Pygmalion In some distant land there lived a king and his mind. In a time of steam and balloons and the defiance of Gods and Nature alike by Man, his people thrived in unbroken peace, and the king and his mind lived alone in his hall. No sentries guarded its doors, for the king felt safe in his home; no queen sat by him as he ate. Instead, the emptiness was filled with the treasures of the modern day: precious metals and glass moulded into technical tools and toys for his pleasure, and forces driven by sheer physics for that of his mind; a mechanical menagerie of metal lapdogs that barked when called, frogs that croaked squeakily as they hopped meaninglessly about, cats that purred when their well-greased ears were stroked.Pygmalion4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Yet neither the king nor his mind were satisfied: the mind grew bored with the knowledge it found in weights and steam, and the man himself, the fallible king of a refined land, grew fonder of the obje
baby drilledif the sun stillbaby drilled4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
shines then the
we've been repeating
what the rain said
spray the earth's
into the bay
let them make
in the riverbed
with one hand
what the other
the night in
skin.skin taught hipbone to hipbone like the skin of a drum as my fingers play the keyboard of my ribs,skin.2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
digging deep to pluck them like boomerangs from the corset of my chest. stomach like a cave whispering lies that echo in my bones.
there's a vortex in my middle
that i refuse to feed,
a blackhole that only grows.
(but it doesn't seem to know that i've forgotten how to be hungry).
the empty echos the ice in my heart and the empty in my head.
the countdown has begun.
(caged rabbit heart is dying slowly).
and i know you'll come again soon. you always do.
there is a dead songbird in my chest,
and its wings are clipped and laid to rest.
i know my place.
i know the way my body fits next to his like a corrupted equation. 2+2=8. but you and me will never equal a whole number.
this selfhate was hardwired into me at the age of 11 along with the memories of your searching hands presspresspressing into me like a prayer.
but there is nothing holy about your hands,
nothing sacred about my
the little things.The night caves in.the little things.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
there are no more pretty words on my lips.
the stars fall like planes in a tailspin.
and there is no more beauty in my pen,
only the self-loathing that shadows my mind and the blade on my skin.
and he's seafoam in the drain,
as out of place here as the seashells inhabiting the dresser in my room.
its not poetry anymore,
and the pain in my chest is so real i can taste it like cold steel.
his toes at the edge of the precipice as he burns the night down. your lungs are filled with flour and your eyes with ashes.
its the little things that break you.
so i'll swallow the emptiness inside like a bitter medicine. bite my cheeks until they bleed out my insecurities. i'm rotting from the inside out, but i can't let them know it.
too afraid if i set the rot free it will destroy me completely.
but maybe its already destroyed me.
the acid in my veins has laid me bare and defenseless. the bile and unborn words in my che
Hidden Behind A Mask - Part 7Hidden Behind A Mask - Part 711 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Ethan awoke with a jolt, and opened his eyes quickly. The first thing he seemed to see from the forest floor was a dark figure looming over him.
He gasped and blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, and then looked back up. The dark figure was gone. Ethan stared at where it had been, wondering if it had really been there.
Sighing, he decided that it didn’t really matter if it had been there, it was gone now. Ethan looked upwards at the sky. It was dark, but it was gradually getting lighter. He must have slept throughout the night.
Ethan pushed himself up from the ground, and managed to sit up. A flash of pain from his leg reminded him of the events from earlier, and he slowly looked down at his foot. He grimaced at what he saw.
All of his toes on his right foot had been dismembered from his leg, leaving only a bloody stump. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but his foot was coated in dry blood. Ethan rea
I play with Words like you play with Hearts .you are a brittle little thing butI play with Words like you play with Hearts .2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your bite makes me restl-ess--
ays could be written about your
eyes, shimmering in the star-light--
headed is what you make me--
ddling into my heartst[r]ings until I am
in need of med-icine--
ss melting away at your heated t-ouch!
and yes, I want you inside me
and all around me
and never leaving my si[ght]de--
votion and affection surging th--
rough our beings playing, moving as
you're a slippery ro-ad--
diction hard to sha--
ke-en-edged and dange-rous--
ing my heart to bea-ting--
ling in my skin--
ned knees when f
Wild Things and Make Beliefs.Pucker your lips andWild Things and Make Beliefs.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my teeth will fill your mouth with
the metallic taste of
your own blood.
Take hold of my hand and
I'll point out all the perfect ways
don't fit together.
Plant kisses down my neck and
I'll tell you it feels just like
Keep me in your chest box
and I'll claw my way out
from between your fractured ribs.
Because to call you darling, I'd have to linger
but wild things are meant to run free.
Black-Hand SpadeOld green sedanBlack-Hand Spade1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Rusting away in the tall grass.
Far from prying eyes she was
Took a lifetime to find her.
Saddle-tramp leather chaps
Hang from a rawboned frame.
Comfortable with smiling
Peers out beneath the sun.
Skeletons are friends we never found
Dreaming of lush riverbanks
So far from home.
Dust on the horizon
Blacksmith's heart slicing the hardpan.
A tremble, a tremble
Gallops that engine
(She looked at me across the veranda
Sitting there at Scarsdale Plantation
While the ladies played croquet on the south lawn
And she smiled...)
So long ago.
Collins and I
We ride out under that western sky
Rolling 'tween the purple sage and tumbleweeds
No one to ask us why
You purr for me.
Hula girl dancing on the dash
Beckons sweetly...promising everything.
Sundown in the distance falling
Radio is singing lullabies
Of lost hearts and moonlit gardens...
And Collins just smiles that reaper's grin
Men call him Black-Hand Spade.
This is not about you .These words are not about you.This is not about you .2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
The curves of these letters are here to imitate the shape of your spine when I have you pressed against the wall. They mock the shape of my breasts against your burning palms, the sharp prickle of your jaw resting at the base of my neck as you moan the name you could have sworn you've forgotten but it always just wiggles its way free from between your teeth.
Don't misunderstand, these words are not about you.
This is purely and solely about me and my battle between giving up and giving in. Either way, the winner turns out to be you.
I was counting crooked stars and telling you that snow feels hot to my touch when I'm high on apathy, when you caught me off-guard and set fire to my fingertips. I trusted you when you promised to leave me completely undesirous, and accidentally misheard that you can only promise to break every promise leaving your lips. For one second I believed that I have learned to keep my heart in a pocket, and then suddenly you stripped
Geiger's CourierAs I walked, the blue of the desert sky began to fade. I pulled my hood over my head, even though my machine body needed neither protection from the sun nor shelter from the wind. Simply put, I didn't like the feeling of the unending void above me, looming, watching, infinite. I knew I shouldn't have such feelings, so I ignored the rationale and allowed my hands to move as they pleased.Geiger's Courier1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I adjusted the leather strap. The sky was pale. Gray. Stars blinking into view, I refused to meet their eternal gaze. As I walked I was dying. As I walked, I was not yet born.
But as I laid my feet in a careful pattern, one in front of the other, I didn't notice. Day, night, it didn't matter, for I'd been given the unenviable position in life of a courier, and I neither knew nor cared for anything else.
Not yet, at any rate.
My body was a vessel for my vague sense of self, for I was water gathered between shaking palms, a cup half-filled, a fleet lif
Blinded SoldierToday, your eyes are dark as night itself.Blinded Soldier3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
With elegance, I want your figure so.
And even though your love's for someone else,
my heart still burns ablaze, with thirst and growth.
I watch; I hear my soundless screams, and cry.
That such a beauty falls into wrong hands.
But knowing that a beaut's before my eyes,
I push my urge down to my throat, now banned.
Naïve, my sense of right and wrong and sin.
A conflict, battled strong and for release.
My wit and power brings no easy win,
and so, I feel that such a love must cease.
Like all good things, my love is near its end,
but I've fought hard, and 'tis what I defend.
you won't find her in photographs.you won't find her in photographs packed in dusty tattered boxes.you won't find her in photographs.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
don't look for her in the black and white negatives you hold to the light.
she was the finger on the trigger, the eye behind the camera.
she was sand in my fingers, always passing through.
she was a dust moat, only seen through the looking glass of light falling in patterned beams.
she was a cloud,
and photographs could never pin her down.
if you see her,
it won't be in an album.
no, you will find her weaving daisy chains in downtown traffic. you will find her dropping pennies like bread crumbs so she will always find her way back,
and wishing on the moon when you can't see the stars. or holding shards of blue glass to the sky when the clouds don't break. you will find her wandering the forest barefoot, trees tugging at her hair or writing poetry in brail and in sharpie in neglected crannies on the subway,
because she always said art is for everyone, right?
she was an ocean,
don't try to hold her in a mason jar.
wasting time.already,wasting time.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have spent too many nights with metal kissing flesh,
too many nights just one step above empty air.
there are too many unwritten suicide notes in my head,
too many hours spent praying to a toilet that will never answer back 'thin enough'.
i have wasted my 18th year curled around too much sadness,
spending it in texts sent like stones i never should have thrown.
words i never should have let fall out of the unhinged socket of my mouth.
i am all helium and no balloon.
i have spent my problems lavishly,
i was a whore with my secrets.
i forgot how to fall apart quietly.
i fell asleep in depression loud as the thoughts in your head.
i let it settle in my bones but tried to dig it out by cutting deeper.
i learned healing is a meal i haven't learned to swallow yet,
and i am grieving something i haven't found.
my innocence is a book i never got to read,
a book he burned before i was old enough to say no.
i can feel my scars raised like white flags,
each valley a war won.
Naruto: Season of FallSasuke was not particularly fond of Fall.Naruto: Season of Fall9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was between Summer and Winter, the leaves changed color, and it was crisp outside. That summed up his opinion of the time of year, truthfully. But other than that, he seriously couldn't have cared less. It wasn't really that he didn't like it, but he didn't love it either. It was just there, and it passed by like all the other seasons. In short, Fall was just one of Sasuke's many objects of indifference.
He didn't know what the big deal was about it, either. Poets ranting and raving about the beauty and the elegance of the falling leaves, of the symbolism of the trees becoming bare with each passing October. It just didn't appeal to him. So the leaves turned red. Big deal. It's not like it really mattered. It was all just part of a cycle, and somehow, the boy could not find the beauty in it.
That afternoon, he decided to take one of his walks in a park nearby. He did that quite often, actually. It wasn't so much as he wanted to, say, take in
volcanoes in your voicebox.the chairs whisper a collective amen as we stand.volcanoes in your voicebox.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the setting sun winks at us through half drawn curtains
as we shake off the lethargy in sitting in our bones.
your silence stretches, snaps, and breaks another bone. your eyes are erupting like mt. saint helen, but the ash is coming from your mouth.
i can smell my skin burning.
the words stack like tetris, burying forests and houses under layers of scorn. i pull words from the ocean caged in my chest with a fishing hook drawn up my throat. the sandpaper sentences have shredded my voicebox raw, but you can't hear me through your anger.
the list of things we are going to do to fix me stretches deeper than the obsidian sea.
but maybe i don't want to tape me back together, to push me back into a skin i shed like the plastic wrap of a gift.
maybe i want to gather the shards of my brokenness like flowers in my arms and learn to make something beautiful of them.
learn to say this is me.
i can be something more than you've made me.
i know you h
La ultima blagaThéorie de la galéjade suprême par le professeur ZekovskiLa ultima blaga3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
(ou de la blague ultime, mais ça claque moins)
Récemment plongé dans de maintes réflexions et études sociologiques (oui, ce sont des sciences. Non pas parce qu'on les pratique avec une démarche objéctive et attentive mais parce que les cobayes disponibles sont pléthore.), je me suis penché sur le cas des blagues. Je parle ici des blagues de parole, qui à une lettre et un accent près donne "padrôle". Ce qui était justement le cas de celle-ci, mais au moins vous avez compris l'idée.
Dans mes maintes recherches, disais-je donc, je me suis très vite rendu compte évidemment que l'amplitude d'une blague (qu'on mesure sur l'échelle du fou qui repeint son plafond si vous n'avez pas lu le Chat de Gelluck) dépend fortement du contexte.
« La différence entre 30 et 27, c'est qu'il y en a un
kill two promises with one lieit was the day i sworekill two promises with one lie4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to never love anyone;
i heard doves chirping
to some deaf pigeon.
i opened my window,
and shot them twice.
because they are wasting their time
and mine. so why not put them out
of their misery?
then once again,
because at six am,
i do not want any fucking birds
making noise or making love or
making a mess of my mind as i
try to sleep another dreamless
night. one for every damn bird
in this cyan-scribbled sky. two
for every earaching coo. three
for every winged beast singing
elegies that remind me of gods
that remind me of holidays that
remind me of the times you lied
and said you loved me.
which reminds me of
that day i promised
to never love anyone
Pt. 1 :The Doctor, Rose, and Sherlock Holmes OI LISTEN! I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU READ THE DESCRIPTION BEFORE YOU READ THIS FOR THE BEST EFFECT. PLEASE THIS WILL MEAN THE WORLD TO ME. IT WILL ONLY TAKE A MINUTE.Pt. 1 :The Doctor, Rose, and Sherlock Holmes2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
* * * * * *
Traveling with the Doctor you some times forget the meaning of 'impossible', or 'predictable'. Things that have been deemed non-existent appear before your very eyes. In that Tardis is like a second home, you never want to leave, why would you anyway? You can see all of time and space with just one step out of those doors. You can see how kind the Doctor is as he saves people's lives and gives the vile ones a chance at living if they heed to his conditions of course. But however nice the Doctor may seem, no matter how sweet, or caring, there is a side to him that rarely anyone sees. We all have it in us, the hatred, the anger built up over 900. What he's seen, what he's done is incomprehensible. If us normal humans had done this we'd have died of insanity, but the Doctor goes through this every day. Part o
Loving blindly .Darling, there was always a difference betweenLoving blindly .3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who you are and how you made me feel;
Instant competition, perfect opposition,
I just chose to turn my compass backwards.
I cared too much about how the poison tasted
to notice I was drinking it while
forcing it down your throat.
I was too blind in bliss to see that
when we kissed, you spit it all in my mouth.
And when you gave me a mocking grin
while watching my body decay at your feet,
I wonder why did I always see
a loving smile?
I guess that's why our hearts are not eyes
and they beat on the left -
there's nothing right about loving blindly.
ReverieI dance in the sea of starsReverie3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My feet keep time to the pulse
Of my blood pouring down
The delicate skin of my neck
Flames lash out, burning my eyes
I am blinded
But continue to dance
Covered in blood from my neck,
To my toes
The weeping trees wrap their branches
About my ankles
Pulling my feet out from under me
I begin to plummet
Falling faster, and faster away from the stars
And with a smack I land
In a cruel, arid, desert of reality.
After Twilight Princess -8After Twilight PrincessAfter Twilight Princess -82 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Okay kids," Zelda called to the Ordon kids who were splashing each other in the water. "It's time to get out and dry off. You don't want to be soaking wet when you see your parents again, do you?"
"Heck yeah! This is fun."
"I don't really care ."
Ilia laughed and dragged Malo and Talo out. "Whatever you say Princess."
Zelda was just about to correct her when she saw Link turn into the Spring out of the corner of her eye.
"What are you doing?" He asked, a laugh making its way through.
"We smelled nasty so Miss Princess let us wash up." Colin explained, running up to Link after her put his shirt back on.
Link laughed again and smiled at Zelda.
Zelda blushed just a bit and got up and wiped the dirt off of her dress.
"Aww! Don't want to go!" Talo shouted. "I liked it better in Kakariko, 'cause Mr. Renado let me be the lookout guy."
"Well " Ilia smiled, walking over to him and grabbing his ear
band-aids and closed doors.the tv flickers under closed doorsband-aids and closed doors.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
and your skeletons are hidden in my closet.
your fears are leaking from the ceilings
and from beneath the afghan on your twin-sized bed.
you've been feeling 2 feet tall for weeks
but the bear on your chest won't get up.
the blinds that keep out the night
send paths of light and dark across your skin as
late night drinkers send their autos careening.
your band-aid knees are drawn to your chest
and i can hear the oceans in your eyes.
but you've roped them down with rusted bands and frayed rope,
too afraid to let it go.
the night loosens your lips
and your soft bedroom eyes have lost all their life.
you used to believe in living,
but now you're barely breathing.
and your mind is still buzzing from the last thing you smoked
and your lips are still moving from the last nonsense you spoke
and you haven't eaten in three days.
the rings locked around your eyes is the chains keeping the beast from tearing apart whats left of you.
Confessions of a KingConfessions of a King11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Confessions of a King
I have a small confession,
One I would like to make,
If I don't make it here and now,
I'm afraid my heart will break.
So come! Sit here, just listen,
Because, see here is the thing,
What I'm about to tell you...
Are the confessions of a king.
You what? You don't believe me?
Well... I just don't know what to say,
No I will never kill you
That... was my Fathers way
I'm sure that you remember,
From when you were very young
The loyal freedom writers
Who one by one were hung,
What? No! How could you say that!
This was not at all my rule!
I wish I could have helped but,
I was a young and frightened fool
And now the heavy burden
of a crown rests on my head
I just hope I can do better
for this is where my dreams have lead
I know it may seem easy
But infact that's not the case
I swear I'll try my hardest
and do the best for human race
I have a small confession,
One I would like to make,
I'll tell yo