39. Out of TimeI'm... suffering...39. Out of Time1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
P-Please, oh god.... C-Can't breathe....
...Kill me. Kill me now...
The loathsome mask slid away.
I was alive.
That first breath. Dear god, that first breath. It was so wonderful and horrible and simple at the same time. I hacked, I choked, I felt so very unlucky.
I wanted to die. Do not give me precious life!
I heard Master calling my name. It felt distant and unreachable, as if the sound was coming from the depths of a deep, dark hole. I felt so detached from this entire affair. This was frightening, this was wrong. He'd always been this way. He never listened to me... Was I so wrong that he had to tune me out? Why did he always have to play god!
I tried out my new eyes. The lids felt heavy and deprived of rest.
Alas, they... still could not see. I did not care... I did not want to live, no matter what grand plans Master had in store for me.
"No I'm not..." I whispered. My voice sounded so inhuman. We
92. InnocenceI crouch on the floor,92. Innocence1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
As if angered by my weakness.
My mind runs in circles.
So very impractical
But so very grown-up
A disheveled vampire's white
That fades to a permanent blush.
I get up, continuing my little walk of the day
That seems to become a journey
Then a quest
Then a forced march
Until I enter the cool solitude of my home.
I shut the door
Sitting down carefully,
Bruised in the soul.
And I look down at my hands
And the anger flares up
All over again, my brain set in overdrive.
My tattered flag.
The flag named innocence.
It is little more
Than a scrap of what could never be.
acridi.acrid2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a dead bird rots,
stomach heat-split and picked on,
feathers stuck to the concrete
when he peels it up.
he pours kerosene,
holding one shaking match litó
fat melts, entrails crisp,
marrow dries and bones crack,
ashes rise against the wind,
falling on gray buildings.
in his midmorning dream,
the phoenix soars.
Coffee.there are sepia filmsCoffee.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of soldiers, married
and women in
I am the woman
(I should be hung)
She isShe isShe is1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the idea of smoking,
hot tea in the afternoon,
a pool in the shade,
the person in personality,
chalk on a sidewalk,
blue skies and a rainbow,
shorn hair and an answered prayer;
music in the mountains.
Bipolar DisorderI am a victim of a shadow named fourteenBipolar Disorder2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And a little girl, my old best friend who turned into a demon.
Fourteen human figures without a face… they attack my soul
And everybody’s staring at me without an honest reason.
I am a victim of the people of the world
Who only want to hurt me, and my innocent family
Terrified of the ones around me, even those I love
When a nightmare becomes my reality.
I can’t take a shower without peeking outside the curtain
And I can’t close my eyes when I wash my hair
Because I’m horrified, afraid that when I open them
I’ll see somebody with a bloody face angrily standing there.
Sometimes I unlock the doors and then lock them again
And to be honest, I’m not completely sure why
And I can’t go upstairs at night, because what if there’s a fire?
I won’t be able to make it out in time.
I am a victim of a shadow named fourteen
And a little girl, my old best friend who turned into a demon.
And somehow, ou
BIRDIf I regret anything, it is the reticence of birds--BIRD4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my reticence, the uncertainty of the word "today,"
which rusts like the flute before Judith one.
If there is a time to undress, it is now,
but my thoughts close in on me, like a tunnel,
and I lose sight of everything except the wind.
Beneath it all, my hollow bones
are icy blue, each joy expunged--
I feel it keenly, here, and there.
for Charles Bukowskifor Charles Bukowskifor Charles Bukowski3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the nighttime, the tigers wait around my bed
i'll keep the radio turned on, so each hour
someone will still tell me what happened
voor Charles Bukowski
's nachts wachten de tijgers naast mijn bed
ik laat de radio aan, zodat elk uur
iemand me nog vertelt wat er gisteren
[Luna provided the Spanish translation of the poem:]
a Charles Bukowski
a la noche, los tigres esperan rodeando la cama
dejaré la radio encendida, así a cada hora
seguiré escuchando eso que pasó
artificialsweet french vanilla.artificial2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
white tea. pills in my bedroom.
take them all. i'm free
Southern Hospitality"No mom, I'm fine, really." I insisted, balancing the phone between my cheek and my shoulder as I lifted another cardboard box.Southern Hospitality3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Nicole, I'm feeling very uneasy about this. I mean, a young girl, alone in a big house out in the country. Why couldn't Dexter be there tonight?"
I sighed, setting the box on the floor by my feet. "He's got one more meeting tomorrow morning, and then he's on the first flight to Georgia. I'm okay for one night, I promise. All I have to do is get my last two boxes in from the car, and I'm in for the night. Okay?"
"Well, okay. But just promise me to lock all the doors, and all the windows. It's a big house. I'd feel better if I knew you were completely safe."
I nodded, immediately feeling stupid when I realized she couldn't see me.
It was a pretty big house.
Dexter had insisted that when we were finally married, we would live in a big house in the country. This was all fine and dandy, minus the fact he was gone four out of seven days on
It Isn't Wrong...I used your words to form an apologyIt Isn't Wrong...1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because I didn’t know another way
To make you acknowledge me
But I’m still here, you know
As much as I was a year ago
I’m going in blind and taking shots in the dark
But I’m pulling every word from the bottom of my heart
I’ve had a lot of time to see things straight
You’re someone that I love, that I could never hate
That’s why every time I tried forgetting about you
I couldn’t force myself to do what I had to do
Now I can see your pain, I’m sorry I put you through it
If there was one thing I could change
You know that I would undo it
I don’t want to live, I don’t want to breathe
The reason we’re like this is all because of me
I don’t want you to be yet another closing door
You think I could care less, darling, I couldn’t care more
Take away from this all the evidence you need
I miss you just as much as you say you miss me
I want this forced silence to come to
Mildew.i.Mildew.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
thought I'd ask your brother,
why you don't want to see me,
"it's just that my pockets
are warmer than your hands"
and I cannot keep myself
I do not have my own
feelings, they belong to
told you, I wouldn't tell
about the other night
in the car;
too late, the highway
saw us, as
silhouettes of sex
will I ever
to read you?
Lust for Life"French is so prettyLust for Life4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Everyone should speak it,"
You tell me to call you Joie d'Vivre,
But the only problem is,
There's always a problem.
The only problem is,
Some things don't translate.
"Joy of life"
Joy is surprise party
An extra candle on the cake
(to grow on)
A big, all-American, God-loving grin
Joy is not how I feel about life at all
I think it works better in Dutch
And in the language of syphilis
And paint poisoning
I think it works better as,
"Lust for life"
I look at life with backscatter eyes
I want to seize the day by the hipbone handlebars
And pull it two steps backwards against my joy
Every day, I do what I can
To make my presence known to life
To make her feel me inside her
And to engage in all sorts of creative processes
Joie d'Vivre is writing in blood and
Trying to find time to read
In between the lines
Joie d'Vivre is the birds and the bees
Who have the exhibitionist courage to fuck outside
Joie d'Vivre is lust for life
Art made with a knife
What dreams smell like - for IloWhat dreams smell likeWhat dreams smell like - for Ilo2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We can talk about what lovers do,
what they don't, about the sea, about flying
A shore is never a metaphor
One day I'll play your phalanges
as if they were a xylophone
A finger on your lip means: be quiet
Waar dromen naar ruiken
We kunnen praten over wat geliefden doen,
wat ze laten, over de zee, over vliegen
Een kust is nooit een metafoor
Op een dag zal ik je vingerkootjes
als een xylofoon gebruiken, wacht maar
Een vinger op je lip betekent: stil
The Lion's DenThe walls trembled as shadows spiraled out of control. Daniel froze, tightly gripping his leatherback journal. The darkness was closing in. From above, he could hear the stone slabs of the estate crumbling. Soon, the Auttenberg House would fall apart, trapping Daniel beneath it. He exhaled heavily, sprinting up the next stairwell he could find, in hopes that this would be the last on his excursion.The Lion's Den4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Rebecca!" His voice had grown hoarse from calling her name. Shoving the doorway at the top of the stairs open, Daniel peered through the empty darkness. "Rebecca?"
His gritted his teeth together and trembled. This couldn't be. Surely he had checked every room in the estate; yet, Rebecca was nowhere to be found. Daniel cursed aloud, kicking the door.
He rested against the wall before covering his face. His journal fell beside him, opening to a few written pages in the middle. Daniel cringed at the sight of the words and violently nudged the journal away.
This is all your faul
i often dream about havingi often dream about havingi often dream about having2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a lover, literally
i'm lying like a shiny mongrel
on her floor. kisses goodnight
back and forth, in turn, until
someone is wise enough
to swap cheek and mouth
in one move. unexpecting
ik droom vaak over het hebben
van een geliefde, letterlijk
ik lig als een glanzend mormel
bij haar op de vloer. nachtkusjes
over en weer, om de beurt, tot
er iemand zo verstandig is
om in één beweging wang en mond
te verwisselen. onverwachtend
On My Mind - Shintaro MidorimaOn My Mind - Shintaro Midorima2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was known that Midorima could shoot the ball and never miss from any point in the court, no matter how far. His shots never missed, as expected from someone in the Generation of Miracles. He always lived up to people's expectations of him, he never disappointed. His team relied on him, though he didn't need them as much as they needed him.
Right now, it was one of those moments. It was hot, the arena crowded, as people cheered and made noise amongst themselves. The Shuutoku team was in their formation against the other team. There was only a few seconds left on the clock, and Shintaro was currently in possession of the ball.
Standing on the opposite side of the court, Shintaro concentrated as hard as he could on getting the ball in. He knew it would go in regardless, so there shouldn't be any problem.
As he positioned himself to shoot, his mind began to wander slightly, a bead of
swallowed air and the vacuum that formswe were bornswallowed air and the vacuum that forms1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in a hedonist's village and died
with empty stomachs
Fear Is The Heart of Love"You should skip this mission," Dean said as he stepped through the beads leading into Cas's room. He was surprised he didn't walk into the middle of an orgy, but that's not to say he wasn't relieved he didn't.Fear Is The Heart of Love3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Cas looked up at him from his bed with his little half smile, but Dean could see he wasn't stoned, for once. His blue eyes were more clear than he'd seen them since this whole damn apocalypse had started.
"We both know I'm going to go with you, Dean," Cas said with the all-too familiar tilt of the head.
"Goddamit Cas!" Dean said, turning and slamming his fist into the thin wall in a rare exhibit of anger. "Just fucking stay here!"
Cas blinked owlishly at him, unaffected by Dean after seeing every possible emotion on the hunter's face. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you were the other Dean," he remarked dryly.
Dean scowled at him. "I couldn't be him, I'm not that weak."
"You are. You just hide it behin
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,No wander about it, just lust.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the embodiment of poetry.
& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.
wishes are for the weak-
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.
I think I found God then,
i cannot take pain.i cannot take pain.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but then i'm torn.
and hide behind a smile.
and i stay silent.
but i can feel it coming.
i walk home early.
and i hope for a car.
to come around the corner.
but dying isn't an option.
so i hope for a bike.
and i get home.
and i smile at my family.
and they smile back.
but i go to a room.
and sit there.
and i feel it coming .
and it comes.
and i'm crying.
and i'm shivering.
and i feel sadness,anger,all negative emotions.
but it hurts me phisically.
so this is what pain is to me.
and i wait for the agony to stop.
the pain in my stomach, chest, hands,head.
but it will not stop.
so i listen to my heart beat.
and i hear my self say.
but it doesnt lisnten.
my beat starts to fade.
and the pain starts to go.
and i'm drifting.
but death isnt an option.
and i was happy dreaming of death.
where the pain ends.
but i hear a flick.
and my heart my heart again.
and my mother tells me .
i was sleeping for hours.
and it's now night.
i cannot tell anyon
SilenceThe phone went through to voicemail every time. Cally wished caller ID had never been invented, because maybe then she'd have had a chance to talk to Li Wei.Silence2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She settled for composing voicemail after voicemail in her head, discarding each because it was too needy or too aloof or too pathetic. And all the while, a voice in her head counted off what she had done wrong.
I met Cally when I was seven. She was barefoot in a white dress, walking through the sprinklers in the park with her head tilted back and her pale hair falling down her shoulders.
I never answer anyone who asks me "So when did you know you were a lesbian?" But I think of that moment.
Cally knew something strange was going on because the restaurant wasn't open. The Kuo Buffet had been a fixture of her life since she made friends with Li Wei, almost fourteen years ago. It had been closed twice: once the day after 9/11, because Li Wei's cousin had died, and once when Kuo Fai, Li Wei's great-gra