In Memoriam Elliott SmithIn Memoriam Elliott Smith11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Listening to a dead man's music
His body only just cold
Blood gushing from his heart
Like lyrics used to from his pen
"I'm not uncomfortable feeling weird"
He sung, and it comforted me
He wrote of taking the easy way out
But didn't, or did he?
His voice lingers in my head
Like a ghost not wanting to depart
And the reflection in the water shouts to me
That nobody cared, nobody understood
I'm never gonna know you now,
but i'm gonna love you anyhow.
"Only the Good Die Young"I think i've always been an idealist,"Only the Good Die Young"7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
since i was tall enough to stand.
I'd tell the truth to a fault, put secrets in a vault,
And keep trust as beffiting a man.
But i think to be an idealist,
one must always remain naive.
In a childlike way, lest the world have its say,
And lay you low as one of the bereaved.
For i fear i'm becoming a realist,
of most bitter and twisted bent.
As the world trudges along, and i fight to cling on,
I can't help but feel innocence rent.
For it seems to get along in this world,
one must compromise or one must die.
"Only the good die young," is a truth thats well sung,
And those who live long live out the lie.
SomberEven before she walked through the door of the church, the young Princess Selene Nocte Luna of the Equestrian Empire had decided she disliked funerals. The clothes were terribly scratchy, and silence among so many ponies was unnerving to her. Though Princess Luna enjoyed silence, with so many other ponies milling around morosely in the courtyard, afraid to break it, she was utterly disturbed. Her sister, the young Princess Helios Diem Celestia of the Equestrian Empire, seemed perfectly at home, however. Princess Celestia was known, at least to her sister, as an impeccable actress that took joy in adapting to the environment around her; she walked beside her sister with carefully-planned somber footsteps, her expression a mask of fragile and broken sorrow for a pony she had never met.Somber2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
That pony was Queen Callista, a very distant cousin of Princess Celestia and Luna’s mother, the queen of the earth. Queen Terra strode beside her daughters now, alongside her husband King Cielo, rule
A Bundle of Joy - Levi x ReaderA Bundle of Joy - Levi x Reader7 months ago in Romance More Like This
When you called him into the living room, Levi had no idea just what he was in for. Maybe if he did he would’ve been more prepared for what you would say to him, not that he’d ever find out now.
You sat on the couch, your hands in your lap as you twiddled your thumbs and nervously shifted in your spot. Levi simply waited for you to finally work up the backbone to say whatever it was you were about to say. If he were being completely honest, though, your silence was bugging the ever-living shit out of him.
“Umm… So, Levi…” you mumbled, not even looking him in the face. “Uh, so… there’s something that you should probably know.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured. What is it,” he more so demanded than asked.
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes tight. “I’m pregnant!” you blurted out.
His face was void from any expression, save his slightly-widened eyes, as he tried to comprehend those two words. You
Dean's Pie: Dean x Reader oneshotThe can hissed as your pressed the nozzle down and swirled a generous amount of whipped cream over your microwaved slice of apple pie. It was the last slice… You were craving something sweet. You shoved the can of cream back into the fridge, a naughty smile on your lips as you scurried across the bunker to hide behind a bookshelf and eat your pie in secret.Dean's Pie: Dean x Reader oneshot10 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
You slid low into a chair, pulling your knees into your chest and trying to make yourself as small as possible. If Dean caught you sneaking the last slice of pie, you were dead. The forbiddenness of it all made the pie even sweeter.
Your fork scraped against the plate as you took the first bite. Your eyes rolled in ecstasy. It was the perfect blend of caramelized apple and cinnamon. It was surprisingly delicious, despite being a gas station dessert. You couldn’t help but sigh through your nose and slump back.
‘I feel like I need a cigarette,’ you thought to yourself with amusement. Seriously. This pie was li
(Modern Au) Levi x Reader- DT- Meeting Room(Modern Au) Levi x Reader- DT- Meeting Room1 year ago in Romance More Like This
Warning: You're about to read mature and suggesting themes
Story 8: Meeting Room
You had been working in the Corp’s corporation for a little less than three months and you couldn’t deny that you loved it. You had begun working in floor 30, 4 floors below Levi and he came down every opportunity he had. Erwin had introduced you to the staff reluctantly leaving out the fact that Levi was your boyfriend, you had later asked him why and he just winked at you. He knew perfectly well how much you loved to tease Levi and much to his dismay if nobody knew about your relationship it was going to be much more easier to get him jealous over any situation.
So far you jealousy plans had more or less worked. Boy’s had flirted with you and even asked you out, the thing was because Levi is four flours above you he couldn’t see much. Thankfully from floors 30 upwards the employees had a private recreation room, which allowed you to make a scene in front of your secret boyfriend.
(Modern Au)Levi x Reader-DT-Chitchat in the shower(Modern Au)Levi x Reader-DT-Chitchat in the shower1 year ago in Romance More Like This
Warning: You're about to read mature and suggesting themes
Story: Chitchat in the shower
You asked stepping into the apartment. You were exhausted. Your day had consisted on meeting and paperwork. Apparently your bosses had heard that The Recon’s Company had offered you a job and a very juicy offer. So, you guessed that they were pushing you to your limit until you decide to leave. You still hadn’t talked to Levi about it and didn’t even know that you were going to accept the offer but how things were going, you probably would accept it. You were a little angry about how little faith they had on you after everything you did for them.
You sighed and locked the door. You just wanted to snuggle with your boyfriend in bed. You took off your black stilettos; they were left forgotten on the front door. You brought your hands up to your white button up shirt and unbuttoned a few of them. You walked towards the room. He didn’t answer so you a
hibernation.I have a problem:hibernation.5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the doctor says I can't speak;
my heart is on mute
IdentityDrunkenly stumbling, never fully awake.Identity2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wash. Rinse. Repeating these old audiotapes.
You build corners out of souvenirs
To stand in after the rain. You
Would like to stay dry, but the roof is
I enjoy B-movies with enemies
While two-faced friends poison my bubbly.
Superstitions are instinct, and you wear
Crosses to keep the vampires away, only
Praying in secret when you fear Hell's
Love Letter To My AntagonistDearest,Love Letter To My Antagonist6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I am trying to drown myself in words. I am trying to float away in ink. So far it is not working.
Are you going to hold it against me?
When I first wrote about her, my main character, the heart and soul of a heartless and soulless narrative, she was the complete opposite of me. Completely fiction. But as you and I grew farther and farther apart with that stupid changing, that metamorphosis of yours, she and I grew closer and closer together, so now I'm not quite sure.
Today you yelled at me again, hands rough and cold and hard as you threw me to the ground. Maybe I picked myself up and walked away like it didn't matter. But inside I dissolved into dark liquid. You probably didn't notice.
She did. She melted with me. She stood by me as I slowly lost myself, holding my hand, my pain hers. I think she's becoming a better friend than you are.
She hates you, you know.
The Drivers DanceA quick glance in the rearview mirror confirms that it's still there, the silver car, gliding through the dark streets behind me. And with every looming roundabout, we ski forwards on smooth cool rubber, skimming the curves elegantly.The Drivers Dance5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
At the red lights, the golden streetlamp spills over the car easing to a halt behind me. The driver is illuminated, hinting at the frame of a man, an arm propped casually against the steering wheel.
When amber hits green, we both indicate, simultaneously choosing the left path, and swinging our metal hips that way.
Through urban straights and country twists, he follows, keeping a respectable distance, casually trailing my tracks in the rain. Our driving dance is intricate, mapping miles of uncovered ground, minutes and hours sailing by. I wonder if, like me, his destination is uncertain. If the beginning of his journey was like mine.
We travel like this for over an hour, equal speeds, equal minds. A two car camel train, perusing the deserts of a tarmac st
this is why we don't...she made lovethis is why we don't...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a best of
spilling not quite
but I've been
to be broke
for a long
an open throat
something like a
replace the pressure
with a spray
SurrealismThree a.m., andSurrealism2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
God is in my bathtub
a freshwater moon
in the mother-of-pearl sky.
A Cloudy June SunriseI had been awakeA Cloudy June Sunrise2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
since rain fell against the window:
exciting the glass
but not disturbing your sleep.
Instead, you woke to the alarm and found me
revising my thoughts on humanity,
our frailty and guts.
You asked if I was okay,
if I needed anything while you were out,
and I answered, "Just some sleep."
Unconvinced, dressing hastily,
you promised to come home earlier than you had
any other day that week.
"I just want you to know
you can bother me with those obsessions
that make you feel evil
or at least a little fucked up,"
you said before leaving, though I can't blame you
for assuming my pessimism.
It is, after all, the disease I came fitted with,
as well as my tongue of choice
when problems convolute,
but that morning
the sky was so beautiful,
and what I needed to tell you was this:
I offer my poetry
as a blatant exhibition of trust
for you, for your curiosity,
because I didn't believe any man
had inherent goodness
until I met you.
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bones11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
nine things i missnine: i miss the way you smell, the way you used to kiss me goodnight and the way your unshaved stubble would feel against my six year old skin. i miss the excited misery of your presence, the way you loved me but made me cry.nine things i miss5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
eight: i miss the way i'd lay in the dark, not quite sleeping, just so i could listen to you and mum talk. and then when she left, the way you'd fiddle with the strings on your guitar as if the notes somehow filled the empty space that hangs in the air where her sullen voice used to linger.
seven: i miss the way the wet grass used to feel between my toes and the way our neighbor's cinnamon doughnuts used to taste so much better when i ate them staring at the sky on top of my tree house. i was only eight, but i knew there was something special about everything back then and i miss that hope, that security.
six: i miss his house, the one with the fig tree and the hill in the back yard. the one with the old washing line that we'd all hang off as he'd push us around
AgedThere's a picture of youAged2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in your tuxedo,
new wife on your arm and
you're only nineteen and
I am ashamed but
I wonder if she's pregnant.
And you are twenty two,
clothed in your bridal halo,
with a new-found surname
I can't pronounce.
We don't talk much but
I am happy for you.
You are headed towards fatherhood
and I've never met the mother, but
once you took me for a date and
things didn't click.
I can't help but wonder
if things were different,
if I would be
staring down that plus sign,
asking what the hell I was going to do
with two lives.
Even I am moving forward,
one year closer to the real world and
no longer playing dress-up
with my grown up clothes.
If my life was a chalk drawing,
the people in the background
finding lives that are too different
to fit into mine.
I feel old,
looking at my past like its over my shoulder,
and innocent simplicity
is the wind knocked out of my lungs.
One day I will wake up and stare down the morning,
wondering when hours turned
a different explorationwe talk abouta different exploration2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
astrology and ex lovers. the raspberries
dying in the heat, the way the water
bit our skin, the homeless man set out
to buy California, the center of our universe,
you. that feeling labelled “blah,”
and the notion I am not my own.
we leak questions
like overrun rivers, excess spillage,
draining curiosities about that tragic skeleton
balled up beneath your clothes.
and for you,
I’d travel the length between heartbeats,
shallow and vain like your promises,
your liquid eyes.
above all, we were lucky.
miracle children. one in ten,
one in a million, a pair of stragglers
in seven billion exempt from
clarity and unclaimed skin.
I know this guy who had
sorry lips and scars down his spine
without a story. we didn’t have
a thing to say so we talked about
how the stars were our newest horizon,
the undefined, and how we’d escape to them
point of originthere's a boy in the apartment next to mine who listens to me sleep. he doesn't like people; how they find a gaping seam and rip at it until the threads pull apart. he doesn't understand shame; the way it builds until it almost breaks the skin, and he doesn't understand the way that love can light the darknesses behind eyelids. he knows that lust can burn up your blood, that a "no" whispered is a "no" screamed, that there is good and evil and a difference between the two.point of origin5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
sometimes he looks at people and wants to crawl inside their skin, walk around in it until the smell gets to be too much, and he wants to wrap his hands around a throat and squeeze until even the gasps fade. he speaks to me through paper-thin walls saying, "love me. love me. love me" and, at my refusing, will reach inside my limbs and pull out my strings with thick fingers, stretch them across his ribs and pluck them until they resound. he tells me that he can't read anymore because it makes him feel a little bit craz
Michelangeloi.Michelangelo6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Michelangelo had hawk wings for hands.
He had a lisp. Michelangelo wore a red
ribbon on his wrist and he had a mole on
his left knee.
Michelangelo had 'Masterpiece' tattooed
in a hardly-legible english calligraphy
across his back. He had eighteen inch
biceps. When he began the curve of David's
nose, twelve deaf children could hear again.
Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel
with his toes, if you look closely at God's left
forearm, you can see the toeprints. He knew
how to define the word 'art' in twelve different
languages. When he put a chisel to a stone,
people had orgasms.
Irrational NumbersI wait for the moments when 1+1=1, the glorious inequalities preserved forever in the formaldehyde of my mind. While she sleeps, I peel them, layer by layer, until the duvet is covered in dust. Pulsating moments quiver, but once ripped apart, they reveal nothing more than shrivelled seconds, naked and twitching before my eyes. One by one, they stop twitching until they crumble away into nothing. I brush the dust off the covers, and a stray hair off her sleeping face. She has not stirred.Irrational Numbers7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
She pretends to understand my obsession with numbers, but when shes asleep, she cant hide. I prop open her eyelids with my fingers and worry at the apprehension I find. I tell my wife I love her twenty times a day but the beauty of the constancy of twenty in relation to the constancy of our love fails to touch her. She replies to questions with answers; I, with more questions. There are times I doubt our compatibility, but our common factors take precedence over our irrational coupli
hint 87every day,hint 875 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
go home and convince yourself
that you've never met a woman.
if it helps,
dig a hole in your yard
and fill it with your head.
if you do not have a yard
in which to dig,
from a family member
or sympathetic friend.
if you do not have a head
with which to fill your hole,
all the better for it.