There's a Body on my TablePaul unlocked, locked, unlocked, locked, unlocked, locked and unlocked the door before pushing it open. He took off his shoes, left one first, and laid them by the door in perfect parallel to each other.
Im home, he called, and from the top of the stairs the fish in his aquarium burbled in response. He counted his steps to the kitchen one, two, three...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. He lined up his feet and looked at the digital clock on the microwave - 6:04. He waited patiently, watching, until ah, 6:05. Letting out the breath hed been holding, he turned to the kitchen table and-
Oh, God. Paul was suddenly acutely aware of his pounding heartbeat in his ears. He somehow managed to steady himself against the chair back and remain upright, but he knew he would faint if he couldnt get himself under control. And he couldnt faint. That wasnt in the Routine.
He steeled himself and looked at the table again.
A dead fly on his kitche
Left-Over MaybesShe made a practice of shooting falling stars in the head.Left-Over Maybes7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
"It's better this way"
and never stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, they'd miss earth and see infinity before they learned what it meant to be stardust.
(Or maybe she did, but couldn't bring herself to believe in anything other than a quick end. )
Tell.Me.I stopped existing the day your tired voice came over the phone, telling me, in the only way you knew how that you didnt give a damn.Tell.Me.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Not about me.
At 5am in the morning, my blurry eyes stared down the history channel, and thought,
well, isnt this depressing?
I remember watching gaunt faced muscle-less bodies crumple in heaps in concentration camps because somebody didnt think they were worthwhile.
(thinking of all the ways I could convince you I was worthwhile. )
Then I remembered
in the end
Hitler didnt get it either.
Yours and MineWe never got those towels his and hers. Those matching pajamas. Our pillows didnt even match, which I know irked you. Sometimes I wonder if you woke up every morning and immediately felt cross because of my pillow, and yours. Yours and mine.Yours and Mine7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
But if you did, you never showed it. You woke me with a kiss and a smile more radiant than the sunrise that we never saw, nestled deeply as we were in the jungle of apartment buildings. Perhaps, then, you were cross about many things. The way I never put away my shoes, so you always were tripping over them; the way I didnt replace the toilet paper when we ran out; the way I wouldnt write mustard on the grocery list when I used the last of it. If it bothered you, you never said it. I had my flaws, and you had yours. Yours and mine.
I suppose its best we didnt get those towels, those pajamas, matching pillows. Even now little things remind me of you, things that didnt used to have any
Cancer Stick"So what was it like?" Her eyes were round with rapt attention.Cancer Stick6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He thought for a moment. "Honestly? Wet."
"Oh, come on." She managed to roll her eyes without breaking eye contact.
"Really. I don't remember much else. No heavenly visions of God, no out-of-body experiences, not even a dark tunnel with a light at the end." He flicked out a cigarette and lit it deftly.
"Why the random interest?" He took a drag, then let it out slowly. "It's not exactly something I'm going to brag about."
"Let's just say that when you jumped off that bridge Well, you did something I've wanted to do for a long time." Her empty eyes were still as focused as ever. Had she even blinked once since they started talking?
Speaking of talking, he had no idea what to say to the girl. He took another puff to fend off the awkwardness. Where was a Twix bar when you needed one? He was trying to blow a smoke ring when she whispered something.
"Pardon?" How the hell do people expect anybody to hear them when they whi
71. ObsessionWhen I pull the trigger we'll stop being here71. Obsession7 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
A sharp dial tone curling up in your ear
The man in the mask is behind the first door
He knows what I'm doing, but I'm not so sure
The beast on my back can not be set aside,
If I'm going down he's along for the ride
The light of the lantern is calling to me
It's significant now, as it ever will be
It's this lacking of time, has set me on edge
Each unpassed moment that's burning my head
This isn't the middle, the end or beginning
Only the slow, silent ceasing of spinning.
This isn't the middle, the end or beginning
Each unpassed moment is burning my head
This lacking of time which has set me on edge
Is significant now as it will ever be
The light of the lantern is calling to me
If I'm fading out it's along for the ride
The beast on my back can not be cast aside
It knows what I'm doing, but I'm not so sure
A man in a mask is behind the first door
The sharp dial tone curling up in his ear
When I pull the trigger, we'll stop being here.
Seven YearsWheres Daddy going?Seven Years9 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Quiet. Mommys busy. The harsh rake of a metal zipper closing. The girl carefully lays her bear on the bed covers, then picks him up again.
When will he be back?
When hes finished.
Finished doing what hes doing.
What is he doing? Her mother pulls the curtains, shutting out the dull, feeble light of the muted sun.
So many damn questions. The squeak of the springs as she lifts the heavy suitcase off of the sagging mattress.
Will he be back for my birthday? The timid voice questions.
No? But he said he would get me a bike, a blue one, we saw it in the window and he said I could have it for my birthd-
No. He wont be back for your birthday.
Im getting old, arent I mommy? she asks proudly.
Old? Hell, youre only six. A raspy laugh, a smoker
It's MagicOnce there was a girl who was born from a stone and she had a star for a heart. One day she met a boy and put her heart in his hands. And it was magic.It's Magic7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Toby didn't get along with the other children at recess. Toby didn't get along with the other children at all. It wasn't that they didn't want to be his friend - children are so accepting at that age - but Toby had no interest in them. So he left them alone, and they him.
At the edge of the playground, just barely within school grounds, there was a little hillock, like the rounded belly of a pregnant woman. The hill bore a massive, gnarled oak. Its branches spread like a canopy, turning the grass, dandelion and clover-studded, into its own shady glade, a meadow elevated above the shouts and laughter of the children at play. Running beside the hill, and out of bounds to students at recess, was a little creek. It was a simple thing, and Toby delighted in it. He sat every day, from the beginning until the end of recess, against the
i don't love you, too i dont love you, he whispered.i don't love you, too6 years ago in General More Like This
a faraway smile crept to her lips while the carousel music droned on around spinning lights and dizzy eyes. he wasnt sure if she was listening this time. last time he echoed those words, pale tampered fingers met his wrist and slid fully into his hand. it was the most fragile of manacles he knew to exist.
the time before that, he had stuttered and choked while speaking, coughing up vowels and consonants without law and order. he couldnt understand himself, so how could she comprehend the rabbit-hole truth? then he tried again. and here was the third time charm.
distance clouded her oh so normal brown eyes when she turned to look at him from her prancing unicorn. the flashing reds, blues, purples, and greens gave her an ethereal halo that cajoled him into thinking she was something special. but it was the yellows that gave him pause. yellow made her look sickly.
may i pretend for a little while longer?
Children, ChildrenChildren, Children,Children, Children6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And hear the sound,
Crying in vain,
People gone insane.
Have a drink,
Have a smoke,
No need to think,
Or to revoke,
She does it,
He does it,
They do to,
All these happy, famous people,
So why not us children too?
Hear the sound,
Your parents weeping in the ground,
You've pierced your nose
And cut your hair,
Kept enemies close
You just don't care
Your phone got fried,
You wept and cried.
Can you hear the sounds?
Your innocence is dying,
Never to be found.
Out at night,
What may have been a citizen,
Is just a useless fight.
Stop this mess,
Andabate I never knew before I met you that fingernails and blood were as effective in making a statement as the word Fuck during Sunday morning tea parties (the ones with porcelain teapots and flowery doilies).Andabate7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
You stuck dont worry Ill fix you nails into my bone marrow and bleached them skeleton white with the acid seeping from beneath your slick and slimy tongue. This way, when they turn to look at me, they will see a human deformity instead of you deforming me.
You taught me the meaning of decorum and discretion (the difference between you and me), but only, when I needed it the most. Ha. I keep telling myself the scent of cinnamon and powder is all
If you sing...Rapunzel, RapunzelIf you sing...6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let down your golden hair,
whose strands and locks
can trap the sun.
From your tower, so high up
you look upon the ground
and so the hair descends
to cover what it can.
What is happening to you?
Your hair is thinning ...
The luster is gone,
The gold is fading...
It's turning crimson red...
You are that thorny rose
Whose bloody petals fall to the ground
There's nothing but the pale white center exposed to the world
Is it really a lie that you are beautiful?
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, where has your true beauty gone?
You were never nothing, without your hair.
Oh So BlessedI'm In love and I'm in pain.Oh So Blessed5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Other than that, I can't complain
So forgive me and forget,
But please don't act like we've just met,
Cause when i open my mouth
All my fears head south.
Dreams from my mouth
And words in my head,
Dont work out in the air,
Where the fairies are flying.
I cry them all to bed.
Baby, stop crawling start walking.
Baby, stop bawling start talking.
Baby, put all your scares to rest.
But Baby, dont fail your tests,
Cause when your head is just a mess.
You'll see that you're oh so blessed.
:: Fear ::Fear to love.:: Fear ::6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fear to see.
What will become of me?
InvisibleWhat if I were invisible?Invisible6 years ago in Emotional More Like This
What a ridiculous question. I am invisible. Not in the way you're thinking of - yes, you can see me, I don't have superpowers, but do you actually see me? Or do you just see a normal girl? Even worse, do you see a lazy slob who lounges around the house all day, scrounging off the government, in the lap of luxury?
I may not be invisible, but a huge part of what makes me me is. Although I wholeheartedly agree with what has been said before me by countless others - I am not my illness - it still plays a huge role in making me me.
It impacts upon the way I look, not just needing glasses and wearing odd splints and tubigrips when I need to (and in the future, using a wheelchair), but the way I actually look. It affects my weight, my height, and my skin. Without my illness, I would not look the same. Yet no stranger looking at me would think I was anything but a healthy young adult.
There is no Title HereWho are you?There is no Title Here6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Please stop this, I'm frightened.
You are not the one who keeps me close.
These words sicken me.
I will bear these secrets forever.
You cannot be the same one who strokes my hair...
I feel so numb inside.
You're scaring me, please-
How can you be the one who vows to protect me?
Your smile is twisted yet tender.
Flinch at your touch
Surprisingly gentle yet firm
You are the same one who sang me to sleep
OutlinesOutlines6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
This cant work.
That much was obvious. Of course, she had avoided verbalizing that thought for some time now; she preferred to let it exist on its own, hovering just out of reach. She grabbed it now, let it bleed in her hand, showed him the carcass.
What do you mean? Noah glanced up at her, brow furrowed.
Diana sighed and flexed her hands nervously. You shouldnt even be here.
This, too, was obvious. For starters, Noah had skipped another important meeting, the fifth one this month, to make the long trek to the Outlines, just to see her, he said. Hed shown up on her doorstep mere minutes earlier, wearing that ragged, beautiful smile and a fresh cut on his lip. Shed closed her eyes and tried not to think about who might have given it to him, or why, or how many more chances theyd give him to learn a lesson. The bruise around his eye was fading a bit, but it was still disconcertingly raw, stark and vivid against his pale sk
Inelegant.Words, she said,Inelegant.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that can be forgotten
Should you abandon me
for pretty words and
ribbons and pearls
you will find your heart
left in a brown paper bag
out in the rain
where only the mold
and the mud is your friend
before the end.
Should you stand
with everything to lose
and nothing to gain
your hand in mine,
we will build gilded palaces
of florescent jewels
and fairy tales
(that always end
We will make our own magic.
I will make my own.
Skin DeepShe is beautiful, in a ruined way. Her eyes are wide and wet, bright blue made brighter by the cherry stain of burst blood vessels. Her skin is milky white, her lips are rosy red. She is thin, like an elegant skeleton, an insectiod humanoid crawling through the narrow tunnel of passer-by's vision, uncanny and enthralling. Tangled, matted hair and a rasping, broken voice turn her into a fantasy. She was a queen, in another life, and now she is all that is lovely, thrown away, gone to waste. But this is what makes her a heroine, a shining beacon of urban myth become truth become legend, beckoning in all her glory as she stands on the corner.Skin Deep5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her beauty is what makes me open my car door as she smiles broken teeth at me, inviting. Her's is a world I want to know, and anticipation of the sweet taste of it makes my breath come fast as she slides carefully, carelessly onto the smooth leather of my passenger seat. With movements quick and halting, she turns to face me, dilated pupils flaring w
untitled.i just can't bring myself to seeuntitled.6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
you're the person you told me you'd never be
i try to see it a different way
but i'm reminded everyday
that you're not who i thought
no, you're quite changed
i don't know why i fought
to have you, to make things go my way
but know that i loved you, though just for a short while
and i'll never forget the way you made me smile
The Lonely DanceA room of endless dark,The Lonely Dance6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the air so heavy,
Surrounded by unknown mysteries;
such hungry eyes.
The music and the sway of soft limbs begging for touch.
The song thrums across the floor.
The dance floor an abused heart,
Something inside us all awakens alive and wild;
the distinction between us and other mammals grows thin.
They push their bodies together needing to feel connected,
the dancers all searching for something,
they do not know the name but they find it,
at least for tonight.
Their bodies ache, just a sip is all they need,
at least that's what they believe.
Eyes search out their nightly fix, they head to quiet places.
Desperate nails digging into flesh, a gasp,
A content sigh, they are sated but it will again sprout and grow when the
morning sun lights upon the newly planted seed in their emotional desert.
My eyes travel across the room,
hands reach up like flowers towards the sun;
a girl stands alone she's the piece that doesn't fit.
Such sad eyes d
A Million Tiny LightsHer eyes are his stars, he thinks. Her eyes are his stars, her voice his soft breeze and her hair a calm river of blues and yellows.A Million Tiny Lights6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She's there to listen, most times. He's okay when she spends her time yelling about how puny men have no use to her. Or when she is yelling about how puny men provide endless amusement to her. Regardless, he is okay with her lack of an inside voice.
Sometimes she likes to hurt him. At first he thought it was a custom, or an indulgence in human sexual fetishes- but soon learned that she was just quick to anger, nothing more.
He was okay with that too.
They watch the stars sometimes. He's not allowed to talk, but he's not allowed to leave either. So he counts the million tiny lights, never quite finishing in the eternity they are there.
One night he turns to her. He thinks her eyes are his stars and her voice his soft breeze. He watches her try to ignore his gaze, and musters up the courage to speak.
"How do you say 'I love you' in your language?" he asks,
Quit Childhood14 girl is out tonightQuit Childhood6 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Her hair is done, her skin is white.
She'd like to get what's wrong, what's right
But this is her first night out.
She look self-assured but she's scared
She'd like to shout but nobody cares
No wonder why she'll end up hurt
Lost in lust, drugs and sweat.
After 3 Vodaks, she's drunk has hell
She barely stands on her heels
She can't recognize what's wrong, what's real
She really lost her sex-appeal.
But there's that taste on her lips
She won't even protest or scream
Someone is taking her by the hips
Has she passed out in her dreams.
And it's morning, 4 A.M.
She's wondering lonely with a headache.
Her hair is messy, her skin is pink:
She's walking here feeling weak.
She's crying what she has lost
To take it, she'd pay any cost.
She's dreaming of killing the enemy:
The guy who took her virginity.
Some are LakesHe was poorly put together with duct tape on his shoes. He told me nothing and only sung the blues. He gave me bloody knuckles instead of bouquets.Some are Lakes6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We'd sit outside, guitar case catching dust instead of coins. The hum of the laundry mat always resounding in our ears and puddles of rainbow oil at our feet.
I'd draw chalk drawings into the brick in a faulty attempt to make those days last. This morning I woke up like every other morning. Warm with my center chewed out.
I let myself get carried away by your words; those lovely lies you told me. You became a god and I became a slave. My dreams swallowed down as you raped my throat.
Moths took nest in my lungs and vodka in my stomach. I felt more like a birdcage than anything those evenings. Lost at sea and sick from riding your waves.
Everything blended together in a watercolor hurricane. On the tip of my tongue and into my melted mind. Acid trips aren't like how you described; just another pretty lie
We rode rusted bikes deep into the