Don't fall in love with a poetDon’t fall in love with a poetDon't fall in love with a poet1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
because we can find beauty in anything
and we won’t let it go;
I fell in love with a boy because I thought the crooked
line of his mouth was a mirror image of mine,
fell in love with him because his nails were square like
headstones and I wanted to bury myself in him.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
because we notice the minutiae in every face
and we orbit like strung out satellites;
I fell in love with a girl because when she cried her skin
blossomed like an over-ripe peach, and I wondered
if I would swallow the stone by accident when I kissed her.
Don’t fall in love with a poet
because we can’t let go of the quirks we collect.
we exist like mirrors, without an object we are a blank slate
and the one thing we can’t stand are blank spaces,
that’s why we fill pages with ink to cover the silence of
-our parents’ marriage, dissolving like salt in water, but still leaving a bitter taste acrid in your mouth;
Greenwich Mean Time is a liarIn the mornings, while I yawn andGreenwich Mean Time is a liar1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
pour cereal singing into a bowl, you
yawn and turn in bed, the evening
settling like snowfall, thick and heavy
outside your window. Here the sun rises,
there it sets, we exist at opposite ends
of the days, sending our postcard promises
with the cycle of the moon. In the afternoons
I walk along the beach and the tides pool in
with your slumbering sighs, like the oceans
are your lungs, filling and deflating with a
white-wash rumble. The birds chorus the dawn
and the gulls hang suspended in a waning day
and I think of the clattering wind-chimes behind me
as your cereal hitting the bowl, the odd piece
scattered on the countertop, your bleary eyes
never noticing. In the evenings, I push the sun
down below the mountains, to sit high up in your
cerulean skies, you pack up the stars and mail them
to me, and they pinprick the dusk as if you threw them
up like confetti. You glance at the time zones on your
phone, and wish me goodnight as I wish you a good day
Happy Songs on the RadioI don't write about happy things.Happy Songs on the Radio2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't listen to songs about romance.
I can't feel what the artist is singing so passionately about.
The longing to know what it's like makes me want to scream and shout.
The way people write and lace words together,
About how happy and perfect they see the world.
Has always been a stranger to me.
I wish I could see,
The way you did.
I really do.
I wish I could feel the same way as you.
To be able to hear the lyrics,
'I love you'
And picture someone to match those three words.
I wish I could hear these songs,
About how everything is perfect.
Absolutely nothing is wrong.
But I can't.
I hear those songs and I feel empty.
Because I can't feel what they're saying.
And I keep listening,
But I am just wasting my time
Trying but failing to relate.
When I hear the songs on the radio.
They make me squirm in my seat.
I feel happy but sad.
Something so bitter sweet.
Because part of me feels so happy for the person.
Who sings so happily.
But another, darker half.
A crash-course on friendshipLet me give you a crash-course on friendship:A crash-course on friendship17 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i. Just because you wouldn’t doesn’t mean they won’t
ii. My mum used to tell me that the boundaries of what we found acceptable were like sports grounds. Some people play in stadiums, Olympic-sized swimming pools, anything goes. Other people play on a ping pong table, on the spot doing keep-me-ups. And just because something is a big deal to you, it might not be for them.
iii. You can’t make people be your friend. You can’t go up to the boy who always sits in the back row of class and say that you can see he has learned to listen, to absorb, and you can teach him how to expand, to express. But you can say hello.
iv. Promises of forever are futile, aren’t fair. You will grow and change course like a vine between two towering trunks. You will split and mend your seams in different orders like a river parted around a rock. You will not be the same as twenty-year-old you, thirty-year-old you, and neither will
We Tried.hideous peopleWe Tried.2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
to be something they are not
not to be something
Mona Lisa smilingLet’s talk about wanting to fall apart;Mona Lisa smiling1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let’s talk about over-riding the one instinct
we all have in common,
Let’s talk about not wanting to get out of bed
for a day,
Let’s talk about timing the whole day to have
the least amount of social contact.
Let’s talk about faking smiles more than not,
about inwardly grimacing every time someone asks
“you seem quiet today, what’s wrong?”
because how can you explain that for some reason
this whole spinning aimlessly around the sun thing has
gotten tedious and the only spinning you seem to
be doing is out of control.
(but there is a reason, one that stretches beyond
the oh-your-parents-divorced-what-a-shame and the
oh-your-dad-wasn’t-exactly-what-we-expected and the
because I can’t see an end to the worst things and my bad luck
is coming in ninety-nines.
Let’s talk abo
Duplicity lies in more than just lightHe thinks: I will keep you like a dirty secret under my tongue that no-one will know, but everyone can just about taste, can feel the answers and questions burn at the tip of their tongue but never be able to verbalise.Duplicity lies in more than just light3 weeks ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I will lock you into my marrow, let you fester in my bones and when I fall one day and break an ankle, I might just scream your name.
I will knead you into the dough of my skin, diluted and spread so thin that most people will look straight through you, and those that look too closely will not be able to quite discern the rope-veins criss-crossed across the back of your hand, the hard line of your eye-brows, the clock-hands turning in your palms telling you how much time you’re wasting with a stop-out like me. You will be the trophy I keep hidden at the back of the shelf, the notch at the top of my bedpost, my fondest memory. You will be the one that got away while I am the one that never should have been.
I will remember the sweet scent of victory every time your
words are always underdressedmy mother tells me i am too deep for myself.words are always underdressed3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
i sit with blankets wrapped around
my shoulders and i tell her
of how amazing it is to be able to speak -
how i can communicate endlessly
in a bottomless sort of forever.
she looks at me
and i can’t read it. i am told
that my soul has lived for centuries,
has seen ten thousand lives -
but it is encrypted within my ribs,
protected from my eyes.
and i can’t read it.
i tell my mother i get so very bored
and she says this is what life is. i quiet,
quietly, whisper to the window
that there must be something out there to take away
my mind from all of this mundane
my mother asks me how my night at work went.
i look to her and tell
of how it’s always the same.
we sit at the table and i question how we survive when all we earn is worth
she says, we must survive
and i ponder what existence
decided our fate would forever and a day
be amounted to nothing but ruins
i tell my mother of how
survival never really mean
frequencyradiofrequency2 weeks ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
UnknownIf there are no tears,Unknown2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
There is no pain.
If bullets pierce my mask,
There would only be a smile underneath.
Pain is unknown to me.
Emotions are fleeting,
Loved ones go by even quicker.
Pain is a word I'm not familiar with,
And one I'm not eager to meet.
i am nothing more than a tollgategoodbyes are difficult, it is thei am nothing more than a tollgate1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
full stop you long to turn into a
semi-colon, the finality you wish
was as frail as your wavering heart
beat. goodbyes are difficult, mailing
secret kisses to cheeks for the last time,
hoping that the warmth won’t fade, that it
will be the only souvenir you need to take home.
disentangling the knots of our existence
on a tokyo crossroads, eyes caught like
sky and sea, the city stirs and the cars circle
like vultures and i feel vulnerable without
you. i am vulnerable without you, in a metropolis
that will forget my face but darling i could never
forget yours. it will come to me, from the white foam
of sleepless nights, it will be drawn in the clouds
whispering past my aeroplane window, it will be etched
in the crease of my bed-sheets when i return home and
you will be a spectre haunting somewhere you've never been,
the momento i can't shake out of my sandals and around the globe
i will be the will o' whisp flickering behind your curtains,
I'm an asexual, deal with it.I'm asexual.I'm an asexual, deal with it.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yes, I'm a seventh grader.
No, that doesn't mean it's just a phase.
It doesn't mean I'll grow out of.
It doesn't mean I'm just being a stupid little kid.
Asexuality doesn't mean I reproduce with myself,
nor does it mean that I'm a hermaphrodite.
It doesn't mean that I'm homosexual,
It doesn't mean that I hate romance,
or that I like it.
It doesn't mean that I dislike sex,
or like it, for that matter.
What being asexual can mean,
is that I don't have the drive for sex,
or I don't have the drive for romance in general.
It can also mean that I do have somewhat of a drive for sex,
but not for a relationship.
Not everyone's the same.
Some may like platonic relationships,
some may not like relationships at all.
Some may dislike the thought of romance altogether.
But that doesn't mean they're any different from any other person on the planet.
They're the same as heterosexuals,
Ducks And DrakesYou took my heartDucks And Drakes11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and skimmed it
across the water.
When I asked why
love is just a game."
Running on SunlightYou're not supposed to butRunning on Sunlight3 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sometimes you like to wake up before 5 am
Watch the day break open like an egg
The Sun rising, radiant, from his bed
Artists squabbling about what colours to paint the sky
Zephyrs flitting around discussing routes they never follow
The Courts fighting over what season it's supposed to be
This year Winter seems particularly feisty
Won't succumb to Summer
So the spring is colder than is customary
Mainly, though you want a show
Mostly, it escapes you but sometimes
You get a good hold of the sunlight and
Ride it all the way to work
Knowing that the day
Is going to be brilliant
Flying a kite to our playlistBefore I met youFlying a kite to our playlist2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I fell out of love with music
It was all the same
My enjoyment in it's presence, elusive.
You shared your heart
Showed me a world of lyrics through your eyes
Set to base, guitars, piano and beats
my world was lifted up to the skies.
Life had a soundtrack once more
Powered by our declaration, friends forever whatever
We bestowed each other gifts of melody
Bringing smiles for any such weather.
Now all that is done
You decided to end our unity
With you, our ballads dead
I too, die inside truthfully.
Our songs have survived
They play morning, noon, and night
And I think of you
Hope, dream that one day
to our playlist
Sing-Song, Stumble SlurChasing fire works, fire flies,Sing-Song, Stumble Slur3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
these fucking lies through urban sprawl and graffiti scrawl,
fingers locked, heart thumping in my throat like the bile I can't choke down.
It tastes like Vaseline and ashes,
a mouthful of proof of my cystic demise.
The clumsy stumble roar,
beasts with cherry-flavored foam leaking through their teeth,
and how much more skin can be chewed from my neck?
Skyscraper mazes and the pain-and-memory hazes I live and breathe
like it'd literally kill me to let it go.
Let it go.
Time slips and slides,
ice and lies,
love-dipped fallacies that hide
chrome and Vodka-bottle teeth.
Survive for the fight,
for the knuckle scabs and the dirty rainbow bruises.
Merit badges stamped into my chest.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Blunt instrument know-it-all,
but you're dumb as a brick and I'm feeling sick,
stomach churn, eyes burn,
and the crepe paper, purple spider leg memories eat at me.
Oh, you dog.
A year worth of your life and I've learned the bliss
Injustice Guest Fighter: FulgoreName: FulgoreInjustice Guest Fighter: Fulgore2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Debut: Killer Instinct (1994)
Voice: Andrew Kishino
Before the rise of the Regime, there was a mysterious corporation called Ultratech, which was on the verge of taking over all of the world governments. They are also responsible for annual Killer Instinct tournaments. They manufacture robot units called Fulgore. The purpose behind the Fulgore units were to battle worthy opponent they encounter. Now, ever since the Regime destroyed any chances of Ultratech coming to rise, they built a special Fulgore unit and sent it out to kill Superman and his associates.
*Intro: Lightning strikes on Fulgore and he awakens. He then says, "I will bring you to your doom!"
*Outro: Fulgore impales his opponent on one of his energy claws. He lift up his claw with
That's So Gay"That's so gay,"That's So Gay1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is what you say,
You've pushed one
Of your friends away.
"Oh no, honey,
Boys don't play
With Barbie dolls."
By enforcing gender roles,
You are killing
And telling them
That you'll love them no matter what*
Don't push your loved ones
With things you do or say,
Because words hurt;
But they hurt most
From the mouths of
The people that told you,
They'd always love you.
Saying, "that's so gay",
Or making them behave
In a gendered way,
Is telling them
That it's not okay
To be something
They can't help.
(And even if they could,
And it will hurt them
And every time you're together,
They'll be wondering;
"Am I wrong?"
"Do I really belong?"
Every time you say something like,
"That's so gay",
You burn someone's trust away.
And you can't build anything back
Bisexual PrideBisexual Pride4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yes I am bi
No it does not matter
Every person is as good as the latter
I love differently
Yet I think the same
Many may say it but I am not insane
It's not a phase
or a lust for sex
It is me on the inside being myself
WheatleyXReader: Birthday PicnicI have a roommate, a very interesting one at that. His name is Wheatley, and I helped him a year ago on my birthday when he had no place to live. He’s a bit clumsy, and doesn’t really know a lot about how things work in this town, but I can’t help but find him adorable. Just a year ago today I found him in that wheat field, his eyes stood out, they always have. They’re strikingly blue, and I can get lost in them for hours. I have developed a little crush on him, although he’d never feel the same way about me. But that embarrassing secret aside, Wheatley said he had a surprise all figured out for my birthday. I woke up smelling smoke and rushed down to the kitchen, where I found my panicking roommate tending to a burning cake and a blaring fire alarm. I grabbed the fire extinguisher and pointed it at the oven, opening the windows, and walking back to Wheatley.WheatleyXReader: Birthday Picnic2 years ago in Romance More Like This
“Let me see your hands.” I demanded, and when he held up his hands I sighed. They were
Why Books SuckLet me write you a story of all you want to hear. Of intercourse and romance, drugs and beer.Why Books Suck2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of simple plots and story devices, where no thinking is required.
I'll even make it into a series, everything you've desired.
Pick it up in the middle, why not? It's all the same. So-and-so get together,
there's sex on every page. It's the best story in the world, and it only took me six days!
Don't worry about morals, there's none to be learned.
If you hate life-long lessons, then enjoy every word.
The characters are flat with the basic of descriptions, with no voice of their own.
If one dies, no tears will be shed, there's another just around the bend.
They have no flaws to their name, no special traits to distinguish them, they're all the same.
Don't worry about remembering them, this story is stress-free, here for your pleasure.
You'll hold it like a treasure, believe it's the best thing ever written.
Oh, and do not feel guilty, do not feel smitten.
Each line was without effort, it was wri
The Thing Needs a Name"CHELL!!!CHEEELLLL!!!" Wheatley screamed as he ran into the house.The Thing Needs a Name3 years ago in Settings More Like This
"What?!?" She yelled back. Wheatley was running faster then she had ever seen him run bfore. She supposed that something awful had happened.
"There's something eating my rump!"
Chell stopped. What?
She grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around. Sure enough there was a chihuahua sized tic-like thing biting him. It had a hard yellow shell and black spiny legs with a pair of fangs.
Chell grabbed it and ripped it off. As unusuall as it might have seemed, she knew what it was.
"Ow! Bloody hell, that HURT!" Wheatley turned around and stared at the thing, "Agh! That thing had a death grip on me, you saved my life, mate!"
Chell ignored him, "Where did you find this, Wheatley?"
Wheatley's blue eyes glowed in anticipation of telling a good story. He cleared his throat, "Ahe-hem, well I was outside, pulling yellow flowers for you and exploring..."
Chell glared, her poor daisies.
"...when I saw something under th