A Guilmon change Part 2Karov punched the nearest rock, angrily. Missed...oh, no matter...the next one will be...hey, where did he go? he said, looking around, anxiously. Where is he? Where is that stupid lizard?A Guilmon change Part 28 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Right behind you
Karov turned around...he saw the red creature's fist. A punch in the face, and Karov was on the ground...his riffle landed a few meters away from him. You...how did you...
Alex smiled, showing him his deadly fangs. Let's just say...that I am fast...now...
Karov grabbed the gun in his pocket. Fortunately, Alex had good reflexes, and he managed to kick him in the face, and steal the gun.
Bad move... Alex said, aiming the gun at the man's head. Now...I have some questions for you
Karov spitted blood on the ground. I won't tell you anything...you are wasting your time he said, smiling.
Alex smiled too. Oh...so, I don't need you anymore...and you know...I'm starting to get hungry he
forget yourselfDear J,forget yourself7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I thought I saw you today. It scared me; a cascade of butterflies erupted in my chest. My body lurched and my long-legged chair screeched like an out of tune cricket amidst the orchestral warm-up of the coffee shop but no one, no one noticed--no one noticed you. And no one saw the shade of fog that overtook my eyes, the hollow, haunted shade; like a tear on the cheek, the look that took all afternoon to dry. Are we both invisible?
CursedShe was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, and she hated it.Cursed8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Her hair was smooth and auburn, shiny, sleek, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldnt make it look messy or uncared for. Her face was heart-shaped and her complexion was perfect. She never used any products; she never even wore sunscreen, always hoping that she would get a sunburn that would leave her face wrinkled and damaged, but it never happened. Her eyes were pale gray and never stopped sparkling, no matter how little she slept. Her nose was nicely shaped, her mouth just the right size, her waist and hips thin, her proportions perfect. She was gorgeous, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
It wasnt fair, she thought, that everyone believed her to be perfect. Just because she looked wonderful didnt mean that she was wonderful. Her parents, the two people who supposedly knew her best, thought that
Piano HatI remember when we got our first piano. It was a black upright. Not exactly gorgeous, but definitely a nice instrument. I was really excited to get my hands on the thing, but dad wasnt too, um, keen on the idea -- "Keen"? Really? I say things like that sometimes even though I know they sound lame. What can you do, though? I didnt have my first piano lesson until a few days later. Sounds of tinkling piano keys filled the room. Bassy notes caused the whole foundation to shake. It was a thing of beauty. It really was. Best part: It was me. I was playing it. My hands couldnt throw a ball with any sort of accuracy at all, and I was picked on for it bad, but damn could they play a piano! I mean really! Just damn!Piano Hat8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
That was, what -- like, five years ago? Yeah, I was about eight at the time, so, like, five years ago. So here I am, five years after I started playing the thing, and Im still going. In fact, Ive got a recital tonight. Thats why Im all
you have such a pretty smilei.you have such a pretty smile7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it has been scrawled and every letter looks like a hooked crow's talon, and i am sitting with my jeans all rolled up and my feet are made of seeds and wrinkles like protrusions of stems and dreamy roots, and i am exploding stars in my mind and they shatter like yellow confetti, slivered gold glitter, and i read so slowly like the words might escape me before i can finish, the tail-ends of ns turning into legs and the es unfurling and falling delicately away and the m scattering away like leaves coated in sulfur and membrane and silk, and on the wall is scrawled a picture, a color, that looks like this:
my stomach opened up wide
and out came
a forest, topped in limp rashes of stringy red and slices of white, splattered lightly with a crimson you could dip your finger in and taste, playing your tongue like a careful harp, and the gilded stains of green came out to meet the sun with extended pointing arms
The Breath of GodI.The Breath of God8 years ago in Other More Like This
My bones have been like cabinets;
the hinges all dust, wood punctured.
Breathe, hope, stamina (the grains wheat enough to take on
absence, sweat, and nausea) were misplaced.
Their dearth rearranged my skeleton in certain places,
and I stuck out heresunk in there.
The nonexistence was pushy
bored with the fractures,
ignorant of setting the bone.
I was ignorant of setting the bone, too.
Mirrors were poor reflections,
wasted glass, unable to diagnose.
I was intact. It appeared
that way. The angles spoke of it
they expressed the wholeness of body. Sure they did.
It spoke of other images, too, the one image, mine
like silverware sticking out of me obnoxiously,
unkempt and gray and sharp, with no regard for
But I was still fleshstill, I had
eleven ribs, eight fingers, two kneecaps.
And my marrow
had air pockets.
Ballad of the Love Lost GeekMy heart burns for you, my darlingBallad of the Love Lost Geek10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At 52x speed.
My heart burns for you, my lost love
The Dvd has a 2.8 gigabyte capacity.
When we were together, it was bliss
Just like playing Battlefield2 with surround sound.
But then you sniped me from where you hid
And there was no medic nearby
My heart was fragged.
You had hidden your true self from me,
'twas as if you had built a Gap generator, playing as the Allies in Red Alert.
I wondered then, and still do: was it worth using the spy plane?
It was like in the first level of half life,
I didn't know what to do
I didn't even have a crowbar to defend myself.
And metaphorical headcrabs made zombies of us.
It was like playing diablo 2 on hell difficulty,
And being slayed in the cow level,
And not being able to get your body back,
and then having all of your party members declare hostilities.
But with you, my love
I could not save and exit.
You made me feel like nothing
And you did all that you could, to hurt me
Like playing a network of age of empi
poetry like teaI never want to know you.poetry like tea7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I want to wonder, want to slide back-down and backwards across your glissandos,
linger over the breaths and pauses,
pour into the warm and dark hollows that you curve into your words,
nestle there like water or skin:
I want to sink into the cracks between consonants, smooth them over,
find the sighs folded into the velvet roundness of an O,
contemplate each brightly fractured e in your name, how it
is wrenched open to the world, wounded, and still
curled tight as a fist over the wound:
I want to drink poetry like tea,
in sips, with sugar,
and then in longer draughts until it washes down my throat like heat
and I forget, for a moment, that winter lasts longer than this
and I am far from home:
I want to find you in dead trees and bathroom stalls,
carved with some memory of permanence into the flat surfaces of my world
accompanied by numbers I will never call
for fear of breaking the intimacy of anonymity:
I want to picture you (a picture of you) wi
she lost her facethe postmanshe lost her face7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is at the door again,
delivering her face;
she puts it on
and smiles. She paints
her nails the color of the
sharpens them to points, grows bear teeth.
the children run;
monsters aren't human.whispering the headlines of last saturday's news, he's rocking back and forth, back and forth to the sound of laughter collecting with the rain water. mornings of splattered paint and scrambled eggs fill his life like he filled so many hearts. saving his last breath for later, he smiles instead. maybe simplicity is what we have yet to learn.monsters aren't human.7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
"i'm a monster in my own skin. and monsters aren't human."
sinking ships and shrinking waistlines. she's a mess. all tooth aches and flyaway ribbons of jet black hair. she's the girl with the sharpie markers drawing aimlessly on undamaged skin. in her room are pictures of her failed perfection along with the posters of sought after measurements. she's the girl that was a best friend to someone.
"i'm a monster in my own skin. and monsters aren't human."
empty alleys and broken glass bottles once filled with anger. he's the father with washed out eyes and dead dreams. paycheck to paycheck, bottle to bottle. the eff
Champagne Girlslisten:Champagne Girls7 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the higher you fly, the harder it is to breathe. the harder it is to see all thats below you; to see the ones that helped get your glorious kite off the ground in the first place. you owe them just that much, dont you? for them to at least catch the occasional glimpse of your lofty form between those clouds and the sun's rays pressing down on their heavy eyelids?
we would all love to have a kite that will carry us to heaven's blinding gates, the ideal circumstance, but it seems kites like those are going extinct with infinity between. i'd be happy just to have a balloon to tie to my pinky, one that wont float off at the slightest breeze, hover vastly out of reach of my outstretched fingers among the teetering spires of brick and mortar, modern corridors of hell-scorched babylon, simply to waver, depressurize, and
yesterday i spent nearly 12 hours in the cruel swift winds that rarely blow so sharp on the curvature of vermont's unyielding mountainous vi
when he is sad.he throws his heart at the wall with full forcewhen he is sad.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
steps on it afterwards. he picks it up and places
it back in his chest like a child placing a dead
hamster in the ground. he stops speaking. he stops
trying to make everyone understand
that when you put a heart like that back into a body
an infection spreads. it hurts and keeps him in bed for days.
he stares at the wall, has blankets over the window
to block out the world. he buries himself in the tunnels
of his sheets and becomes a worm for some greedy early bird to eat.
the other day he was walking down the street and a child
stared at him, wide-eyed, then asked her mom
why people's faces twist up like that. Her mother
ignored her but he heard and quietly removed his face,
placing it in a box until it stopped betraying him.
this also helps him to stop speaking, unless
it is in deep throat sounds late at night
when he peels back all his skin except for his eyelids,
drawn tight like dams.
it never helps,
he always ends up drowning
Hippie Lesbian GirlShe don't care for me,Hippie Lesbian Girl9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Half as much as the trees,
I've heard she's a lesbian,
Guess she won't play with my pen,
She likes animals and plants,
But won't let me in her pants,
I don't care about the environment,
Just wanna dance in fields,
I don't care about global politics,
But I'll sit and watch you spin,
Crazy hippie lesbian chick,
Oh won't you be with me?
Hippie lesbian girl,
Oh how I watch you twirl,
From the window in math class,
While you check out Jane's ass,
Hippie lesbian girls, they don't like me,
They're afraid of STDs
Hippie girls don't like pesticides or razor blades,
Lesbians won't let men give them AIDs,
But I'll love you; yes you'll see,
But hippie lesbian girls,
They don't like me!
I don't care about animals,
Or how the world will explode,
I don't care about green house gas,
But knowing you do makes me smile,
If not even for a while,
Hippie lesbian girl,
Oh, won't you be with me,
I won't give you STDs
Get Beat UpI fucking love waking up with a broken nose, swollen eyes, hungover, cold, gutter-stench sallow in last nights damp rags. The lace on my left shoe is missing for some reason. Im covered head to toe in caked mud, or shit its all over the floor, footprints stitching a path from the doorway to the bathroom to in front of the couch where I apparently fell and blacked out, leaving a sort of lurid black snow angel in my wake. Jake is still in the bathroom, face-down in the toilet where he passed out. Hes pissed his pants. Hope hes not dead. Smells like it. Maybe its better if he is.Get Beat Up7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
No, probably not.
Theres vomit in the sink. Two teeth, a canine and a lateral incisor, gagged up, dried to the sides. I kick Jake in the ribs and tell him to get the fuck up. He starts and blinks vacantly at the base of the bowl, breathing raggedly. Whyd you have to puss out on my like that? I could have died. Maybe thats what you were trying for? Fuck y
catch a falling star.you would trace letters on my back, like broken messagescatch a falling star.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you forgot to say out loud. i would whisper my replies, but i
always felt too noisy compared to your silent stream of gentle
words. your silences held secrets and sewed them to your worn-
out lips. danger and understanding stayed glued to my eyelids.
in one night we created our own means of communicating.
i wonder how many others know that language now.
you could make fireworks sparkle and dance in the brightest of
colours. it just took a few moments before the sound to reach
our ears. it all happened so fast, it was like someone turned a
light switch on and off. even the stars looked dead as they began
to fall and tumble from their places in the midnight summer sky.
"catch a falling star and put it in your pocket.
lately we've been dreamingWordspill:lately we've been dreaming7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I have been watching the pot for boiling. It attracts flies, hairy ones with legs dappled in tartar sauce, the shadows of your dreams, speckled across like fabric. When they near my ear, I bat them away, nervous, a palm shelled with cotton string, carrot sticks for fingers.
I want my brothers when they still laughed at fart jokes, and I want my grandmother when she still lived in San Francisco and it rained and I told her I was going to be a veterinarian up on a mountaintop so I could take care of all the wild cats and boars when they were sick, and they would all love me and I would never be alone. My father will only eat fish and chips when we go out to eat. My mother says she is starving.
I have want, I say. I have need. But these are lies, because I live in a nice house with a backyard I don't remember and telephone poles and security wires and roof shingles like big strong prisoner arms that refuse to let me go, caging me inside little cream-colored boxes, and I
Blonde BombshellBlonde Bombshell11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She's an airbrushed blonde bombshell, a teen queen glam rocker
Every boy's masterbation fantasy, perfect on paper,
Disguised by makeup and mishaps, holding in
Her bursting alcoholic liver (its cool, that's why) with the lies she delivers the crowd and
Her lungs burn (its all those cigarettes, you know), but that's no concern, because she's
Beautiful. And she knows it.
It's nothing new, this death she's learned to fake, to die inside
But she's not willing to sacrifice her fame for
Dignity. Because no one's going to remember, (no one's gonna count at the finish line, right?) how much
She has left, when she steps into the Rock and
Roll hall of fame, half dressed, but it's
Gucci, Mom, it's okay, and she'll smile for the
Camera, a girl's best friend, she's good at it now. It took some practice
At first but she's mastered the art of faking it harder
And harder until she's breathing hard, its believable. You might wonder
Why her smile never breaks, it's
61I had a vision.616 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The Virgin Mary came to me in a dream.
She told me that it was almost over.
She showed me the end.
I was eleven years old.
"Why won't you let me touch you?" she asks, staring into my closed eyes.
I can hear a tear slide down her cheek sideways.
"Because then I can't pretend I'm not here," I reply silently, my imaginary voice box sending billions of hypothetical ripples through the air, directly into her right ear.
61 days later it was September 11, 2001.
The day before my birthday.
It seemed like the end was closer than ever.
So I counted down.
Like clockwork, something terrible happened every 61 days.
Hundreds, thousands, millions died.
I was consumed by the fear that the next 61 would be my last.
I think about how inconsequential my life could be, if only I applied myself.
I think about the people who love me, and how they wouldn't miss me if I never existed.
I think my brain is a curious mush of gray and at any point it may decide to stop functioning.
I think t
They Say Budapest Is Lovely...She came into the cafe, ordered aThey Say Budapest Is Lovely...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lowfat something, sat crossing legs; skirt
was short, legs were smooth and she
was all types of stunning bathing in afternoon
sunlight. Pulled a chair and sat across from
her, said, "I know you from somewhere,
you're so familiar." "I'm every girl
you never talked to," she said. "How
bout the lips?" I asked. She tapped
them, "Every pair you never got the guts
to kiss." I leaned over, we kissed for a
moment, sat back, talked about
politics, named dropped Sarah and Barack
till we both disclosed we were bored,
hated politics and politicking.
Moved on to travels, said for you to come with me to
Budapest. You said, "Haven't had a bath in
weeks." Got me a lowfat, double shot something
to go, we skipped the joint and headed for the airport.
Cities looked like bioluminescent beings in the twilight
hour at that height, the smell of her hair swept
over my shoulder relaxed me, cleared my mind some.
Watched her steady rhythm breathing as I realized
I didnt ev
it's not just the leaveslast autumn i spent an entire afternoonit's not just the leaves7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on my back in the grass waiting for a falling
leaf to drift downwards into my open palm.
i was convinced that there was something
special about being the first to hold on to
something that had never touched the ground.
i pulled my eyes shut and tried to make a wish
but when i opened them it was spring again and
i had forgotten how to believe in something that
was heading towards the ground anyway.
The Portrait[975 words]The Portrait7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
You see, its hard to explain Jonathans words formed a small puddle on the expensive, imported carpet next to the shattered corpse of the china vase. His down-turned face was painted in shades of red; the light hue of guilt brushed across his checks with two bold strokes of embarrassment for eyes.
It cant be that difficult, just come out with it.
He didnt mean it, Daddy-- Emma tugged on Fathers sleeve.
I'm talking to Jonathan. Father removed Emmas hand from his suit. Don't speak.
I-I heard Emma shout from the kitchen and I thought she had gotten hurt so I ran to see what was the matter and on the way the vase fell over, he said hurriedly, his shoulders slowly hunching and his palms facing the ceiling.
You ran. Fathers eyebrows fought over the territory between them. &