NonexistenceI pray to a God I have never seen,Nonexistence6 years ago in Open More Like This
who lives in a world that has never been,
to save my heart that has never felt,
from eternity's failures, eternity's guilt.
My feet step on grounds no men stepped before,
my lips taste the poison, bitter and sore,
yet it does not kill me,
does that mean,
that I am immortal,
or that I've never been?
I pray to a God that may not exist,
while the iron shackle tears up my wrist,
to tell me the difference of being and not,
to show me the memories that I forgot.
My mind flies to places nobody has reached,
to learn that the stars are nothing but bleached,
spots on the dark, they're not even light,
I think that's 'cause real light brings nothing but fright:
It's bound to discover
all crimes, neatly covered.
I pray to a God because maybe he is,
unlike me and the world,
in them I miss
something to reach.
Sweat, Spice, and ScarsYour eyes,Sweat, Spice, and Scars3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.
I want my insides back.
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.Maybe2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One substantiated claim to reality,
that I might hold onto life with.
Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs you
for a shred of dignity with my tea.
Just one chance for something heavy,
something hard and room temperature. Real.
I don't want to look through my day dreams
and see someone else's face there.
I don't want to dream of those people
who may make, or break me, in the future tense.
I am tired of milky white and reflective black.
It is time for a life of colour and hope -
and not looking back to see if the past
matches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.
I want to be in the game, participating,
feeling, like I might make it there one day.
Just give me something, that I can hold onto;
something harder to see through than a whisper
of that voice in the back of my mind that says
how to be a writergrab a sharpie and paint your nose,how to be a writer2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
(yes even under your eyes)
write about them.
adopt a dishonest love for
and showcase it with your speech;
fill it to the brim with references.
especially if you haven't read him
and don't know who he died
listen to music you will never like
to write verses everyone else
make them say yes
when you're writing about saying
glorify your sadness.
it can be innovated
and every chance you get
fall in love with people you
know your parents will hate.
love till you are out of space to
write about the sea
and how it's fucking
write about space and how
the universe is either against you
or with us all in equal
behind your words;
start writing the truth
with your lies.
engulf metaphors in the morning,
find depression a
WhitewashI am buying some teaWhitewash2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in a glass bottle
on a college campus.
Nobody is here after
7pm, not even the
Everyone wants to
get in their cars
and find home.
lots of waiting.
An old friend passes me
on the stairs.
We make jokes
Hell is a quiet place.
The silver token bottle cap
I Am...I am an observer,I Am...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I watch as you fall
and I won't make a move
to answer your call.
I am dishonest,
it has been since my smallest years
that I let my truth into others ears.
I am a composer,
of a great many lies
yet carry luck like a clover
I never break my disguise.
Through those heat filled faces surrounding me
I can just barely see
and sometimes I find nowhere to run
they take over me.
I am rarely awake with sun,
so that when everything slips undone,
I will not be exposed
I will always stay composed.
I keep my secrets like stars keep distance
burning bright beneath my skin
defining my existence
out of reach and filled with sin.
Never trust a word I say,
I lie to everyone every day
and this is the only time
I will admit
that I am unlike you in many ways.
Who I am is just this: a secret to hold
and I will show no one
no matter how bold.
Full Up Like a Landfill [Transformers Prime]"Ratchet," Arcee said from behind him. She kept her distance, gave him space, didn't let her field cross with his. "We'll get him back."Full Up Like a Landfill [Transformers Prime]2 years ago in Drama More Like This
Orange and white plating shook. The medic gripped the tool in his hand before finally letting it go and it clattered noisily to the floor as he took in a sharp gasp. Cleanser reserves flushed, veiling his vision in a blur, overflowing in a quick release from tightly shuttered optics. He brought an arm to his faceplate to hide it, but could do nothing to stop the choked anxiety that emitted from his vocalizer.
Now the two-wheeler stepped forward, small servo and petite fingers resting on Ratchet's arm. Her sensors immediately lit up with readings of his field, marred and at a frequency that was hard to grasp.
"We'll get him back," she repeated, and Ratchet shook his helm hard.
"How do you know?" He barely got it out through the sobs, and then pushed his faceplate into both servos.
Arcee felt her vocal gears tighten. She let her optics close, taking in
Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai IHyakumonogatari Kaidankai I3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Soft white cherry blossoms slowly fell like snow during that fateful night
A couple, a woman in white and a man in black, stood face to face with a lady with silver hair and golden eyes.
"Chiyo-sama, before you seal us away promise to us that you will watch over of them."
The silver-haired lady slightly nodded and used an incantation which made the couple disappear from sight.
The lady then picked up an old box on the ground, covered with cherry blossoms. She stared at it for a while and looked up to the solemn dark sky
The end of one story is the beginning of another one
Thirteen years ago, an army of yokai plagued the town of Tsukiya. It etched fear in every human heart.
Just when hope was almost lost, a mysterious, silver-haired woman stood up against them.
She fought against the army's two most powerful yokai. She defeated them and sealed them in a box along with the lesser
on yearning to be something I'm not.I think in a previous life,on yearning to be something I'm not.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I must have been a coyote.
An ugly beast with an
ugly heart, with howls
echoing across ten thousand
"Please, give me the moon;
I can no longer stand the heat of
This world mocks me.
More love for a
night alone in
a winter's forest than
the lonesome aching in
my heart, I only
want to run with the
this desert-weary soul is
merely chasing rabbits across
empty highways. A coyote only
deserves putrid carrion and
not the thrill of the hunt—I am but a
song dog keening into the night for
the fangs of wolves to keep me cold.
30 Days of Makorra - Day 8 - UmbrellaThe rain came on sudden. Mako had been walking home when the sky opened up with a loud crack of thunder and a flash of lightning. Running under an awning, he wrapped his arms around his chest and gazed up at the dark sky. It was nighttime, late, and he sighed with the realization that he was still some distance away from home. He had a long, cold, wet walk ahead of him, and he was not looking forward to it.30 Days of Makorra - Day 8 - Umbrella3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Doesn't look like it's going to get better anytime soon," he mumbled to himself. "I guess I better get going." Pushing off the wall of the building, he stepped out into the downpour with no small amount of dread. He wished, not for the first time, that he could heat his skin with some fire-bending, but so far as he had noticed, it simply didn't work that way.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been trudging through the rain, his gaze downcast for most of the walk. Suddenly, it stopped, or so it seemed. He no longer felt the rain hitting his skin, but he could still hear it falling. Frown
How are you? - POEMHow are you? - POEM3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You would come to me and ask me how I was doing
"How are you doing?"
Thus is the everyday question asked by a person to another
But instead of the everyday answer of,
"And how are you?"
I'd go on to say that it's a lovely morning today
The sun was beating on my window this morning
The chirping of birds waking me before the alarm
That it's not too warm, yet not too cold
That today's weather is lovely
And you'd agree and I'd point out that you got a new haircut
That it really suited you,
Better than what it had looked like before
You'd give your thanks with a nod of the head
And even though I had done nothing to my own hairstyle
You'd still say that it's looks better than ever
And I'd give my thanks with a bob of the head
And I'd tell you that it was starting to smell like winter
You couldn't tell though could you?
You can smell rain coming,
But not the winter air
But I would tell you t
pressure.she was cracked in places only she could feel, and where the blood could only be tasted, and not seen.pressure.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her lips, fingertips and inside her chest. she learned that there are certain body parts prone to being cut or bruised, and her white laced knees could attest to that. but there comes a time when cutting your leg on the coffee table or pinching your stomach with your belt buckle, isn't an accident anymore. its something more, and you know it is. but you can go so long without ever admitting it to yourself, and even longer for anyone else.
MorphHe pinned the butterflyMorph2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to the card,
the dry rot
of blue wings
in the warm room.
it seemed a stranger,
not the imago
unfolding in the jar
of the wet season,
but a legless pupa
Fullmetal greedFull Metal Alchemist: Greed Fan Fiction: In the LabFullmetal greed4 years ago in Settings More Like This
The dark red walls enclose me. I feel hunger growling inside me, but not hunger for food, this was something else. I am hungry for power, to devour the world and keep it. Everything should belong to me, I thought again, and I will have it.
Once again I tried to get up, but there was a strange force keeping me down. It turned my body into led, my legs refused to move. I can't move, my body is too heavy. Once again I force myself to stand up, but the force crushes down on my and pushes a black mist into my head. I try again but the mist is to strong and I'm dragged back into my dreamless sleep.
I don't know how many years have gone by, probably two hundred. I can hear movement above me, were the men back? I don't know where they keep coming from but once and again people will find my hole, my crimson prison. I twitch my fingers and try to get up, with little success. Was I stuck here till the world ended? My bountiful world, full of eve
MutantHear me read itMutant2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a mutant.
| My skin does not sallow in the sun
and I do not blush jaundice through my cheeks.
| I do not have extra fingers, or toes -
although my spine;
it boasts an ironic vertebrae,
it is a long tally of the hearts I have broken
and when I straighten my spine the bones Pop out of place.
I am out of place.
| I do not have a super power,
I lack exceptionality in all but my ordinariness.
| there is a vengeful bacteria feasting -
on my shoulder places;
Network Races: NymphsRACES OF THE NETWORKNetwork Races: Nymphs2 years ago in Profiles More Like This
TERMS- HISTORY - POPULATION - RACIAL FEATURES - TODAY - NOTABLES
- 'Nymph' is the general term. Major classes of nymphs are those of water (naiad), vegetation (dryad), land (oread), caves (lampad), and fire (igniad).
- 'Nymph' can have nudge-nudge-wink-wink connotations, so they're alternately called elemental humanoids by the politically correct and the stuffy.
- Are traditionally referred to with female pronouns though they're not inherently gendered beings.
- Technically they're not a race or even a species, because they have no hand in the creation of new nymphs and existing nymphs have nothing like a social society or culture. If anything, they are a sporadic natural phenomenon that happen to be self-aware.
- Nymphs are sentients that come to be in places of concentrated natural magic. (Such places are the result of the Network's closely overlying neighbor dimension- which leaks the mad
VoicesI hear them at night.Voices3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They whisper to me.
The darkness that surrounds us is filled with nightmares.
I'll never break free.
The pain will never stop.
I'm never going to live through this.
It's just too much.
I hear them like screams.
Tormenting my brain.
I don't want to lose this fight.
I'm far too strong.
I used to be perfect.
My mind caught on so quickly.
Now all I do is talk to myself.
Rock back and forth.
I shake a lot.
I'm not safe and I know it.
The voices in my head might be right.
things I learned at 11 am while I was half-asleepithings I learned at 11 am while I was half-asleep2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I’m spending most of my time
not crying, and I’m sorry,
but I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone
as much as aspirin, or lullabies,
or the cheap wine sold for two dollars a bottle,
or overly-apologetic letters bending over backwards
to make a point of themselves, or the pink petals
blooming on my wrists like flesh and blood miracles,
or the songs named after women
things may not change,
but you will have to.
I am most alone
surrounded by people
and the buzzing in my head of words
that should have lost their meaning
back when I discovered
they never meant anything
Dedications are only relevant
to people who appreciate shitty poetry,
or you. Insanity is writing the same thing
over and over and expecting it not
to sound clichéd.
and as much as anyone will swear otherwise,
I am a statistic. A number, an example,
a case study in the manipulation of
narcissism and moving on