another one. "There is a switch on the back. It has a circle and a line on it. Flip it."
"I did that. It won't turn on."
"Is it plugged in?"
"Is what plugged in?"
"The wall socket."
"Should it be? I thought it was battery powered!"
"..no. Take the cord, and plug it in."
"The one with the plug and the square and circle on the other end."
"There is nothing like that."
"It's long and flatter than the other one."
"Oooh. You mean this one with the yellow red and white wires?"
"..no. I mean the other one."
"But this is the controller!"
"JUST PLUG ONE OF THEM IN."
"Okay okay." (there are tinkering noises and then a click as he hangs up.)
(Two hours later)
"Hey, is this the guy I talked to about the PS2?"
"I plugged that thing in, and my house shorted out! What the hell?"
"..what did..you plug in?"
"The thing with the yellow cords. I stuck it int
To a NihilistYou are a collection of atomsTo a Nihilist1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
expressing sentimental miscellanea,
introverted processes designed by coincidence
to always prove the theory of chaos,
I am unstable,
but you are decomposing. I wonder,
sometimes, if you contemplate futility or peace
or constance or value or the fate of our mortality
in a universe that holds its dead stars
for millennia, a history of dust,
but then I remember
And that is what you never learned,
never sought to.
SensesIt's too dark to see, but I can hear you near me, breathing quietly in my ear. You're still shivering a little bit from earlier, and I can hear it in your breathing.Senses9 years ago in Erotic More Like This
I can feel the heat from your body as you lie near me, and I can feel what you want from the way you're trembling. I feel your arm gently wrap around my hips as you turn on your side and begin to lick my earlobe. Can you feel the way my body tightens when you do that? You know how to torment me.
"Open your mouth," you murmur quietly, taking the lobe into your teeth, and I can't help but oblige. God, do you know what you taste like? Do you know that I'm starting to shudder and we haven't even gotten down to it.
I can't see you, but I can feel the shape of your body on top of me. Who gave you the right to be so beautiful? I can only wonder for a moment because God! do you know what you do when you move like that and do you know what you're doing to me my God you must know you must know.
The only thing I can feel is you and y
a quoi ca sert l'amourShe remembered that night better than he did. The way he was dressed, how he talked, what he ate, where he was stayingthe ring on his finger, fresh from January, and it shined under the dim light, her warning sign to stay away; a warning sign she took seriously and knew well. She kept the thought vigilant in her mind with every fidgeted rub to her own naked ringfinger under the table, the ghost of the engagement then and the marriage that never was. Her boyfriend beside her should've been reason enough to resist the obvious magnetism and subsequent temptation, but she found herself captivated by this man of her French homeland, who listened to every word she said with a rapt attention her boyfriend would never match. He kept conversation going. He asked questions and listened to her babbling answers. He made her feel special in a way that the Hollywood gift baskets and showering of flashing lights and Al Pacino and Entertainment Tonight couldn't replicate. He was real. He made hea quoi ca sert l'amour3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
An Angel's DespairThe throbbing pain against her ripped jeans had gone numb, as had the cold bloodstained pavement, covered with shattered glass. In the whirling haze of lashing wind she could still see the thundering clouds of night. She whispered in darkness, rain wet against her cracked lips, "I broke my wings."An Angel's Despair5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I Walk Above The EarthMy steps glide above the landscape.I Walk Above The Earth3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am my own center of gravity.
My soles hover above the crust.
My soul does not reach down to the core.
I am not in orbit with the planet,
My sun holds me inside my mind.
My moon of my conscious tugs my tides.
I pull my own satellites of thought.
As asteroids of fraught crash into me,
An interstellar war ravages my head.
As creatures of the Earth pay no heed to my presence;
I am an alien to their world.
I traverse through my own galaxy,
Trying to unravel my own mysteries of space.
Points of light in my void take shape to constellations,
But I lose myself in my nebula of doubt.
I come in peace to your humble globe,
My body belongs to the outer reaches space ships cannot touch.
I fumble endlessly in the vacuum of my universe;
My feet do not touch the Earth.
I am simply floating through,
As I make my way,
Into the gravity of my black hole.
Goodbye Dear Mom,Goodbye5 years ago in Transgressive More Like This
I'm not a good son. I wanted to open with that because once the truth is stated, there's nothing left to hide. I'm not. It's alright, I know. I could have been spending more time with you, maybe just to talk or to listen. I didn't. I'm selfish. I've always been.
Some regrets we carry until the day we die. Some memories we cherish until that day as well. I remember Dad calling me on his cell. I had it because I was working for him. I was at the dump. I was emptying the flatbed of garbage with Robert. I remember the smell. It was stifling.
When Dad told me, I was numb. I was numb to the reality, numb to the stagnant air of refuse discarded by our society. I was numb to the nail that pierced the heel of my shoe and punctured my foot only moments after I learned. I remember the tetanus shot.
You have cancer. You have it your lung. A destructive cell that will spread through your system, attacking you. Killing you from th
IsolationA hundred buildings,Isolation4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A thousand cars,
A million faces,
And a billion lights.
As you walk through
This crowded city,
With so many people
And so many things,
You are always alone.
Why I'm AliveHe could already see the blood pooling on the hard wooden floor.Why I'm Alive5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
It had only been moments but it seemed like it was a lot longer, forever in fact.
The pain should have been breath taking.
But how could it be when he didn't have any breath left to take?
It had only been moments, it seemed like years.
The pain was dulled, like a distant memory, like he was only semi-attached to his body.
He could tell it hurt. It was meant to hurt. It wasn't a dull throb; it was just dulled, like he was in a different reality to his body.
He just couldn't feel it like he should. It was a numb thought in the back of his head, it wasn't blinding pain in the forefront of his mind like he knew it was, and was supposed to be.
He knew that should worry him.
But he couldn't worry about it, he couldn't worry about anything.
He was floating, drifting, fading in this fog, a place some where in between life and death, and he knew he should hold on, fight, cling to the dulled, numbed, pain and never let go.
A Title About HeavenThe Other took The Speaker's hand.A Title About Heaven4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Why are you holding my hand...?" the question was blown softly into the night.
"Because it proves that you are real," murmured The Other, "And I haven't held your hand in such a long time."
"Perhaps I'm not real," smiled Speaker, "Maybe I'm just in your mind, your dreams."
"You are real," came the solid reply, "Because I love you and as long as I love you, you'll always be real."
"You've never held my hand before, not properly," muttered The Speaker.
"Because I've never come so close to losing you," said The Other, "Those days before you left I was worried that you were imaginary. That you were too good to be true. When you came back I realised that you were real. And now I'm not scared to hold your hand anymore."
"What if one day I don't come back....?" asked The Speaker.
"Then I'll be glad that for one day, one moment, I touched your hand and kissed your lips. I'll be glad that you were real."
The Dream DiaryTaken from a journal belonging to Patient 357 after he was checked in by a relative. Patient suffers from sleep disturbance, delusional paranoia, and self-injury. Further analysis needed.The Dream Diary2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This is what I remember: when I woke in my own consciousness, I was standing in a field of corn. The stalks were as impossibly tall as they had seemed in my childhood. I reached for an ear and peeled the green husk away from it, rubbing the cornsilk between my fingers until it disintegrated, gray and ashy.
At once, I fell to the ground, pushed by the strong hands of someone unseen but undeniably malignant. There was mud on my back, cold and soaking, and I began to cry because I knew my aunt would be furious when she saw me. I tried to stand again, to wipe it away, but my body was leaden. Even lifting my fingers was arduous, painful: I felt like I was condensing, preparing for implosion, but woke once more, this time in the sinews of reality, my bed hazy and soft beneath me. I struggle
Into a CongoShocks rippled southInto a Congo3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
realmed a loss and screened a track
stacks strung low and around again
She wanted the feeling of mica between her teeth
like lashes on a chiseled tree
totaled through and ruffled down
up and around again
Court and run south and
wrecked a home, she sat still
her knees knit together
unraveled over and into raw skin, over and into
she bloomed her hair into a Congo
It peeled like rose petals beneath her feet
a sheet strung high and low and around again
She said tell me why, but her fingers curled
around your head, around your neck, slowly
and then her shoulders
tired.it never left her, not completely. there was a crumbling over the edges of her veins, that would cave in a little more when the memories were too rough with her fragile insides. the day she almost completely collapsed was a wednesday, with rain washing the streets so they shined like diamonds, or oil she wasn't sure. the train was late, she was soaked to the bone, possibly deeper. never ever as deep as he reached her. when it finally turned up, it rattled and roared into station with a force that shook some thoughts out of the back of her mind, and he thought about falling in front of it. it stopped before she could, but then a man walked in front of her with the same cheekbones and the same lifeless hair and she was shaken silently to the core and stood there motionless for what felt like forever.tired.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
she almost heard him spit something meaningless but venomous at her, tearing through her like bullet holes.
she almost didn't feel it.
she was almost used to it.
soul to soldier.don't pretend to besoul to soldier.1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
biblical, my love-- you are
nothing more than heart.
To His Coy Mistress[es]i. earl and lady greyTo His Coy Mistress[es]2 years ago in Letters More Like This
you have often graced me with your soft-spoken company, bergamot blossoms adorning your dark hair, fragrant as your steamy exhalations. you remind me of simple home and something untouchably elegant, pale and supple when i dress your skin with pallid cream and soften your thin, graceful hands. on a bleak winter evening, snow glittering by lamplight, you are a royal pleasure: a warm complement.
i will lay you on the finest saris, those embroidered with gold threads and flawless diamonds that shimmer like your black eyes. you are the champagne of my harem, floral yet astringent, fine-boned cheeks seeking nothing less than perfection. your tiger soul knows your worth, seductive and mysterious; in the autumn, you remind me of leaves ripe with color, falling from my desperate touch: a distant lover.
you are the sun's daughter birthed by soil, a celestial soothing who blooms
Death's BalladShatter the air, my love;Death's Ballad4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
breathe into it
tendrils that bend
to the will of the moon;
a confessional tide,
silent from a distance;
rushing, crashing on
the sands of transgression.
Burst like a bubble, my love;
lie on the coast
like sea foam fading
from the wave that left it there.
Open your chest
until steam rises from it;
until parasitic life crawls out
and at last abandons its host.
Sink into the ript
humanwatchingpeople are made of little more than water and phobia,humanwatching3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
carbon and ideal, tremorous exhalations from organs
lined with passing thoughts; yesterday you slept for
hours wracked with fever, still murmuring for fancies.
often timescurling vines are my fingers turning backoften times5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on themselves and creeping up the wall of my
bedroom to find cracks and escape to the unwavering light
that shines on the wall through your looking glass eyes full
of sky and falling diamonds that scatter with piano sounds
onto the knotted hardwood floor beneath my nervous feet
that leave shadows like mice and night time creatures which linger
in the corners of my house you chase them from the fire place with
a flashlight to your wide-grin face and jeering angles of
light on dark on skin and bones that you swear will
be buried next to mine in the backyard under stones that
have our names in them as if we own the earth within that
five-foot-seven and five-foot-nine plot of wrinkled grass
that i mention will look like my hair when i'm old if you're
still around to see it that way i hope you are but i hope you
think it beautiful and not grassy and not full of gloomy ideas
that escaped my mind and got caught in the wisps of earl
Your MoveAll Im saying, she frowned, uncrossing and recrossing her legs under the table, is that he shouldve been a man about it. I dont see why he couldnt say it to my face. You just dont do that sort of thing over the phone. Not after eight months! Rook to C8.Your Move6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He nodded, readjusting his glasses as shed found that he was apt to do when shed made a move he didnt expect. That does seem really cheap, he admitted, peering down at the board like an old man. Did he give you a reason at all? Rook to C1.
She let out a huffy breath and tossed one of her long braids over her shoulder, immediately drawing it back to run her hands over while she thought. Yes. Her hand fluttered over her rook for a moment before she drew it back, eyes darting around the board as she guessed at the succession of moves that would follow that choice. He said she trailed off, tightening her lips and gra
My freckles are cancer.My freckles are cancer.My freckles are cancer.6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I tell you this calmly. I am twenty one years old.
My freckles are cancer. You look down,
drawn to the spoiled canvas of my breasts.
I mouth the word malignant --
it breaks on my tongue,
and I clear my throat,
and try again.
Melanoma, I explain.
It began with the mole that
grew from a speck to a cloud,
till you kissed it and declared it the sky.
I talk about my options.
My beauty marks have become
the unwanted pregnancy
fucking everything up.
Your thumbs hide in your pockets.
I stumble over medical words,
so foreign from your poetry.
You hem and you haw.
There are no collect numbers,
for unwanted cancer. No
1-800 line to discuss my hair
rioting into my drain, defeated.
But oh to live in that moment now,
when you kissed me and my hair
washed auburn waves around us.
You told me it'd be okay, and I
I believed you.
FFM 2012, July 23 - Maslow's Androids"Whose goddamned idea was it to combine Asimov with Maslow?" The Virginian panted. His hands were bound in front of him, and around his neck a leather cord leashed him to the back of the android's horse.FFM 2012, July 23 - Maslow's Androids3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Presumably whoever made them?" The Doctor was allowed to ride the donkey, as the androids deemed him more important. More important and more squishy. "Don't complain. Without the one, you'd be dead!"
"And without the other, I'd be free." The Virginian stopped for a second, which only made the cord snap him half-off his feet. "Hey, watch it oilbucket!"
The android ignored him. They were a party of five, plus the two humans. The Arizona desert had never been more arid; every day it was closer to the Sahara, which people said now covered all of central Africa.
In the evening, the Virginian was set to gather kindling and wood, start the fire, tend to the horses and set up the tent. The Doctor, in the meantime, saw to the androids. One had been stung by a horsefly and the venom was not agr
San Antonioi like the idea that someday i'll wear your dogtagSan Antonio3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
while you're states away;
lovers in name but barely in practice,
an idea without obligations.
i like the idea that someday you'll be happy,
in San Antonio, surrounded by dogs
you'll meet someone, not me,
who lights up your eyes, who makes you laugh.
i like the idea that you'll call me, hurting,
conflicted, loving this other woman,
while a world away i turn your dogtag
between patient fingersand smile
i like the idea that i'll say i love you,
i'm letting you go.
The Door of Our Cottage in the Western NightThey began on the beach, and a fire was raging upon the waters. A fire on one side of the world and one around the other. The earth had been unbruised, like an apple on a string, and then two stones had struck within a month, and everything had burned, slagged by deep space arrows. The wind was terrible. Everywhere was a howl with no direction.The Door of Our Cottage in the Western Night3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There were a few lichen-like communities in damp places, where the sky had steamed by but seared little, lifted ravines and streams from the land, unwrinkled it, dragon braille revealed only in fire. There were a few who had been underground, and a few in the inland seas and lakes, a few in the deeper rivers, a few on the moon, watching it go.
The moon folk were hit four weeks later, and there were no lunatic survivors.
Once again, we were alone. The world had been smoked and there was a smell of it everywhere, and we walked on the remains of the crater's basin lake. It was in
I try to hold on . . . Another scream tears through the air. I run toward it. Ansel, AnselI try to hold on . . .4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He's on the ground, not moving, moaning to himself. He lost his gun somewhere. What happened?
"Ansel!" I shout, collapsing on the ground next to him. His black hair sticks to his perspiring forehead, his grimy face twisted in pain. Blood trickles down the corner of his lip.
He starts shaking, cracking open his blue eyes. "Ri Riley. Go on. With the others."
"I'm not leaving you," I say. I set down my gun and scan the rest of his body. The blood is pooling around his torso, but I can't see the wound. Breathing through my mouth and looking at anything but the growing red puddle, I start to yank off his battered old jacket.
Ansel winces and grits his teeth. "Riley don't" He gags, then turns his head and throws up more red.
I start hyperventilating. "Danielle!" I scream, taking out my knife and cutting away Ansel's shirt. My hands shake so m