SilhouetteI composed a thousand poems in my head tonightSilhouette in Free Verse More Like This
as the twilight glows faded and evenings shadow grew.
It seemed the time passed slowly as my mind pictures flew,
every lingering moment cemented in lexis;
my thoughts wrapped up in you.
The brevity of time is offensive
as words tumble about in my brain.
Restless eyes closed but seeing still,
I compose and write and rhyme my pain
until sleep spreads a less than tranquil stain.
While slumber is toiling about in my memories
I will do my best to bring forth forget,
a cold, dark and painless shroud.
No mysterious antidote, but a freeing net-
erasing everything except your blank shadowy silhouette.
DesirousDesirousDesirous in Free Verse More Like This
enveloping and preserving, we
fall into an endless age of
and stars that blind
behind closed eyes.
a great gulf churns,
filled with a cacophony of our secrets,
needs and desires separating the press of today from
and your dark eyes that bind me.
Like A Mirror.
the sweetest sighs
layered upon, drenched within and
my soft skin
with your rough hands and resonant voice-
hearing my heart's desire through the shroud of this surface.
See. Behold. Embrace. Entwine.
PhobetorI rest in sleepPhobetor in Free Verse More Like This
when he enters and
hovers beside me.
surveying my sleeping form
his soft visual caress takes in my bare feet
peeking out from under the blanket.
his all seeing gaze notes
my naked legs cozy under the covers.
he glides up the bed
a sense of anticipation gathering;
he licks his devilish lips.
my dark unbound hair dresses the pillow
and he leans in close to inhale its
warm coconut scent.
my eyes begin to dart rapidly
beneath my closed lids and he
his imperceptible icy fingers drift
along the line between my breasts
up the warmth of my vulnerable throat
touching the point of my chin and moving to
the soft skin of my lips.
his palm settles there while his fingers
wind their way around my freckled nose.
Ruthless [persistent]Ruthless in Free Verse More Like This
words flood a fire in my synapses
forming sentences, shapes, ideas
it is a barrage,
wild and unruly,
Worn Empathyyou and I have a bit of a problem.Worn Empathy in Free Verse More Like This
I think you might be in the dark about a few things
why don't I shed a little light.
you crave my kindness, my clever words, you ask for more
and yet you return them with a sardonic slap
why? (rhetorical question here, please don't bother answering.)
are you so skeptical of a kindness that you request
that you give in to your fear and strike to hurt?
let me tell you a tiny trifling little secret you can't hurt me.
(I said that very slowly and with a modest amount of sneering venom.)
because guess what, little one?
I have looked evil in the eye, I have had its stinking form cover me
once upon a time I tasted betrayal drenched in words of love
and even worse, I lost blood of my blood before she ever felt my kiss.
there are scars upon this self, this soul, that will never make it to paper
and yet still-
I can reach inside and hovering close to the surface of my being
is a deep well of compassion and love that never see
Rock SkipperI have an affinity for water. It soothes my soul somehow, makes me feel safe. It entices, bewitches and beguiles. In the quiet, when the water is smooth as glass, it pleads a silent invitation. The endless stillness calls to me, begging for something. I have been called like this since I was a child and there was only one consistent solution.Rock Skipper in Philosophical More Like This
Rocks. Now, I am a great skipper of rocks.
There is something about walking along the shore, searching for beautifully flat rocks. The joy of the hunt, the thrill of such a simple chase is magic. My eyes scan and peruse the tan sand grains, searching for perfectly flat-sided rocks. Running constantly in the back of my mind is the thought of beating my record of eight skips. I accept or reject on that basis. The water invites, the wind whispers. I stoop and smile, sandy fingers searching, while dark hair flies around my eyes.
One thought persists: all I need is one flat side. Color matters not, size matters not (not really, I'm that good of
Recollectionyou are mystery,Recollection in Free Verse More Like This
slipping through my fingers;
I had you once, didn't I?
Your favourite colorShe asked him what his favorite color was, and he replied "magic".Your favourite color in Philosophical More Like This
"Truly?" she replied, with a quizzical look upon her face.
She pondered this idea for a few moments, circling round and round the idea of the color of magic. Images spoke quietly in her mind and she had an imaginary conversation with him in return. It went something like this:
"There are many colors in the world, dear. Think of birds. Think of all the colors of imagination found in their sweet layers of tiny feathers. The Rainbow Lorikeet and Crimson Rosella have over half a dozen colors to choose from between them. A simple black bird, an owl, and even the Magpie showcase their beautiful colors magnificently. You still are set on magic? Humm
What about white? I don't think you have ever seen snow blanketed as far as the eye can see, blinding in its brilliance. Sometimes, dark bruising sh
A woman is missing.A woman is missing.A woman is missing. in Free Verse More Like This
My sweater is knit too loose and the wind blows through.
The leaves are done changing and are waiting to fall.
I think of them collaged against my morning-damp windshield;
they will mostly be red. My wipers will push them off;
I will forget about them. But inbetween these thoughts
my brain hums. A woman is missing and I cannot forget.
Two weeks ago the leaves were mostly green and yellow.
Two weeks ago a woman went missing.
I didn't know her but she went missing and today
I am standing at a wall covered with candles and
I am rolling her name over my tongue and I am thinking.
I am thinking and praying, but I am not hoping.
A woman went missing; a woman is missing.
I keep going to work, getting up each day.
I brush my teeth, comb my hair, pack my lunch, drive my car.
And mostly I do not think about her. But sometimes I do.
Sometimes the hairs on my neck stand up and the two blocks
between the library and the coffee shop are impossibly long.
Text Messages to No OneHey haven't talked to you in a while.Text Messages to No One in Letters More Like This
==>save message? y/n
I saw that you got
==>save message y/n
Its been a while.
Maybe we could hang out?
==>save message y/n
Wow, I cant believe it's been so long since we talked!
What happened, do you think? Lets talk and
I miss you.
==>save message y/n
Today I thought about that tree in your backyard.
And how we used to climb it to get on the roof of ur garage.
We had some good times.
==>save message y/n
I havent been up to much. Got a job, finally.
I feel all grown up and shit. Still a bit lonely here,
But I'm sure that'll change.
==>save message y/n
Thought about you again on my way home.
It's hard to keep track of all these messages.
Have I told you about my job? I don't remember.
It's cool. Boring. But c
Thought about u again on my way home
Its hard 2 keep trac
CutCutting,Cut in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I cut my self,
To keep my heart on its proper shelf
If I do this,
Nothing goes amiss.
I keep things inside,
Long ago the love inside me died.
My emotions shown are few.
I will pay my dues.
Make everyone think I'm fine.
Make them feel I'm fine.
I watch the blood flow from my veins.
I stay locked away,
In my cell, in my chains.
All I see is darkness, I know no day.
I shed no tears,
I show no fears.
I've done this for years.
I am an actress.
Showing no distress.
My life is a stage,
The spotlight, tis a deathly cage.
I don't let them see
I'm a mess.
I show them what they want to see.
Who would dare?
I am alone.
BraveryOn Saturday the twenty-first of January, Elliot took a gun, pressed it to the strip of bone between his eyes, and shot himself. The bullet shattered the frontal bone of his skull, warping his features past recognition, and burrowed through his pre-frontal cortex into the midbrain. He died before the sound stopped echoing through his empty apartment.Bravery in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This story isn't about that.
I worked with Elliot for only a little while—less than six months. Most of what I knew about him came from his desk. Unlike the smaller ones the secretaries and other reporters had, it was a stately, imposing thing. It would've been terrifying, especially to a mousy little girl like me, but it was covered in paperweights and spare pens and pictures of people hunting ducks. Anyway, Elliot himself denied fear: he was middle-aged, poised on the cusp between forty and fifty. His hair had already turned grey, but he didn't dye it, like he hadn't noticed he was getting older or just didn't care. He smiled more t
Every YouTube Fight Ever(This will almost certainly contain heavy profanity and the usernames used in this were pulled out of my own head and aren't any real people that I know of but if someone has usernames matching them then it's probably coincidental).Every YouTube Fight Ever in Short Stories More Like This
SamusFan20 in the video description: This is my Metroid compilation of pictures in a slideshow featuring Samus set to Queen's "We Will Rock You." I hope you guys enjoy.
DisgruntledAsswipe87: Jesus Christ you're such a faggot. Why the hell would you post pics of a fictional girl and set it to Queen? Do yourself a favor and go get a REAL GIRLFRIEND, loser. Oh, and stop shaming such a great band with such a shitty video game and your BS imature antics at attempting to fap to it.
(In reply to DisgruntledAsswipe87) ConcernedStranger17: Hey, calm the fuck down, douchebag. If this person is so "immature," than what the hell are you doing on a video meant for a video game girl, anyway? I bet you were at home looking for something to fap to and found this and decide
Noticed in CommittingI started committing suicides. They were small at first, but more grandiose as the months passed.Noticed in Committing in Short Stories More Like This
At first, I came up with basics: wrist slashing, hanging, overdose, jumping off a building, and stepping off in front of bus. They were all very mundane, really, and if not done properly you just end up living very, very painfully. It was after those routine ways to snuff oneself that I began to get creative.
There was going into a biker bar nude and starting fights with drunk bikers. And when I say "fights", I mean with a knife in my hand. That was a fun night. Everyone was freaked out and angry at the same time. They all wanted to kill me, but they didn't want to touch me either. Eventually, though, they did.
Oh, another good one was sneaking into one of those giant dump trucks at a quarry and letting them dump tons of excavated rocks on me. The driver of the loader always sees you just as it's too late and tries to stop the load.
Etude du son "S"Le SommeilEtude du son "S" in Other More Like This
L'essence lancinante laissé par un ancien
passant délasse l'inconscient.
Sismologie cérébrale stimulé par cette douce sensation
Les personnes sentant, s''assoient comme absent
Elles se délectent de ce délice de senteurs.
Systématisant l'ascension ce stimuli fait s'entasser
Sans pas-sans les passants.
C'est la que sans prévention un des passants
pissant senti la source d'émission
de l'essence d'encens
Il se lance à la poursuite du semeur d'odeur
sans assistance au milieu de cet océan dépassant
les cents pas au large du passage.
Il suivit le Chemin du semeur suintant
Sans plus jamais cesser...
i have you bookmarked -vii. Sometimes breakfast, lunch and dinner were like art; food was flung from each corner, creating a futile canvas on every wall. I played a scale of musical doors as they slammed one by one. I'm sure I broke a fewi have you bookmarked - in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
vocalchords too. He was always right beside me, yet so far.
But we mingled together. When his hand gripped mine with his feathery touch, it seemed okay to pretend. Maybe my mind still needed to develop, needed watering. Or maybe together we just made feelings obsolete.
iv. And we did.
We sat on park benches blowing smoke kisses and watched movies, that only seemed good because everything else on TV was crap.
Bubblegum. Pot. Gallons of ice-cream. We fed two pigeons and named them Ben and Jerry. We danced to Genesis, even though we both knew that they were possibly the most overplayed band in the world-universe-all-shopping-centers-in-London-ever.
At night we slipped between the park gates and sat by the lake. It felt like the moon was right ne