Lesbian CirclesWhat scares you?Lesbian Circles8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is it the monsters under your bed?
or the thunder shaking your house at night?
What makes the hair on the back of your neck rise?
Maybe its the child at the park that stares at you with her otherworldly eyes. The one with the stained dress and the ragged little bow in her hair.
Or is it something else.
Something more sinister.
The dryness in your mouth, like on a hot summers day, that happens almost instantly when you see
That longing that rises in your chest in a manner that suggests heartburn.
The lust that clenches in your stomach like the butterflies that appear just before you speak in front of hundreds of people.
But most of all.
The pulsating heat that creeps from between your legs down to you knees.
Its so wrong.
But it feels
There is a straight line we must follow.
like good little school girls.
I dont know about you.
CUTSCUTSCUTS9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They are only skin deep
They seem to make things better
They only hurt afterwards
They leave scars underneath the skin
They are a type of drug
They help me while hindering me
They are on my arm
They are on my soul
CutsI cut myself todayCuts12 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
To see if it would heal
To see if the blood was red
To see if I am real
Right there, on my wrist
Sure, they healed
The memorys just mist
This one is different
This is deeper
Right to the soul
Right to my fear
My old friend
This time, were here
even pas the end
Sunlit fieldsSunlit fieldsSunlit fields8 years ago in General More Like This
I remember your laugh most of all. I don't hear that laugh enough these days but the memory is always fresh within me. I remember that laugh because it was without cynical cleverness...it was pure. What caused you to laugh...that I don't remember. Was I being witty, or clever or simply pontificating in some self-righteous manner? I don't know nor do I well care because whatever it was it gave me the gold I wanted. The Spindle Top of human joy. The laugh pierced all the pain and anger you hid and allowed your immortal soul to peer out into the world, to breathe the air of freedom.
Legions of men will tell you of your beauty for you are beautiful. But have they spent the time to learn who you are? Have they learned your moods, how to read your thoughts in your choice of words, the subtle variations of your silence? Quiet strength.
Once the crest of the hill is reached, will the valley below be barren and ash ridden or will it be sunlit fields? Will the lark rise in the morn
Hase und Tiger GeschichteDie Geschichte vom kleinen Hasen und vom kleinen TigerHase und Tiger Geschichte5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Es war einmal ein Hase. Der ging eines Tages spazieren und verirrte sich dabei im Wald. Er war noch sehr jung und schwer krank. Er hatte sich von zuhaus fortgeschlichen und sah das erste Mal die große, weite Welt, auch wenn der Weg für ihn sehr beschwerlich war. Dennoch war er froh darüber, gegangen zu sein. Bisher hatte man ihn nie vor die Tür gehen lassen. So konnte er die frische Luft einatmen. Und die Erde unter seinen Pfoten spüren. Und die Geräusche des Waldes hören. Er war glücklich. Schließlich entschied er sich dazu, den Berg, auf dem der Wald lag, bis ganz nach oben zu klettern. Wenn er das schaffen würde, so dachte er bei sich, dann würde er alles schaffen können.
Auf dem Weg aber sprang plötzlich ein junger Tiger aus dem Gebüsch. Erschrocken blieb der Hase stehen. Der Tiger knurrte ihn an und fletschte die Zähne. Dennoch stutzte er, denn normaler
i trust you to know.if i could crack my ribs apart at the sternum, id let you dip your fingers beneath the bleached bones.i trust you to know.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
there isnt anyone else id trust enough to not be impatient. there isnt anyone else id trust to not simply cut through the brittle, snarled vines encasing my heart. but i trust you. i trust you to see that the vines need to be unwound layer by layer. i trust you to see that to cut to the quick would only bleed me out. i trust you to know that i cant bear to stain the carpet yet again.
i trust you to see that the thorns are embedded deep, the insecurities tangled with the nervous laughs, that im biting my lip to keep it from trembling, that my palms are bird wings fluttering around my throat to keep the oxygen flowing.
i trust you to see.
and if i balk, if i run terrified back into the thicket, i trust you to follow me quietly, not burying a bullet in my flank, but luring me out with open hands and gentle eyes.
oh, because cant you see? i&
Deaths Diary (Entry 12)Deaths Diary (Entry 12)3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
What is it that frightens you? After all this time, I hardly need to tell you that there is no need to be afraid of me. However, I would like to explore the concept of fear. The ideas and the effects it has, if you'll permit me. Don't misunderstand me, fear has its benefits and it can be necessary. A man without fear is a fool. But there are some things that you humans fear that you just don't need to, like me.
So why do you humans fear me? I think the correct way to answer that is to explain why children fear the dark, or certain humans are afraid of any form of god or deity. Some humans are afraid of the future why? Because the one thing humans fear most is that which they do not know or understand. You fear the dark because you don't know what lies within. You fear me because you do not know what fate awaits you after me. You fear the future because you do not know what will happen to you. You fear God because you do not know him and you cannot study him. It i
This Time We'll Get It RightHis fingers shake with Im nervous. But he won't tell you a thing about his feelings. She's running through the grass and lying all over him. She wants to kiss him, again. Again. His lips are comforting, lip balm pink and their hers. Before he knows it she's off, her ripped jeans scream 'what I wouldn't do for you; he doesn't know if he should smile.This Time We'll Get It Right7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She likes it best when he wraps his arms around her from behind, or the way he dances his fingers over her skin. Don't let go. She's challenging him, putting him into the light. Trust me. She thinks way too much, as he sprints past her hand in hand he knows this is what lifes meant to be like. She taught him that.
Responsibility. The cars passing see it as nothing; It's the moment that makes her day. He's kicking bright footballs; he's unpeeling his shield. She hates goodbyes, fear because he never learned how to fall and love and how to care for another person. She doesn't know when she will see him again, i
The Art of Refining ProseThe Art of Refining Prose8 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The Art of Refining Prose
Many writers dread the editing process. Not only does it delay the showcase of prose, it can seem a tedious and painstaking task. Often, editing is more time-consuming than the initial writing and consequently, it is either ignored altogether or briefly indulged. This is a great shame. Sincere editing not only proves a pleasurable experience but invaluable to prose, as this is a wonderful opportunity to buff, polish and tighten the impact of one's writing.
Some might argue that editing is not only unnecessary, but detrimental to the raw concept of ones inspiration. The answer to this is simple: select a prose that hasnt been edited and compare against one that has. Its soon evident that a well-edited piece is not only easier to read, but communicates the authors ideas with greater clarity. Few Bestsellers hit the shelves having skipped the editing office. And unless the author has behind them years upon years of writi
Poster - MormorPeople are putting up posters of you. Their saying shit like "Richard Brook was a fake" and "Moriarty was real." It's annoying, to say the least.Poster - Mormor3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I miss you, you bastard.
Jim stared at the text he got, feeling a mixture of humor, at how Sebby was annoyed by the posters, and sadness, remembering how painful it is to stay away from his lover for so long. He's been away for months before but that was business. Not that this wasn't business either, but it was business in which he could only stare at the texts Sebastian sent him with a heavy ice-cold heart and empty wishes to be able to text him back. But he couldn't. Not yet. He typed out a reply-
"I miss you too, pet.
and was tempted to send it. His thumb hovered over the send button but he shook his head and shoved his phone back in his pocket.
No. Not yet.
Sherlock's Fear of DogsSherlock was undoubtedly and absolutely terrified of dogs, especially strays. Why? Because when he was young, Mycroft brought a stray home. He thought it was "harmless" and "cute" and asked their mummy if he could keep it. It was a rather big dog and a mutt so Sherlock didn't understand why he thought it was so "harmless" and "cute." But then again, Mycroft did have strange tastes.Sherlock's Fear of Dogs4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Anyway, right when mummy was about to relent and let him keep the thing, it escaped Mycroft's hold and tacked Sherlock to the floor, scratching and biting at him. Poor Sherlock managed to somehow get away from the stray without getting bitten but scratches marred his skin and tore and bloodied his clothes.
Although his family got rid of the dog immediately after, the damage was already done. Sherlock was absolutely traumatized and terrified of dogs.
So, when John came home with a small puppy - a stray, matted unkempt fur and no collar - he inwardly freaked out and left to the kitchen, calli
Dance Dance - SherlockSebastian and Jim were at a bar, celebrating their victory over the last case. Sebastian could hold his liquor reasonably well, but later in the night he found he actually couldn't hold his liquor, and he actually dropped it all over the floor. At this realization he only giggled and took another sip of his beer.Dance Dance - Sherlock3 years ago in Humor More Like This
And then, Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy started to play on the radio in the background in the bar and Sebastian jumped up excitedly, nearly losing his footing. "Oh shit, I love this song!" He cried to the rest of the drunk people in the bar and Jim, who was only a little tipsy and the radio that was only background music earlier got cranked up. Sebastian started singing along with the song just as they hit the chorus, nearly butchering the song in his drunken state.
He even attempted to get on a table and start dancing, but soon found out that gravity decided that the ground was a much better place to be right then. He bobbed his head to the music and danced around on the floor
Tiger - Mormor(?)Sebastian had long since gotten used to the nicknames Jim gave him, but that didn't mean he had to like them.Tiger - Mormor(?)3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Pet" had to be the worst one. Jim only ever used it for the most meaningless tasks. "Pet, make me tea.", "Pet, we're out of spaghetti."
"Pet, my experiment went horribly wrong, come clean it up for me." Jim's voice echoed from the kitchen, as if to prove his point.
Sebastian sighed and stood up from his place on the couch to get a mop. He entered the kitchen to see some sort of bubbling, radio-active green mass on the white tile floor. He looked around to see that Jim already fled the crime scene. He turned back to the thing in front of him, wondering if a mop would even be the right tool to use for something like this. He shrugged and used it anyway, trying to ignore how the mop started to turn green. "Shit Jim, what the fuck did you do?"
Although the nicknames did annoy him to no end, he had one that he preferred over all
Sherlock and Green Eggs and Ham?It was St. Patrick's day, and everything was green. Green flags, green decorations, green shirts saying "kiss me I'm Irish", and a thousand other things, including food. Sherlock and John went out to eat as they always did, except that it was breakfast, which was unusual for them. But they did anyway because somehow making toast and coffee seemed like too much work today.Sherlock and Green Eggs and Ham?4 years ago in Romance More Like This
Sherlock fiddled with the green, shamrock speckled scarf John insisted him to wear as he sat waiting for their food. They both got eggs and ham, but knowing the festive Irish restaurant they were in something would be green on those plates. The coffee they got was green and the mugs were decorated with bright four-leaf clovers.
The waitress finally came around with their food and when she set the plates down in front of them, they looked down at their plates, shocked. There, on their plates was exactly what they ordered: two sunny-side up eggs and a slice of ham. But they were green, a bright green that made them look
72. Insomnia - JohnlockJohn lay awake in bed, an all too familiar violin screeching downstairs. Of course, it wasn't actually screeching, but at three in the morning it might as well be. Now if it had been in the afternoon or sometime that wasn't in the middle of the night, the violin would be quite pleasant.72. Insomnia - Johnlock4 years ago in Romance More Like This
He squeezed his eyes shut and held his pillow up against his ears. The action was futile, he knew from doing so several times before. Upon realizing that it still wouldn't work he let go of the pillow and opened his eyes with a sigh. He kicked off the blankets and stood up, walking over to the door of his room. He opened it up just enough to poke his head out and yelled, "Would you keep it down! Some people are trying to sleep!" He tried his best to sound threatening and angry but it only came out as tired and groggy and not intimidating at all. The sound of the violin paused for a moment and John thought that he finally got through to him. Unfortunately he didn't and the screeching continued. John sigh
Heartbreak HillThe bitter cold, the rising damp,Heartbreak Hill6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tears the whole world right through
The hunting pack, the baying wolves,
Are all coming after you.
Better run to Heartbreak Hill
The sleeping dawn, the reason why,
Never seem to be clear
The warming hugs, the smiling face,
Always just disappear.
Better run to Heartbreak Hill
The angels breath, the wings in flight,
Fly away upon the sky
The blazing sun, the pitch black night,
Both are going to be nigh.
Better run to Heartbreak Hill
Since on Heartbreak Hill you played when you were young,
With your friends; the golden grass now picks up tears
That you cry onto the ground; but worry not
This childhood place will stem the pain
Get you back up to love again
So youd better run to Heartbreak Hill
Utopia INorway is sitting on the very end of the pier, ice blue eyes staring out at the calm gray sea westwards, when Denmark finds him. Gray clouds hang low; fall chills the world and the sound of gentle waves and seagulls cawing overhead mingles with the creak of rotting wood as Denmark slowly approaches the other. Norway's hair glitters, gold caught in dirt, skin the color of milk, nose as red as a cherry he's ill again. His clothes are patched and frayed; he looks worn, tired, with dark bags underneath the piercing ice of his eyes.Utopia I4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Denmark knows why he is here, sitting on a pier and staring to the west with eyes that burn with hot tears that Norway has cried a thousand times too many but will cry a thousand more. Denmark knows, because he does the same thing not as frequently as Norway, but often. It's quintessential to Norway's sanity that he does that, so Denmark is not here to drag him inside, nor did he come to offer words of comfort, as they'd be meaningless anyway.
Cold - MormorIt was freezing. The heater was broken and there was a horrible draft. They were in the dead of winter and a hail storm was raging outside, the tiny balls of ice beating at the window violently. It was surprising that the glass didn't shatter altogether.Cold - Mormor3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Jim sat on the couch with Sebastian's hoodie and a blanket wrapped around his small figure. He was tempted to go downstairs and yell at someone about it, but he didn't want to move from his warm cocoon he created around himself. It was too cold to even think about moving. He didn't dare let his fuzzy-sock-covered feet touch the icy ground.
He silently urged Sebastian to come back to their flat faster. He was out on a job Jim gave him earlier, no doubt out there in the freezing mess that people called the weather. Jim smiled slightly at the thought. That Sebastian would sit out there in the swirling flurry of ice, unseen and waiting for the perfect time to shoot, all for him.
It was at that time that Sebastian decided to walk into the f
18. Flowers - MerryxPippinFlowers18. Flowers - MerryxPippin4 years ago in Romance More Like This
Merry stared at the flowers he bought with an embarrassed blush spread across his cheeks. He couldn't believe he actually bought flowers of all things. It wasn't any of his friends' birthdays either, not that it was weird to give a gift among hobbits if there were no special occasions. Rather, it was for Pippin.
For some reason, he got the strangest idea to tell Pippin his true feelings, how much he truly loved his dear friend. It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, they've been the best of pals all their lives. But now that he thought about it, he didn't want to lose that friendship if his feelings weren't returned.
It was too late now He was already in front of the other hobbit's door and he already knocked on the light wood. Maybe, just maybe, he could turn around and leave before - Pippin opened the door and smiled at the sight of Merry. Just before Pippin opened the door completely Merry quickly hid the bouquet behind his back, though it did no help to hi
DiferenteMe contemplo en el espejo,Diferente5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Se que soy igual a ti,
Nada extraño en mí reflejo,
Mas tú no lo ves así.
Tú me miras cual enfermo,
Un humano en perdición,
Mas no merezco yo este infierno,
No escogí ser lo que soy.
Todos somos diferentes,
No lo puedes comprender?
Ningún daño te he causado,
Igual debes responder.
Mas tus puños he sentido,
En tus ojos hay rencor,
Las palabras más hirientes,
Has lanzado sin temor.
Mis lamentos te divierten,
Odio hay en tu corazón,
No hay ayuda alrededor.
Y alguien dice ser mi amigo,
Aceptarme como soy,
Pero un muro nos separa,
Yo del otro lado estoy.
Te han llamado tolerante,
Eres una inspiración,
Orgulloso te has sentido,
Yo no entiendo la razón.
Se tolera algo molesto,
Un insulto o el dolor,
Tolerar a una persona,
No es rechazo el día de hoy?
Estoy harto de prejuicios,
De ser una decepción,
De miradas de reproche,
John's BirthdaySherlock lay on the couch, his hands steepled under his chin, thinking. Tomorrow was John's birthday. They should celebrate. But how? A few ideas came to mind. He could throw a party. No, he thought. Sherlock didn't like parties; they were to noisy, too many things happening all at once. A party was crossed out on his mental list. They could go to the cinema. No, they tried that once before when they went on a date and John got annoyed at him for predicting what would happen. They also got thrown out because he was being too loud. Cinema got crossed out. They could go out. No, they went out too often, it wouldn't be special. Going out was crossed out. He could go buy a cake and just have a quiet night in. No, he can't buy a cake and hide it from John on such short notice. Buying a cake was crossed out. He could bake a cake. It can't be too hard. Just follow the recipe and it should turn out fine, right? Right. Baking a cake it is then. But what flavor? Maybe he could do a marble cake,John's Birthday4 years ago in Romance More Like This
50- Winter50] Winter50- Winter3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was the middle of winter when the heater in the flat of Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty went out.
Jim's teeth chattered, and he was greatly tempted to go chop someone's tongue out to get the damn boiler fixed, but he knew it was slightly warmer in here than it was out there. So he pulled his knees up to his chest, gathering the blankets around himself and curling down into them. Sebastian was out doing a job, shooting someone between the eyes at his king's command. But really, Jim wanted him back at the flat so he could steal his body heat. Fishing his phone out of his pajama pant pocket, with shuddering fingers, he shot off a text to his right hand man.
Now, to wait.
On my way home, boss. Target's done for. -SM
Good. Now hurry. You have ten minutes. -JM
Make it 5 -SM
Jim smiled down at his phone, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. A couple, slow moments later, Jim heard footsteps plundering down the hall, and the door opened.
"Damn, why's it so cold?" Sebas