its YOU that I loveNo matter how much you push me awayits YOU that I love7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No matter what you say about me
No matter who you're with
or who I'm with....
Its YOUwho I love
On being punkOn being punk11 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
It's so controversial. You are but you aren't. What is it really about?
There is no uniform. No music you have to listen to, no hairstyle you need to have. You have what you want. You are what you want. You express yourself differently than everyone else, for one reason. You're not afraid.
This so-called subculture is so much the rules designed by adults who don't understand. They think that it's a way of getting attention, a way of masking insecurities. But they're wrong. Sometimes you don't want attention. You just want to be free to be yourself.
But not everyone can be punk. Putting on a tie and spiked bracelets and singing a song about "Sk8tr bois" doesn't make you punk. Everyone seems to want to be a punk today, that's the problem. They're so ready to label themselves as something that they know nothing about, and throw out the label in a few months when the next big thing comes along.
How are you punk? You just are.
Emo GirlEmo GirlEmo Girl8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Her nails are black
Her heart is torn
No turning back
To where it's warm
Her skin is scarred
The blood runs red
Her life is hard
She'll soon be dead
This stereo-typical poem
Is a tale of our world
Written to show the masses
The life of an emo girl.
asthmashe smokes marlboro cigarettes with the bedroom door locked. i taste it on her breath, lips and skin everyday after school. her bed is a mattress on the floor. sometimes we make love on it and i wonder if she'd rather have her mouth around a cigarette than me right then. she has asthma too.asthma6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
she is my second cousin. i didn't know this until two years after we began fucking and three years after i fell for her. i don't think it really matters. emily says if i ever made her pregnant she'd make me punch her in the stomach, heavy and hard. but i never would you know, i love her.
the smoking is killing her. i hid the cigarettes beneath the sink, but she just bought new ones and hid them better. she had her head down in the pillow, coughing, coughing until she coughed up sticky blood. i cried for her and she told me to stop being such a pussy. i told her i loved her and she drew another cigarette. kissing it ways she'd never kiss me.
some nights i sleep over hers. her father doesn't mind, he
.Dreaming.I've been dreaming about you lately..Dreaming.7 years ago in Other More Like This
I don't know why. I just know that it's been getting more and more frequent.
The dreams are generally fragmented. It's as though I'm simply scissoring out a place and time in the world and setting the both of us in it. It's generally blurred. I can't quite imagine your face. It's...so strange. It's as though I'm...afraid...ashamed, even, to look at you. Why is that? Because you're too beautiful for me? Too Godly? I suppose either way it boils down to you being too good for me. I'm so inferior to your beauty and grace that even in my dreams I can't look at you.
These dreams...they always depict what I want most. In most cases, I didn't even realize that that is what I wanted.
You. Kissing me. In a place where everyone could see. In a place where no one could see. Holding me. Grasping me tight as though you couldn't bear to let me go. Outside, where the sun warmed my back and the two of us swung peacefully on a swing-set. Indoors where
GO For It Chapter 8It was raining. This sort of thing always seemed to happen when Gerards depression was at its zenith. It would rain or his car would break down or his parents would start fighting again or something little and stupid that brought his mood to an even lower low would happen and he just couldnt understand why.GO For It Chapter 87 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The drops of moisture pitter-pattered on the dirty windshield of his car, the beads leaving their tails of water trailing down the glass. He sat there, hands clutching the worn and peeling material on the steering wheel, watching and listening to the rain as it came down almost delicately from the faded grey sky. The sounds, like the sound of tiny feet scattering across the hood of his car, were calm and soothing, the air sticky and warm. But his insides were tied and hot, his stomach nauseas and twisting around like some sort of frightened animal. He didnt want to get out. He didnt want to leave the safety of his car, where nobody taunted him with their susp
Go For It Chap 10The leaves on the trees had abandoned their usual places on their branches. As the air cooled and the sun left the sky a little quicker each day, the leaves now congregated in piles on the browning grass, joining wilting flowers and the occasional dead rodent. It had gotten cooler. And while the air was still warm enough that one didnt require a heavy jacket but rather, a light one more accommodated to the rapidly deteriorating autumn (such as the one Gerard usually wore), the temperature was acquiring an annoying habit of declining at inconvenient times. Such as when Gerard left his car for ten minutes to get coffee. And that just wasnt something you wanted to come back to.Go For It Chap 107 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Gerard sat down in his car again, put one of his cups of coffee in the cup holder and continued (not that he had stopped) to sip (gulp) cautiously (quickly) on the one in his hand (hand). He could have cared less that his throat was burning, his car was now uncomfortably chilly on the inside, and he mig
GO For it Chap. 9Franks eyes were large, his hair dark and wet and in his face, his gloved hand pressed to the glass on his window, and Gerard really couldnt believe this was happening. He had heard that old cliché about how history always repeated itself but he seriously didnt think that history would have an affinity for bad things happening when he was in his car. Currently, one of Gerards hands was on the gear shift, the other on the steering wheel, all of his knuckles white. He couldnt see his face, but he was sure that the look was completely wide-eyed and stupid. It was odd how quickly his emotions could change. Less than five minutes ago he was suffocating on fear and pain, and now his insides felt cool and clean, as if they had been rinsed with fresh water. He felt a sudden pang of attraction occur in the core of his being. Frank looked, through his eyes, beautiful and innocent; his lips were slightly parted as he leaned into the window (he was so close thatGO For it Chap. 97 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
GO For It Chapter 6 AGAIN. Im sorry for being a procrastinator. Here is chapter six. Love it or die like the BABIES YOU ARE Sure, that made no sense, but the storys good, right? Note: This is so late because not only was I out of town for several days, but Ive also been sick. So this chapter is dedicated to everyone who has been sick this season and still had to do shit.GO For It Chapter 67 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Confidence isnt exactly what Gerard had. His lack of self-esteem was dug so deep that it would probably take a thousand dump trucks full of confidence to bring him up to normal speed. The makeover from Finch was probably worth about a shovel full. He was beginning to stumble over his words less when he talked to Frank, gradually looking the other boy in the eye (it started out with swift glances, the stares getting lengthier each time they spoke) instead of starring at the ground. But be that as it may, there was still this wall of fear that rose up inside his brain whenever Finch glanced at him from b
GO For It Chapter 12The first phrase that writhed into the crevices of Gerards brain- his minds first attempt at describing the awkward, sideways, breathless feeling that had pushed and shoved its way, uncomfortable and jagged, against the tight, restricting walls of his insides- came quick and simple, like a sudden breath of fresh air. It consisted of two words and, he had never been much of a poet nor had he ever been particularly gifted when it came to description, he actually sort of liked how it sounded. At that moment- that horrible, beautiful, surreal moment- when Frank pressed his lips against Gerards, the other boys delicious, arousing scent filling his nostrils and the warmth and curiosity and slight apprehension pulsating off his body like a some dulled heartbeat, Gerard immediately felt as if his insides had twisted. As he stared at Frank, his fingers clutching the thin, plastic DVD case to the point of a throbbing discomfort, and just simply realized how emotionallyGO For It Chapter 127 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Happy Birthday Gerard WayToday, Wednesday April 9th, 2008, Gerard Arthur Way of the alternative-punk band My Chemical Romance celebrates his 31st birthday.Happy Birthday Gerard Way7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
From all of us to you, happy birthday, Gerard! Keep being that crazy frontman we know and love. We're more than fans, we're your family. We all love you very much!
.I Will Follow You. :Frerard:Hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt in his body, pain worming into his muscles, stinging his skin. It hurt his brain. He could almost feel the organ crying out in agony, in desperation, pulsing and throbbing like some sort of dying monster. It hurt in his soul. That strange, abstract place between his stomach and his chest felt vacant, empty, as if something that had once been there had been ripped out from inside him..I Will Follow You. :Frerard:7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Why. Why, God, WHY did this have to hurt so much? Hurt with the pain of envy and lonliness and anger and that sweet, sad feeling of losing what you love most. And, dear God, it was so painful he couldn't stand, couldn't get off his knees as he let the tears so hot that his eyes stung flowed down his face and hit his jeans. He could hear himself sobbing, the dry, cracking sound of hitching breath that was so broken and childish and it hurt and it Hurt and IT HURT...
"No more..." He gasped out, hugging himself tightly with his arms around his chest as if to hold himself
Ich liebe dich.Miluji teIch liebe dich.7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The translation is the same. Maybe a few words change, but the meaning remains. As far as I know, the only language to pass your lips with fluency is English. But would you actually be able to see past those unfamiliar words and understand this- this thing thats so important, so painful, so beautiful that no language on this planet can enclose it in words, make it something you can understand?
Ik hou van jou
You have no idea how it eats at me. It gnaws at my insides until theyre bruised and raw. It hurts, it hurts so horribly you cant possibly understand, and at the zenith of the pain there is this beauty and happiness I cant describe. Tell me, when was the last time you felt that pain so immense that it melted to pleasure?
And I would endure that pain until my mind decayed and I went insane if it meant youd follow me into the darkness of insanity. If youd rot with me, I would dig the hole myself.
Go For It Chap 13At this point, Gerard had narrowed it down to several choices, none of which he was too fond of. The first being the pick up his cell phone and call Frank. This wasnt particularly difficult, but fearing a very sudden and very fatal nervousness-induced heart attack, the possibility of this option being chosen was slim to none. He had never liked phone conversations anyway. The second choice was to wait it out. Frank had no choice but to return to school at some point or another. Maybe he could be confronted then, calmly and collectively.Go For It Chap 137 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Yeah. If Gerard grew the balls.
It was most likely that he was going to choose the final option: do nothing. The pathetic thing about this was not even that this was an option out of fear. Half of it was out of laziness. The sheer unwillingness to open his mouth and speak. It was taking way too much emotional energy in order to display affection. He shouldnt feel the urge to take a long nap after a half an hour of mindless chatter. Hi
GO For It Chapter 7 Thank you for your patience. This is chapter seven of Just GO For It Already! The human drama is unfolding, no? Another thing, Ive changed the class Finch and Frank share. Its chemistry, not biology. AND THERE IS AN UNINTENTION MCR LYRIC IN THIS. ITS NOT ON PURPOSE.GO For It Chapter 77 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Finch bit down on her lip. Gerard couldnt see her eyes: they were hidden behind hair and shadow. She was holding his arm out by the wrist, starring at the thick, red lines that spelt the name of the person her friend loved so much. The cuts were on the inside of his arm. They were deep. There was no way she could have known that this was the pain he was feeling and yet she felt responsible. She ran one of her fingers over the word on his ivory skin.
Why Gerard? she asked quietly, her voice high and strained. I thought youd stopped How can you even be sure you love him like ? He tugged his arm away from her and pushed the sleeve down.
Im SorryI can take care of myself.Im Sorry7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I can take the pain.
I can understand.
Even if I'm crying under the rain.
I don't know what happened.
I don't know why,
I don't understand the real reason.
I don't know why I cry.
I didn't do anything wrong
I didn't do anything bad
Well it did last this long
I don't want it to end,
I'm so sad.
I'm sorry for what I did
I'm sorry that I'm not that perfect
I'm sorry for myself.
You didn't do anything bad
You didn't do anything to make me mad
Just that I'm not perfect
I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you mad.
I can't understand
I can't comprehend
I can't let go.
I still love you.
P-r-ep TalkPhone calls are simple. The hunk of plastic has numbers you dial. It gives a monotonous ring before somebody answers. You speak. The line dies. The end.P-r-ep Talk7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
This isn't a phone call. A phone call doesn't make you sweat, doesn't make your heart pound so hard your ribs crack and your lungs flatten against the alls of your insides, doesn't make your stomach churn with nervous acid and sour, stale fear.
She tries to talk me into it, almost massaging my emotions with her words the way a coach massages the muscles of a boxer.
"You can do this."
The crowd is inaudible, but it's there. I know they're there. Cheering for him and booing for me and clapping and crying out.
"No matter what happens, it'll be alright.
But it won't. My tongue is thick and dry and filling my mouth like a plastic mouthguard and when I try to speak the words are thick and and rough. It's so damn hot in here, the crowd is so fucking loud and the announcer is telling me I only have a few minutes le
It's Called Sarcasm, SugarOh, sugarIt's Called Sarcasm, Sugar7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're so tough
Your words are nails
Your eyes are ice
Wouldn't it be nice to be you?
Because I'm so afraid of you
I'm more afraid of myself
And what I'll do to you
If you get too close
You're so tough
And I'm so afraid
Just keep telling yourself that
Puisi tentang CintaCinta itu butaPuisi tentang Cinta9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sebuta hati ketika menerima pesannya
Bila engkau telah mengenalnya
Maka dekaplah erat dengan keyakinan akan keajaibannya
Cinta itu laksana jam pasir di tengah sahara
Bila cinta telah memenuhi hati
Maka akan sudut lain akan menjadi hampa
Cinta itu bagai tikus besar yang menggerogoti tubuhmu
Semakin kau paksa untuk mematikannya
Hanya akan mempercepat cakarnya menyobek hatimu
Dia hidup dari harapan-harapan yang tertanam di jiwamu
Maka biarkanlah dia tidur dalam tubuhmu
Matikan harapan-harapan semu yang menjadi ruhnya
Karena adalah suatu keunikan
Bahwa harapan mungkin datang di saat ketiadaannya
Sang cinta telah terlelap dalam kehampaan
Namun dia tidak selamanya terpejam
Ada saat dia berkata 'putri, bangunkan aku jika kau mau'
Tapi jangan buat aku menunggu
Hidden.My darling,Hidden.7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I miss the way shadows caressed your face
And spiders wove secrets into your eyelashes,
The way your lips always spelled out sanctuary,
And your eyes like keyholes into forgotten love.
I told you I would never give you my heart,
But the beating has faded,
And my rib cage is hollow,
Empty of all but whispering piano keys.
The first time my heart spilled out,
I gave my left ventricle to my mother
to try and ease her pain
After my father stole away my aorta
so that he could always get to me.
My right atrium went to a soul sister
Who was lost along the way,
And a few pulmonary arteries
to the boy down the street with silver eyes.
My left atrium was dropped in an unfamiliar place
to a boy who didn't know the color of my eyes
and still blows kisses of arson every August.
My right ventricle is all that I have left,
with a few pulmonary veins
that never seem to give me the life I need,
The breath to breathe
But with every delicate word,
Stitches come undone
And I am left
It is hard to be softMom cutting Dad's hair in the kitchen. Feather voicesIt is hard to be soft7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because they are discussing matters heavier than water,
jarring scrapes when they move the chair.
Tufts of hair fall, touching the
curved blade of ear. It is sharper, as are our brains,
than you think, even as
the night velvets. It pads alongside my cat,
who sits behind the laundry room door and makes old saxophone sounds.
I slip inside to touch
the kitten scruf of his neck.
How difficult it is, to definitively love or hate,
when everything is so soft.
From where I sit there are no windows
and except for drooping eyelids I would not believe
in the moon. Or in the swift autumn nights
that come upon us like riders. And the hard
hands begin groping in my belly,
begging to be noticed. I do.
Behind the MaskRaising his head, Gai peered toward the front of the assembly at the tall, gray-haired man with his head bowed low. As he watched, the Third Hokage walked up to the man and gently patted his shoulder, murmuring something to him. The man faintly nodded and the Hokage walked on.Behind the Mask7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Beside him, Sarutobi Asuma nudged Gai's shoulder. "You think he's holding up?" he whispered, following Gai's gaze.
Gai shrugged. "I haven't gotten to speak to him yet," he whispered back. "I'll try when this is over."
Asuma nodded, the cigarette stuck between his teeth bobbing with the motion. "Good. I worry about that guy. He's always a little unstable after a funeral."
Someone shouted over the crowd and all the black-garbed shinobi moved to stand rigidly at attention. The gray-haired man slowly walked forward and, bending down, laid a single white chrysanthemum on the coffin before stepping back to join the uniform lines. The shinobi then saluted as one and the funeral was over.
Gai searched through the cro
MarionetteMarionetteMarionette7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You smile, laugh, but inside you sigh
Life is a play that youve memorized
Know when to stand, to sit, to walk
Like a marionette, with no freedom to talk
Your life is yours, but others control it
Your prince has come, but the slipper wont fit
You sit with others, laughing with glee
And you know that you will never be free
Dance they say and you dance for them
Watching them laugh as you twist and you bend
And knowing this, your world goes black
And youre sure the lights never coming back
Dancing, swaying, talking, laughing
Singing, smiling, joking, coughing
Dieing as your heart quickly stops
Finally free as you slowly drop
AugustDear August Eyes,August7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I still remember the way you held me as though I was made of the most precious of porcelain. The way you encompassed me in your strong forearms. I wanted to write down every word we shared, every thought we wove, every song we sang with our hands and our eyes and our lips and turn it into a novel. I wanted to paint the roots of trees with your image so it would grow and upon each branch would be the most beautiful curved flowers that smelt of august wind. That's what you were, what we were, August. Too quickly forgotten about at the end of summer and too quickly shriveled with winter. I don't think I ever told you that I loved you, that I still love you, even though I've been counting patterns and lines on wallpaper for each day you've been gone, my feelings haven't changed.
I'm not sure if you ever really existed, if we ever really existed. Perhaps the days we spent building castles out of toothpicks were just dreams. The days we spent splattering paint on the canvas