preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
Fathers and DaughtersThe sun setting across the valley was a magnificent sight, bathing the land in gold and setting the sky on fire. Already people down there were setting up fires and playing music, another grand feast to celebrate the end of Innistrad's long night! "Avacyn has returned!" they cried, many already deep in their cups. "Humanity has prevailed!" they cheered, all of them happy to be alive. In the weeks since the archangel's return the human race had made a remarkable comeback against what, until then, had been almost certain doom. They were still intoxicated with it, and now that things had settled a bit they could indulge in their revelry properly. They had been doing so for days now.Fathers and Daughters3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Perched above them all at the top of the valley, arms behind his back, Sorin Markov wondered what they would all think if they knew he had created the angel they so praised. The thought amused him for a few seconds, but gradually it faded and he put it out of his mind. He found the fading light of the day much
GLACE: a yaoi romance 1GLACEGLACE: a yaoi romance 16 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
~A Yaoi Romance~
I sigh as I begin to unpack the box of canned food. I am already exhausted from my morning job; I deliver newspapers to local stores. After delivering the papers I check back in with the office, then I head home and take a shower, eat, then driver over to this grocery store. Once Im done here I have about a two hour break to rest. Later I head over to an office building where I work as a janitor.
I dont particularly enjoy any of these jobs, but they are all Ive got. Without them I would not be able to live on my own like I do. With these jobs I am able to buy my food, pay my rent and my odd number of bills. I can also feed my silky black cat, Shadow. I understand the jobs I do are needed parts of my life, without them I would not be as well off as I am. Ive been working since I was fourteen years old; at a grocery store, but not this one. When I was seventeen I moved out of my mothers house and moved out into my own little apartment
+Seven Songs - BL+His hands were calloused, though not rough. They were working hands, used often on the thick and thin strings of his acoustic guitar. Plucking and strumming, tightening and loosening. But they were never used in any manner other than gentle and thoughtful.+Seven Songs - BL+7 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Of course, only his guitar knew this. For any mortal eyes that ever lay a glance on the hands of Dominic would always think otherwise.
He spent his many days and nights in the attic of the ever-popular Café MalChick Lyubov. Playing his acoustic guitar (that he affectionately called Lucy), writing music, and relaxing. It was a quiet existence, filled with nothing but the peaceful sounds of silence and gentle music. Either sitting on the ledge of the only window in the cozy room, or sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor, he was always playing his guitar.
His cousin often asked him if he would ever play music for his café. But just the thought of being down there, in front of peoplestrangers, no lesssent an
LandscapeLandscapeLandscape5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
These worn old bones
Were built listening to the whispered secrets of my eons;
Clothed in hardscrabble curves desolate and grudging,
The fragile bloom of innocence plundered long ago
Storm-wrought crags of old scars
Beneath a veneer of life gone harsh and dry, obscured
I am the product of my own time
And would keep my own counsel,
A monument to endurance, tenacity absurd
Harsh and arcane
Bitter and needless.
Yet incrementally, as the winds of solitude weather me,
Lay me achingly bare beneath the blind and heedless —
Callous fixed and far blue gaze
Dimmed by rheumy cirrus haze —
I am sculpted by my own unrequited desires.
Your eyes seek enigma
Inherently understanding the lyrical breathless magnificence
Of old pain, long scorned.
Wayfarer of my recondite ways
In limning my forsaken form with the light of your love
You redeem the years of waiting
To you, I yield
My every hidden beauty.
comfortable sleep - shoujo-aiIt was late. Or perhaps it was early, depending on what you call those early hours between midnight and breakfast. As late as it was, none of the occupants of our small hotel room were asleep yet. Liz and I had been reading. My mother had been watching the news. The reading lamps and TV were on, all shining brightly into my tired eyes. It hurt to blink, but it also hurt not to blink and I remember doing both in equal measure until my eyes watered. I could feel the cold air leaking from the shivering aic-conditioner in the corner washing across my dried eyeballs, breathing across my eyelashes.comfortable sleep - shoujo-ai8 years ago in Teen More Like This
The yaoi manga I had been reading slipped to my fingertips until I could barely even hold it up. I figured I had enough strength left to pick it up and place it on top of the towering stack of gay porn I had amassed in the dealer's room before I passed out from lack of energy. However, it took a full five minutes of concentrating before my brain was able to coax my limbs into movement. Dearly hopi
Half Made WholeLong years I wrote, to try to fill the hollow —Half Made Whole3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
That perfect understanding death denied me;
Where acceptance promised, I would follow…
Bitterness and longing walked beside me.
Arising from the nadir of my choice,
I lifted up my jaded eyes to find
My heart and hopes were echoed in your voice;
My thoughts and visions mirrored in your mind.
Your stars and mine are synchronized, it seems —
The other half, for which I’d always pray:
You say the things I've only ever heard in dreams
I tell you what I've only ever hoped to say.
+The Teutonic Knight+ Part I: IN HOC SIGNO VINCES+The Teutonic Knight+ Part I: IN HOC SIGNO VINCES3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
+ The Teutonic Knight +
Part I: In Hoc Signo Vinces
It was very fortunate, he supposedas the snowflakes drifted down before his eyesvery fortunate indeed to have the Mother of God as one's patroness. Tancred von Marienburg pulled the cowl of his hood further down his face as another piercing gust of wind hissed through the stark-thin trees. A solitary figure in the immense, tractless forest, the young knight rode aimlessly through the ever-deepening snow. The road had long been buried under a veil of white, so that with each step, his horse sank up to its belly in the crisp, frozen snowdrift. As he rode over a particularly high mound of snow, he felt the soles of his boots brush the top layer with a soft, whispered hushing sound. Wherever he turned he glimpsed that eternal blanket of blinding, smarting white. When he looked up from the shadowy folds of his cloak, his eyes were dazed with the uniformity of white, as though the world gazed at him through a large
If Richard Was My BoyfriendIf Richard Was My Boyfriend10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If Richard Was My Boyfriend
If Richard was my boyfriend
he would be so in love with me!
He would tell me each and everyday
that I am just so pretty!
He would buy me lots of really cute things
like flowers, teddies and candy
And he also really wouldn't mind,
If I got it on with Paulie
Oh the fun Richard and I would have
each and every day!
Walks on the beach, strolls in the park,
I'll show everyone Rammstein's not gay!
He would go play shows
and I would tag along!
I'd get that one "special backstage pass"
(Oh yeah! I'll get to see that shlong!)
Not only that!
BUT HIS ASS IS PHAT!
I'll get to check out that pristine chest!
I'll rub him all over
so he gets nice and hot
And he just knows
Which is my "one special spot"
Of course I'll know
That he's super romantic and stuff
because he really will love me,
and I'm all about that sorta fluff
He'll enjoy picking me lots of pretty flowers,
they'll be purple, pink and red
And he will wrap each one up in a bow
And lay them on my bed
And I will bou
Care PackageTo wish you happy birthday, friendCare Package2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I stuffed an envelope to send
With in-jokes, hugs, a kiss or two,
The things that I adore in you.
The songs we share and sing aloud,
The compliments that made me proud,
The times you’ve made me laugh and cry,
The way the hours with you sail by,
The conversations late at night,
The wonders that we jointly write
In escalating inspiration
And joy in our collaboration…
Adventures that we daydream of,
Understanding, trust, and love.
Alas, but I was doomed to fail —
It simply got too large to mail!
Not WelcomeThe living be not welcome hereNot Welcome2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
The place we specters do hold dear
In fragile dreams of days long past
Among splintered wood and shattered glass
ClearlyThank you forClearly4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
The new lenses
By which to see the world
Rose always led me astray
In traffic — I couldn't tell
Red from green
Just never suited me.
JonesyYour quiet masks a million glories —Jonesy4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tell me all your wondrous stories!
Take me on your journeys, wending
To the sweet or bitter ending.
With sagas dark and incandescent —
Inspiration, sharp and true
Ever spilling out of you.
Traveler in search of dreams…
Ideas bursting at the seams.
Wise beyond your years, insightful,
Kind and charming, droll, delightful.
These lines for you are but a token
Of all the things we leave unspoken.
Companion in creations clever…
Partner, and best friend forever.
The TrundlerThe Trundler4 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
HastingsHastings3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On Senlac Hill, the grasses blow,
The forest hums with song;
Old Senlac Hill, by Hastings town
Gleams cold and all alone.
Here, the tramp and clink of maille rings,
Echoes 'cross the open meadow;
The clash and bite of iron sword,
And the spears are all a-splintering.
Here, the cloven helm, the whistling arrow,
Proud banners catch the breeze;
The baying horns still fill the dales
From a thousand years ago.
The gold-red drake of Wessex
Burns swathes of blood and fire,
His fiery tongue lays waste the ships
of the northern king, Hardrada.
The dark cold waters of Umber
Are blackened with smoldering reek
Stamford Bridge, soaks her feet in the scarlet
Of forsworn blood-brother's bones.
The battle won, the Norsemen defeated,
The Wessex dragon flies south on thund'ring wings.
As the proud crests of Normandy
Break upon its shores.
The stormy winds of autumn's breath
Abate before the towering spray
Slicing through the murm'ring Channel
Bow before the fleet invader's prows.
The whirlwind son of Go
Hey Roxas Chpt 1Hey RoxasHey Roxas Chpt 18 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
(A.N. Before you read the story, please be sure to read the description first. To avoid unpleasant surprises. Thank you.^^)
In a kingdom far, far away, called Twilight Kingdom, lived a small boy named Roxas. He lived with his mother and father, their lives peaceful. That is until the mother fell ill and died when Roxas was only 3 years old. The father still grieving, raised his boy to the age of five when he married again. His new wife, Larxene looked beautiful and caring enough. She even had two other boys Roxas's age, Tidus and Hayner. On the boy's 5th birthday, his father became ill and he too passed away. Then, the stepmother began showing her true colors, as well as her sons. Bitterly jealous of Roxas's angelic beauty, she forced him to do the chores around the house. His step brothers ordered him to do their own chores and soon he was the family's maid. He did everything from scrubbing the floors, waxing the stairs, beating the rugs, doing the mopping, the
Six WordsWe can fly, but we'll fall.Six Words7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Delusions -LevixReader- Chapter 1The first thing you noticed was a dull ache in your head, followed by the speckles of sunlight streaming through the blanket of leaves above as you opened your (e/c) eyes. Then came the feeling of something lightly tickling your sides, and you quickly realized you were sprawled out upon the cool, grassy ground.Delusions -LevixReader- Chapter 111 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Cool, grassy ground of what?
You moved your arms to push yourself into a sitting position, but instantly relented at the sharp pain abruptly shooting through your joints. Your limbs prickled almost painfully so, and you groaned in irritation as you forced your sleeping arms to lift yourself upwards.
Ah. Cool, grassy ground of a forest, you thought, as your eyes scanned your surroundings.
You took note of the long tree branches seemingly overlapping each other and the thick underbrush. You had never seen a forest this dense before, and you frowned at the thought of trying to navigate through the trees and bushes.
Slowly rising to a standing position, you bent and wi
It Has Come To My AttentionIt has come to my attentionIt Has Come To My Attention3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that people like me
are generally not welcome in fairy tales.
It's the talking birds that do it.
The minute a sparrow shows up to pipe a direful warning
it's all over
down at the first hurdle
The body in the fifty-fathom well
will have to wait
the old woman turned into a hare
the murdered mother in the juniper tree
as I whip out my Sibley guide and look for the entry
with the fieldmark labeled capable of human speech.
For this crime
I have been accused of a failure of wonder
of having chained up my inner child and sent her
to work in the salt mines.
But the truth
(if you really want to know)
is that I have read too many fairy tales
and lived a bit too long
to be surprised by anything that happens in
the cottages of lonely woodcutters.
I can even venture a guess
to why the bear speaks with the voice of a maiden
(my heart goes out to her)
and why, when the animal has saved your life,
you will be required to make a harp out of its bones.
These are o
IcarusWho are you, and what am I?Icarus8 years ago in Spoken Word More Like This
Remember me? I touched the sky
I flew too hard and burned too fast
Dreams like mine, they just don't last
I touched the sun on feathered limbs
I satisfied my wildest whims
But I burnt out, and I fell down
My body wasn't ever found
But don't remember me for how I failed
I embody all the dreams that've sailed
So who are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I wasn't afraid to fly.
StairwayStairway4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The sign said, "Stairway
to Nowhere" but I still went
up, for nowhere's new
Saints of San AxolotlEcho birds are as common as muck, and about the same color. Theyre found only in San Axolotl, where they scurry along the paving stones and under the tables of the street cafes, through trash-clogged back alleys and down the walks of rooftop gardens, looking for scraps and seeds. Once you leave the city, though, the echo bird population tapers off within five miles, and the only specimens anywhere else in the world have glass eyes and are wired to their perches.Saints of San Axolotl5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Echo birds are not mimics. There are all kinds of mimics in the bird kingdom, from the pygmy mynah to the rare and savage Cassowary Macaw, whose repertoire generally consists of the screams and curses of its last unfortunate victim. Mimicry is no longer a particularly impressive trick. Any old parrot, with time and patience, can learn to whistle the national anthem and make obscene comments, or both at the same time.
The echo bird, however, does something quite beyond mimicry. If you encounter an echo bird, all you will s
Writing 302: Action in PanelsYou may think this is solely up to the illustrator of the book but in fact it's actually a shared responsibility between writers and pencillers.Writing 302: Action in Panels4 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Camera Angles and Storytelling through Panels
As a writer it's your job to define the pacing and flow of the page and how your story will reach the readers. The artist's job is to take those directions, execute them as best as he can and apply his vision on top of the writer's. It is a collaborative effort and that's why writers and artists have to keep a constant communication.
Drawing a pin-up is one thing, telling a story through pictures is something else entirely. All your choices have weight and they should mean something, you should be very conscious of every single decision you take as an artist/writer when working on a comic book.
A close up has a very different desired effect than a wide shot for instance, and they each communicate something specific to your readers. So always keep in mind, "What do I want to communicate wi