You call it Judgement, We call it SinEmily needs the words to understand that she isn't being unreasonable. She just wants them to mean something and not be a string of words which flows into itself over and over again.You call it Judgement, We call it Sin in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She doesn't like her name either. Not because Emily isn't a pretty name but because she would rather be called something she feels like. (She has never quite forgiven her parents for choosing her name for her.) If she could, she would call herself Glass, because that is what she wakes up feeling like every morning. As if crystallised pieces of glass are edible and her insides tingle as she swallows them whole.
Emily lets the words call her names sometimes. She writes them on her knees so that she can remember them. Sometimes the words call her a whore, and sometimes stupid, and sometimes a loser and sometimes a tramp (She has never learnt that loving too much is a crime and boys with pretty eyes sometimes lie.). She sits in the bathroom with a pen the colour of blood and writes them carefully
UndeservedI don't deserve to be an artist.Undeserved in Free Verse More Like This
I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.
I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost.
I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.
I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.
I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world.
I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.
But I do think I am a writer.
I am completely, irreparably damaged.
I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.
I weep over my lost innocence.
I spend nights wishing for skin against my own
I long for insomnia to inspire me.
I beg for worlds to collide so I can breathe.
So am I writer really?
Or just another misguided artist?
Constructive Criticism"Tell me what you think."Constructive Criticism in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Of the poem?"
"No, of my face. Yes, the poem."
"I was going to say, because your face is just stupid."
"Very funny. Read."
"What did you think?"
"Why did you write this?"
"I wrote it for you."
"You make me self conscious when you say things like that."
"I'm not worth this you know."
"What does that mean?"
"I am half a girl, and I deserve half a poem."
"That is not true, and you still haven't told me what you really thought about it."
"It's as broken and complex and half hearted as a sad song about the way you feel ink trail between your fingers like it's blood. There is no reason for it, it's the kind of beautiful that is there just for being there. It happened, it's a moment in time forever frozen and to be remembered in a way that candles that burn in holy places should be. It's a forever, all by itself- Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because you believe you deserve half a poem."
"I do. I am too damaged and broken an
Body Speak, Mouth Don't."I need a favour. You got a minute?"Body Speak, Mouth Don't. in Free Verse More Like This
No. No I don't.
My heart feels ripped out of my chest and trampled on too often.
My ears open to screams in the morning.
My eyes close crying every night.
My mind always turns dreams into nightmares.
My lungs contract too soon for me to catch my breath.
My worries far outweigh my years.
My brain feels overworked, overwrought, so tired.
My stomach cramps every night and I curl up in pain.
My knees weaken often but I'm still standing.
My mouth goes dry and I can't speak.
My hands dampen because I have too much to think about.
My bones feel weaker than they ever have before.
But I don't think it's anything to be worried about, really.
"Sure. How can I help you?"
Seventeen (In Phases)1.Seventeen (In Phases) in Emotional More Like This
It was because her parents had named her for the grandmother who had broken her mother’s heart. The grandmother whose heart was supposed to have melted from her birth and hadn’t.
That was why her mother barely looked at her. That was why she called her ‘girl’.
That was why she liked to pretend she was the quiet woman in the background of an old black and white movie. Because everything here was like an old black and white movie.
[And if she really looked back, her mother had never appreciated the elegance of the 1950s enough.]
It was because she hated surprises. The surprise she got on her sixth birthday when her father left taught her just how a single person had the ability of taking your soul, splitting it in two and wearing it on their breast pocket like a white carnation waiting to die.
That was why when she lifted a book, she looked at the last page first.
That was why her namelessness had become a comfort to her.
That was why sh
Photography Feature!All right guys! I promised a photography feature last week, but I got a bit delayed. Here it is!Photography Feature! in Personal More Like This
effulgence 10 by ~VertigineuxVegetablebreaking down by =jonesblachowiczin the dark by =jonesblachowiczLove locks by ~PhandagartUp by ~Phandagart:thumb268500631::thumb314929395:We Lay Old and Forgotten by ~emirasmussenHookah by ~emirasmussenConcentration, Determination by ~emirasmussenDreamscape - Color Version by ~Botanical-Raemad_world by ~j4d3L amour dechire by ~j4d3Seagulls by =VargsonTrees of white by =VargsonASB by ~DylanHopeFriction by ~Katzilla13Poppy Sunset by ~Katzilla13Living Jewel by *NicoFroehbergIn Dreams... by *NicoFroehbergWonderland by ~WildPencilRed Manatis by ~WildPencilFrosty Flake I by *PhotopathicaSunset Silhouette I by *PhotopathicaWatched by *Photopathica#20 by ~TinyUnlovedDetails#1 by ~TinyUnlovedDetailsLike a Painting by ~BittersueszFreedom of Choice by ~Bittersueszview from my window by ~dunkle-melodieSkull 1.1 by ~ArtofGarethJohnsonMe and my Daisy by =divaficaDeep Diver by =tuftedpuffinrainbow by ~adrkrist:thumb313056216:Tears in heaven by *senelethRiver flows in you I by *seneleth.Wilderness by ~niamh-ellen.Elevator Love Letter by ~niamh-ellenI want to fly by ~Like-A-KittyGrowing In The Light by ~Like-A-KittyOne Match by ~ahedrick201Core Skies by ~ahedrick201Tired by ~PinkBlob93Fishing Rod by ~PinkBlob93L'ombre d'un reve by *Fant0me:thumb25
How did you get those scars?And I asked her,How did you get those scars? in Free Verse More Like This
"Do you remember
why I counted tiles-
sat in silence for hours,
wishing on the black holes
in my pockets?"
Stuttering against quiet delusions,
She bit a vintage tongue.
I tried to bury myself alive that night,
just to engrave the taste of rose thorn monsters
between the cracks of my glass skin."
Licking dry lips,
She asked to taste them.
August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,August Lover, in Free Verse More Like This
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
fly.this is hard for the world around us to grasp:fly. in Free Verse More Like This
these wildfires raging in our retinas
& the sins we wear like demonic similes
on our tongues- they are not enough.
& i am so fucking sorry of saying i'm sorry.
but, tell me,
what is a young poet(ess) to do
with veins made of kite strings?
Collection of poetic nothings.We were opal Tuesdays,Collection of poetic nothings. in Free Verse More Like This
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,
gliding me through this wild youth.
But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings
touched the sun.
My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.
"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.
"Learn to love yourself."
How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?
"I want to replace my heart with you."
You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
limbs traveling this road map
of songbird sin.
You are not just in my head now,
you are dancing in the lingering stars
of my night-witch frame
& setting me on fire.
You're not bruised enough
to write poetry.
Allow these bones to tell your story, Love.
It tastes like love.I could speak of her in riddles,It tastes like love. in Free Verse More Like This
in aged, anatomy textbook terminology-
but, I wont.
You see, I cuffed this angel to my bedpost.
I sank my teeth into feathers she wore like a cage
and asked if I was dreaming, because Love,
you're not holding me. If you only knew the you in my head,
every night--tearing with these heavenly fingers
at the cracks in my sanity- you would allow me this!
Her tongue tastes my tears; nails clawing, clawing, clawing-
she takes away my pain,
but she doesn't belong to me either.
"We are but wolves.
Tell me, what does my blood taste like?"
Bones mend, but tell no lies.You have cataloged your scarsBones mend, but tell no lies. in Free Verse More Like This
like your body is a library-
to be read through &
You think of
all the little boys
whose greedy fingers
You are angry-
cared for you
They left you
on a shelf
to gather dust.
should you ever
Borderline Personality DisorderPeople with BPD often have an unstable sense of who they are. That is, their self-image or sense of self often rapidly changes. They typically view themselves as evil or bad, and sometimes they may feel as if they don't exist at all. This unstable self-image can lead to frequent changes in jobs, friendships, goals, values and gender identity.Borderline Personality Disorder in Personal More Like This
Relationships are usually in turmoil. People with BPD often experience a love-hate relationship with others. They may idealize someone one moment and then abruptly and dramatically shift to fury and hate over perceived slights or even misunderstandings. This is because people with the disorder have difficulty accepting gray areas things are either black or white. For instance, in the eyes of a person with BPD, someone is either good or evil. And that same person may be good one day and evil the next.
In addition, people with BPD often engage in impulsive and risky behavior. This behavior often winds up hurting them, whether emotionally, fin
The other As I walk into the room it gets colderThe other in Free Verse More Like This
A weary eye as I look over my shoulder
Slowly turn to face it, fears unwound.
It's steps back, never making a sound.
"Strangely enough, I think I've seen you before"
The room left empty, you as if you were never there.
In perpetual melancholy, amusement is rare.
Two sides to my brain, neither one I can spare.
I have demons in my head
and scars that cover my heart
I see you in a new light,
something I thought I could never do.
Weep, in fact, beg.
What you want most is that you can never have.
Absent minded to the point of despair.
Completely blinded, I know you don't care.
Vanquished to the point of insanity
I know who I may be
but who are you?
Copyright © 2011, MysticSilverMoon.
All rights reserved.
Shirtless/olympic/sick/mall/housesSo I havn't writen a journal in awhile, I guess i should fling my random life details at you.Shirtless/olympic/sick/mall/houses in Personal More Like This
One. We are getting new people living beside us.. And they are hella loud. The past few days they have been banging and pushing stuff around.
Pf AND TODAY i was sitting outside in the front on my phone keeping to myself when they brought their big truck up to unload stuff. This random shirtless guy was helping with the moving (most likely the dads son) and he saw me then smiled and waved.... very awkwardly long.
in my mind: "um? .... da fuq son do know you"
So that was kinda weird...
OR I'm just socially awkward and don't understand people just being friendly.... or it actually was just him being a creeper/
And yup the Olympics.....
Yay i've been watching them, and saw the opening. (ITWASAMAZING FU)
me and mah gurl gonna get shit at the mull.
LOL NO THATS AWFUL.
But actually me and Kaden are going mall.
I took the 'safe' off my google on my phone. living on the ed
MiraclesI know what it's like to want to dieMiracles in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
to lay down and want to say goodbye
I know what it's like to feel nothing but pain
to look at my wrist and aim for the vein
I know what it's like to be miserable at best
to sleep for days because I'm so damn depressed
I know what it's like to quiver in fear
to see a world that is ugly and unclear
I never thought I could be content
to see myself and to reinvent
I never thought I could see beyond
to feel again and to respond
I never thought I could forgive my past
to live as if it could be surpassed
I never thought I could even survive
to take this deadened life and revive
I'm the person that shows others miracles do exist
I've stuck to my game, I've continued to persist
Making a life that is worth living is hard
But one step at a time you can heal the scarred