Into the PlungeBuild me a
sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.
24 Hoursi.24 Hours in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Dreams will slowly fade
as dawn breaks through the windows;
morning’s here again.
Stomachs growl and groan
as smells from the kitchen waft;
afternoon is here.
Dusk paints a red sky,
the sun retires for the night;
evening shall bring peace.
The stars and moon dance,
a waltz of shining passion;
night has come at last.
For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,For You in Free Verse More Like This
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.
The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.
These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
as long as you know their universes.
Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.
You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words shall turn
heartstrings to gold.
Freedom is the only chain you must break in half,
life is the only prison you must escape from,
and the truth is the only lie you must forget.
Vengeful phantoms in a corporeal form walk the earth;
humanity will spite you for you let
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesWhisper in Free Verse More Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
They say beauty is only skin deep,so hand over that defected scalpel in your bloodless handsThey say beauty is only skin deep, in Free Verse More Like This
and watch carefully as I peel away this tainted skin
to make way for my blackened and corrupted
And everyone can finally see
the grotesque monster that lies deep within
this soiled excuse they seem to enjoy calling
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
then why is it that I can't stand
gazing upon my reflection
every time I pass by a mirror?
lost.Wandering,lost. in Free Verse More Like This
waiting for your voice to
reach out for mine.
Fingertips of satin,
caressing the confines of my
whispering a thousand constellations to my waning sanity.
Promises upon promises,
mosaic labyrinths etched into mutilated
Trembling lips — July's blasphemous sun
lingering above December's intangible moon,
and these looking-glass limbs scream for your
tongue to shatter me into one million
Rose eyelashes; iron thorns and liquid petals
flutter open to the dull luster of our
and in the end, your nebula fades away
in the disintegrating morning, just like my [heart] broken
HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,Hellfire in Free Verse More Like This
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."
She hides behind an ivory mask,
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.
Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.
For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a throne sewn from the blistering skin of her enemies and
wearing a crown of brambles and tears and seeds born of pandemonium—
Her soul's true colors will shine at last: her mind and body nothing but
kindle for the overdue vengeance of her ravenous
Poetry is:Poetry is:Poetry is: in Free Verse More Like This
the adhesive to
a fragmented soul;
broken wings that still dream of
F L Y I N G
how snapdragons breathe stardust
and orchids perform ensembles.
when 'imagination' and 'reality' at last discover a
c r o s s r o a d s,
and rush to embrace one another with fervent limbs.
why gravity seems to f
l, taking the world with it.
what flows through the veins of every pair of [shipwrecked; star-crossed] lovers.
who I am; who I was; and who I want to be.
Remedial OppositionCease with making promises that you cannot ever keep—Remedial Opposition in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
can you not see this loathing becoming even more deep?
Halt in your useless words of comfort, telling me everything will be okay—
how can you say such things so simply, when you are never here day by day?
Refrain from acting as if you can turn my world from bleak to bright—
when was the last time you truly changed every wrong thing to right?
It was such a simple pleasure, back in those days;
just one word from you made gold from the grays.
A luxury it was, I now see that more clear than glass;
for those times are done and gone, having long since passed.
Indulgence was my sin whenever thoughts of you jolted through my brain;
it is a laughing matter at how correspondence with you now causes me pain.
You say you want to help me, you say nothing will ever be my fault...
but is that true, when you regret my slow change from child to adult?
You know I tried my damnedest to continue being your best friend...
but what is t
NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heartNecromancy in Free Verse More Like This
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
dug your bloodstained claws into your
and tore out that infestation you called a
"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
I could only watch as you sunk back down into
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
knowing you had replaced my heart with the poison known as
'l o v e.'
.I stare at the screen, waiting for some burst of inspiration to rain upon me like a meteor shower sent straight from the gods of literature heaven.. in Emotional More Like This
A sigh escapes my lips, and I haphazardly bash random buttons of the keyboard, watching as the blank document before me is littered with an incoherent placement of characters. The monotone click-clack seems to just resonate with the narcoleptic beating of my heart, further fueling my senseless crusade.
Where has all my writing gone?
It feels like it was just sucked right out of my soul. Ideas constantly plague my mind, yet all I can do is write them down. When I go to type them out, nothing happens. And then, just as quickly as my urge to write appears, it is gone in a flash—and all I can do is slump forward and hope that maybe next week I'll get something productive done.
My fingers halt in their endless assault of the keyboard, and my eyes slide up to scan the nonsense I've created on the bright screen. It's n
The rule of nines.I know more about half-moon palmsThe rule of nines. in Free Verse More Like This
than most know about
the kind that beg dandelion child,
I know about forged castle ribs & broken homes.
Myths that are half fact & imaginary friend
turned bogieman -
Fangs that tear clear through ice-bone hearts
like they are nothing but pretty paper
to be folded over, again & again & again
by the hands of quivering youths:
Icarus, the reincarnated
sky conqueror searching for warmth.
I am trying to be honest,but I write so fucking floweryI am trying to be honest, in Free Verse More Like This
it makes me sick,
rose scented stars & love.
Her: helpless as a lamb,
I want raw, aching
bone against bone
exploring the exposed, naked
poetry of her universe-
( warm, celestial hands
forging sandcastle ribs. )
Southern earth beneath her feet,
wanderlust burned like Apollo's touch
into her spinal cord, please awaken
the empty space between her skin
WillowYour confessional arms are Willow trees,Willow in Free Verse More Like This
draping lonely limbs around an empty ink-jar heart.
Scars worn down like henna tattoos.
A night witch scrawling her incantations on blue moons,
rolling her letters into sentences like a curse.
But, it is in these coffee eyes you have found a home.
dust.I'm chokingdust. in Free Verse More Like This
on the ink-dipped fingers
of verbs & metaphors
still lodged in this bruised,
paper crane throat;
of your words,
still kissing my ribs.
How can you judge me-
when you don't bother
to read the naked poetry
beneath the temple of my flesh?
How long can butterfly
ankles hold up a
Don't bother whispering
your secrets to nebulae,
not even the dust in my veins
will listen anymore.
I want to forget names,& faces,I want to forget names, in Free Verse More Like This
I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.
Spine full, and spiteful:
I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.
I want to cry for her
& for me.
she wont allow me the courtesy.
Show me what the stars look like tonight.I’ve fallen in love with wars & darkness.Show me what the stars look like tonight. in Free Verse More Like This
The kind of darkness said to have made
shadow monsters of seen-too-much eyes
& the kind of war lands made of
desecrated, dandelion wrists.
I am the wind, the morphine pump
& I’ve carved my bones into stars.
I wear them around my neck
like outward sun marrow
warming my carotid pulse.
These little glow-in-the-dark blankets
aren’t enough to stifle the sounds;
but my anatomy never seemed to fit
together the right way anyway.
FrostI am devouring chaos,Frost in Free Verse More Like This
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.
When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?
HeroineSometimes,Heroine in Free Verse More Like This
she tries to fall into the night,
tipping her strawberry heart
like a tea bag into hot waters-
always scolding herself
kissing ocean beds.
Her hips, tides rolling
towards the antagonists
of myths & legends.
with a thousand leagues
of sea behind her eyes,
she will always save herself.
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
GravityGravity,Gravity in Free Verse More Like This
Autumn wanted to learn
So, the galaxy of dead trees
coiling in your lungs
devoured her spine.
a lifeline wrapped around
her neck like a noose;
an orange and red
& you said "God bless your
heart." like some divine
higher power could forgive
her for loving you.
drug skin boy.there was oncedrug skin boy. in Free Verse More Like This
a boy with
sativa eyes and a
well, that loose
grin and coy tongued kid
one mistake: he
fell in love with the
and his pupils
bruned up, and he
cried that she
he came around with
slit wrists and a
prozac tone, in some place
where he sees no
to him, the
planet stricken boy,
i whisper that she
"that's the same
here is my heart, and here is my home.i am done writing abouthere is my heart, and here is my home. in Free Verse More Like This
you can find me
in the "new beginnings"
isle, splashed with scar tissue and
dear child, open your
there are stars, a galaxy, and
there is breath in your lungs.
the past is never
you have lived through it,
swam through it and
maybe died a little
through it, but you
came out on top.
when this winter ends, it
will end harshly;
but spring comes every year,
and i hope that you
i hope you open your eyes
to rain and i hope
that you fall in love with
it, and i hope
that you let life move
like i had to.
jesse owens, the boy who never died.my best friend's name isjesse owens, the boy who never died. in Free Verse More Like This
after the fastest man in
i think his name has
a sort of ring
"Jesse Owens, the boy
who can race the
and my Jesse Owens,
my lightning boy, he
has eyes like the sidewalk
if you don't know what that
looks like, or what that
feels like, then i
don't know what to tell you.
we used to race home from
buzzing bees behind our
fly away hair, the soles
of his shoes hit the
sidewalk like little
bombs: taptap taptap
if i listen hard
enough, i can always hear
Jesse Owens pounding through the
town. i hear him
in the quiet right before the
sun rises, frayed
shoelaces nipping at
but now he goes shooting straight
past my house, and we
don't run home from
school. see, my
Jesse Owens ran himself right
into a bullet,
which he swallowed better than
the pills his doctor gave
we got lost in nowhere.to the soulfulwe got lost in nowhere. in Free Verse More Like This
paper lipped boy
who got torn apart
by nobody but
i didn't want you
to drown in
earth; we both know
you fit the sky
you were never one
for choking on
dirt-- but now
you're stuck somewhere
hacking out maple tree
roots and wishing
to be saturn's ring
and i am still as stone:
lost in cornfields and
almost in love, with
in my ribcage where
you used to sit, a half pack
of Newports and the moon
in your veins.
the great untitled.an introduction to the in betweens and tight lip lies.the great untitled. in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
i.- the whorish age.
i was born
young, but i think
i've somehow always been
seventeen. that's really
the most impossibly
here you are,
stuck in the middle of
adulthood- god, seventeen
is such a fucking
tease. it's all the
want, and none
of the get, none
ii.- the epitome of in betweens.
maybe it's just
me. after all, i am constantly
grasping at the
in betweens. i live
on 'maybe's and 'perhaps's, feast on
what i breathe.
the worst one, to
me, is 11:49
p.m.; it's almost
a new day, but it's just
11 minutes away. it's
in between yesterday and
tomorrow. i wonder if
11:49 p.m. is
lonely. i wonder if
it can feel the buzz of
nothingness, the hum of everything it
i wonder if i
am 11:49 p.m., because i am
drowning in the things
i have yet to
iii.- the ty
now.i was the the girl stucknow. in Free Verse More Like This
between the pages of books
i'd never read and
half in love with people
i'd never met.
and you were the boy
who asked me if i
liked the sun--
nervous, palms tingling, i
almost told you that i
,the thing they forgot to mention, in Free Verse More Like This
about being a writer
is that we all live the longest
and die the fastest.
we feast on metaphors
with numb fingers and hearts
until we crawl under a half moon to sleep
and just don't wake up,
because everything we are
is arranged in our work
and we start to become
everything we've written about,
slowly but surely.
and now i'm not so sure
if i want to be a poet.
i just know
that i want to be a writer.
neshamah.apollo's misstep.neshamah. in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
look at your clock. it's tomorrow. all the seconds and minutes of yesterday are gone, disintegrated with the window dust. 12:00 a.m.; re birth.
i've always had this theory that in between 11:59 p.m. and 12:00 a.m., there's this vast ticking of nothingness that hovers between the minutes. just for a second, you are nowhere. the day is both finished and regenerating, and that's sort of magical. i always think that apollo falters, just for a second, as he puts the moon away, tucked neatly in his teeth.
born in a typewriter.
i can never think of how to start anything. the point, of course, is to grab the reader's attention before they become bored with your work and leave, and i don't know if i can do that. i am afraid i cannot ever begin to tell you all of my story.
if i were to be chronological, i would start with telling you when i began to write. but, 1: i am never
hello hello.she asks mehello hello. in Free Verse More Like This
to be careful, to
but i am sixteen
and restless, caught up
in the past love
for a boy 4 years older than
me and choking
on my could-be-love
for a girl that i met
let's face it: i
am a fucking mess.
see, but there's something
that nobody ever realizes
i'm almost seventeen now,
and i have come to the
that we live to learn.
we are not born
spitting out symphonies or
catching birds in our
we are born crying,
bloody and unable to comprehend
why we're here;
we remain that way for decades.
we do not grow up
when we're eighteen.
we grow up
when we see our parents fight and
when we watch our best friends
slowly spiral into
depression and drug
and we grow up when we realize
that we do not love someone
because they exist;
we love them
for how they exist,
and i realized that when i
almost fell in love with
we're legal murderers.how to love a writer:we're legal murderers. in Free Verse More Like This
will turn your passion
into works of extended metaphors
for death and decay,
slipping you scars
served sunny-side-up because,
hey, we all want to be
writers want someone, anyone
(usually the wrong one,
because pain sells more than
to try and pour cement
into the dents inside them
until they realize that they're really just
located in the wrong side of town
that cannot be repaired.
that is what we do.
we break people
for a living.
relearning i. stardust scatters with therelearning in Free Verse More Like This
direction of my pupils –
maybe secretly i am an
astrology teacher, waiting
for a sign to wink
happily at me.
ii. excuse the rambling
nature of forgotten question
marks, but tell me:
would you like to be the
object of handwritten clichés
would you like to whisper
secrets in my palm
and would you
like to be the possibility
iii. air brushes against my
skin like the torn petals
of a flower still standing.
[ hold your head up high, honey,
and tell tomorrow to wait just
iv. so you can figure out
the difference between
patience and having all the
time in the world. ]
v. stardust glitters from the
creases of my hands.
perhaps i am not the teacher
but the pupil,
relearning how brilliant
stars can shine.
the last note I. do you hear them the last note in Free Verse More Like This
the flapping of their
fragile wings? caught in
the folds of forgetfulness
and futile attempts of
the air remains hollow
a faded photograph
of what once was filled
of colour and so,
the grey fog of melancholy
II. do they hide
when the wind
howls like an anguished
mother with no child,
and the heavy storm
with haunting moans of
silence blankets a heaving
world do you tilt you head when
you notice the absence
of their beat-beat-beating
wings? the leaves
are soaked with
yesterday's heated emotions
the happenings of
and they bow under
the weight of gloom.
III. do they burrow
when their wings
another fix, pleasethat feeling of reliefanother fix, please in Free Verse More Like This
in darkened days
with hollow eyes and broken gazes,
floods my skin like taut stares,
the key snapping blurry worlds
I dissolve, scars upon scars,
building tales of months
pain bleeding outside borders
only blissful addiction.
[ breathing monitored,
as watched as I am ]
confusion, hazy like counting
for that feeling in freedom,
perfection comes in blood
and agony, for searching
out hungry addiction.
out searching for agony
in comes perfection,
waiting for freedom in
for backwards counting like hazy
[ am I
as watched as
monitored breathing? ]
only borders outside bleeding
pain and forgotten
months of tales building
scars upon scars. dissolve.
I focus into worlds
key the uncomfortable stares,
taut like skin.
my floods &
dreamergirlThe Last Time I saw you,dreamergirl in Free Verse More Like This
you were down in the dirt,
[literally] on hands and knees,
looking for the bit of magic
your father had promised was toiling
just underneath the surface.
You feel it, you whispered in
a cotton hush like the vibrancy
of your voice would intimidate the
dreams you scraped at beneath the
faultlines. Daddy never told a lie
[excluding the usual good things
come to those who wait, and 'tis better
to have loved and lost, and every end
is a new beginning]. You feel it,
you whispered, trembling at the hands
the same way you did for the Pills
that couldn't quite fix the Problem.
I never really understood all the ways
you crumbled. Ours was only
a simple appreciation, the kind
you see in dog-eared romance novels
and time-old photographs but never
real living people. And The Night
you swore to me you loved everyone
in the world, imperfections and
jaded natures and judging eyes and all,
for the simple fact they were alive,
I called you crazy. You said
they were impossible
in which I gain sentiencesave roomin which I gain sentience in Free Verse More Like This
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
CountedI am a number.Counted in Free Verse More Like This
twenty times I broke, fourteen times I lied, six pieces of my heart lent
goodbye, two times I didn't want to make it, one failure
and countless broken things;
infinite words abandoned trembling and lonely and cold.
I'm so cold and it's spring and the ground is alive to make up
for the mistakes I bury; the cherry blossoms are wilting
black, drooping so low to the ground that it is a blanket
as far as the eye can see:
fallen flowers die like starsick soldiers, begging please, oh,
please take me home so
I can leave on my own threshold and kiss the walls of
my own making and see my wife for a final time, please,
take me home where there are lullabies and nightlights
and bedside wishes; where the air isn't thick with the
scent of sinning men, oh god I'm sorry
that life is inevitability and the failure before me is as set
Lovebirds' Sorrowshe was the girl with catLovebirds' Sorrow in Free Verse More Like This
eyes: broad and judging and
carnal; he was the doe
with a broken collarbone,
yet she found herself lost in
the warmth of his sighs and
asked simply for a set
of sweeter lies
[because it's only after you
sell yourself to the earth that
you learn love is not a
chemical reaction anticipating
every ignited glance and soured
word; no, it is a thing
of obligation that sleeps upon
your doorstep, knowing you
will always come back,
knowing you could never forget
he called to her on hollow
nights, and she found his
voice when she had nowhere
left to go
he was the cereal box savior;
she only needed a place
to bury her bones
[it was never sparks but
instead a dull roar that
filled their ears until
life was a blur of static
when she whispered I love
you, he really believed it.
why we pity angelsto him;why we pity angels in Free Verse More Like This
you are afraid of phonecalls. you
are afraid of your own voice, and
opening your ribcage to let
your heart come live on your sleeve.
you are afraid of living without caffeine
or alcohol, whatever the day calls for;
you are afraid of being real
without laughing afterwards, becoming
everything you worked so hard to get
away from, acknowledging all
that you still are. know this:
I am afraid of loud noises.
I am afraid of honesty and drowning,
people I don’t know and words
I won’t say. I am afraid
of growing old and living alone and
you not accepting me. I am afraid
of myself. In that, we are the same.
I have the compulsion to grab you
and cup you to me like you are some
half-alive bird, like that sound
as the lazy sun paints you a portrait is
your hummingbird heart and not my own
shallow breaths. in the beginning,
you were my peace of mind. you traced
the contours of my being with a scalpel
and held me up, a shadow puppet,
as the darkest, blackest figures I gav
Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character whoSleeping Beauty in Free Verse More Like This
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival
(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)
casual blasphemyfor the past four yearscasual blasphemy in Free Verse More Like This
I’ve been in love with a boy
who’s too busy loving life to notice
I exist. I don’t think he’s ever seen me
past his tunnel vision living--
I’m in love with a boy who
wears black gauges and swears
he’s a deist who’s fed up with
the backwards-fucked system
that governs our lives; he talks to me
about the symbolic importance
of hunger and need and rebellion
and isolationism and death as
Orwell and Golding must have written it,
and, god, I just want to crack open
my ribs so he can see the literary
starvation destroying me, the not-quite
metaphoric devastation of my liver and
paper cuts scarring my heart. I want
him to talk to me about the reasons
we ought to avoid college
and capitalism and commitment and explain
to me what this all really means.
[I want to be so unflinchingly honest
with you that it will be as natural
and sinful as all the others
before, just without the glare
of bare skin and self-hate. I want to tell you
everything I'm becomingtwo weeks until the end of the world,everything I'm becoming in Free Verse More Like This
and i’m busy stockpiling all my regrets,
writing letters to flaws i don’t care
to fix, and trying to learn to draw
infinity. it’s time for two truths and a lie:
1. i was drunk for an hour on
good vibes and loneliness and
that quote “from the moment we
are born we begin to die”
2. and god, Bianca, you still show up
in my dreams; glaze-eyed and
more vocal than you ever were
when you were half-alive
1. (how close i came to arctic happiness
when you froze in my mind,
snowflake breath lingering like
the soundtrack of my breakdown)
now, she tells me she is sick
of the clothes stretched tight like
a second skin, and the gaping silences
between her ribs, and the singsong
unimportance glazing over her
hollywood-hangover eyes. she blossoms
like an earthquake, finally
growing into the goosebumps
and hollow bones her father
gave her-- i want to cure the world,
use a freeze ray to halt time
and kiss every empty wound;
mutterings from over the cuckoo's nesti.mutterings from over the cuckoo's nest in Free Verse More Like This
it is dark. that
is a judgment. my roommate
is snoring, and somewhere,
a girl is crying because
she doesn't have a heart
so she doesn't have
a home. if we are time bombs,
I think I must have detonated
a little late. it is dark
and I can't see
why all problems are defined
but their need to be solved.
I dream in color, but I live
in black and white. I drown
in gray faces that don't
sound familiar; it is dark
and I can't remember
the last time it was bright.
I am afraid
of caring. we are a strange
people, we, who love by
hating ourselves, by bleeding
am afraid that
one day, I might start crying,
and I won't be able to stop and
it will be the second Great Flood,
all the world will drown in
my mistakes. You
draw that out of me,
like a marionette on
a string, you pull these
anchors out from
my stomach until I
can hardly breathe. you
live on the other half of the mirror,
I am afraid
that distance is too
in the end,
it's all the same. every
something lacking this way comesshe smells of smoke, tastessomething lacking this way comes in Free Verse More Like This
of cheap dreams and cheaper makeup,
sounds like someone who's used
to giving; her eyes are two
glossy sunsets out of a few
trillion that have set before--
when she shuts them, no one
pathological liarsI spin, spin,pathological liars in Free Verse More Like This
on ballet toes,
but my balance is impaired.
I stumble over my own grace
like god is trying to trip me up.
please give me an example
of something that makes me worthwhile.
tonight the roads are winding.
my head is lolling
as I battle myself to keep my eyes open,
and all I can think about is how
the radio stations play
the same goddamn songs
a hundred times in a row.
monotony always frustrates me.
maybe that’s why we didn’t last.
are all carbon copies.
my tattoos frightened you;
you claimed that anything so damaging
shouldn’t be so permanent.
i got them all removed last week.
my arms are bare of ink.
i cut my hair short, shorter than yours,
gave myself a black eye
just to pretend there was a story behind it.
you wouldn’t recognize me anymore,
and I’m so happy I could cry.
you changed your mind, changed your sheets,
changed the woman you loved
like flicking off a switch.
I changed the locks, changed my
Paper-Thin Promisesthe first time I caught sight of yourPaper-Thin Promises in Free Verse More Like This
glistening, marble eyes,
I decided you disgust me.
I hate you the way I hate perfection:
merciless, like the snap of mantis jaws.
every fact of you is pretentious,
held high like you raise a middle finger.
You, the artist, always sculpting things,
tried to squeeze my malleable heart like white clay
and stash it in your pocket to rattle with stones.
paint me an unflinching self portrait, my dear:
this skyscraper of a boy shaking with anticipation
to build and destroy, build and destroy.
you sink in tooth and talon at first mention of beauty,
love-biting Aphrodite as though you were equals.
you're a statue, a prison,
a tasteless reproduction of a child's Heaven
but you are no museum.
you may hang yourself in gilded frames,
forcing masses to silence with obscurity,
but that does not make you a hallowed hall.
no, I fear you're no Metropolitan.
you look at me, daring to think you understand.
your words trickle from my lips like a waterfall
as you tell m
you've been dead for a year, my deari met you on december 21st,you've been dead for a year, my dear in Free Verse More Like This
the longest night of the year.
you had solstice eyes: cold, dark, alluring.
i knew you were not meant to last,
powerful as a gale but fragile as
the tulip stems you snapped,
a sickening cycle of you,
an overwhelming tidal wave.
they say two wrongs will never make a right,
but i made so many bad choices that
i wound up back where I began.
it was too easy to love you,
but getting you to love me back was impossible.
i clawed at your chest until I struck blood,
until my nails split into shards.
you were born a phantom,
and i, your corpse.
holding onto you felt like drowning in quicksand;
i fought but always sank into your arms.
i breathed in dirt, breathed in dust, and
found my organs choked with you,
smothered by your existence.
you sucked out my breath
every time i kissed you.
i died every day with your hand
knotted in my hair.
You left on june 21st,
the longest day of the year.
i bit down sorrow and deconstructed
the labyrinth within me,
the one you hadn't th
because you don't understandand you laugh, joker,because you don't understand in Free Verse More Like This
because the king's on your side
diamonds never meant much to you--
you wanted to see it all fall,
to watch everything dissolve.
i've never been so terrified of ignorance
are so careless
i don't know if we speak the same language.
it's cold today,
and all the windows are shut.
there's no breeze
to set you straight,
and the flag waves
in the classroom corner
like it's seen and heard
far too much.
stars and stripes,
we like to think we're above it all,
but really, we're just playing
with a microscope,
until we destroy our specimens.
and in apocalypse dust,
the air grazes
we are all that's left,
but we're nothing.
and you laugh,
when you say
"the u.s. and russia combined
have enough nukes
to destroy the world three times over."
well, don't you think
destroying the world once
powerless, and reaching."He's the kind of personpowerless, and reaching. in Free Verse More Like This
who tells me to 'cheer up'
when I'm depressed,"
he says, scoffing,
and I shake my head
"What a useless comment."
He chuckles, agrees,
but I keep thinking about
about all the "cheer up"s
and "just be happy"s
he's heard in his life.
I want to say "cheer up,"
I want my words to magically
cure him, heal him,
crush his depression
in a way that no pills ever could,
but I know it doesn't work like that.
Happiness is not an item
to be obtained with quarters
it is not a country to travel to
in airplanes and sailboats.
Happiness is a change in the wind,
a flicker from east to west
that cannot be upheld permanently.
For him, it is a road
blocked by people who roll their eyes
and tell him to get over himself.
When I wrap my arms around him,
he laughs again,
sinks into my body.
I think about hollow rooms,
sound echoing off the walls.
jelly beansRyan’s hands shook on the cold metal doorknob. On the other side of the door, he had no idea what condition he would find Nora in. All he knew was that he’d received a call from North Pine Hospital at two o’clock in the morning regarding a Miss Nora Anne Hartford, who’d been admitted earlier and who had him listed as his first point of contact.jelly beans in Scraps More Like This
He’d driven there half asleep, swerving back and forth on the dimly lit country roads. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten into an accident and wound up in the hospital himself.
Now, taking a deep breath and clenching his teeth, he opened the door and let himself in. The room was small and white. Ryan frowned at the scent of antiseptic. God, he hated hospitals.
Nora was sitting up in bed in a hospital gown, her wrist up close to her face. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that she was trying to rip an I.V. out of her hand with her teeth.
“Nora! What are you doing?” Ryan asked, horrified.
vacation artifact."Last summer I took my cell phone to the beach,"vacation artifact. in Free Verse More Like This
"and the ocean drenched it.
It hasn't worked since then."
She's messy, truly,
a dead battery,
a gauge hovering on empty.
I tell her to call the phone company,
get a back up or refund or some other nonsense.
(her lips didn't move).
For a moment I think
she's going to push me away again,
film up like ankle-cutting sea glass.
"I can't replace it.
I'll lose the last text message
he ever sent me."
I fall quiet because I know.
Today I see the cell phone,
not fade awayTwisted up in a trap of I.V.s,not fade away in Free Verse More Like This
she withered and withered away.
Disease stole her lively light
from the sickbed where she lay.
A month before she perished,
I think she might have said,
"I know that I am dying, sure,
but dying's not the same as dead."
hometown bluesthey say home is where the heart is,hometown blues in Free Verse More Like This
but they never claimed it had to be beating.
if this town is all there is to living,
then I'm dead,
and these dusty dirt roads
are my sad little gravestones.
there's a harsh winter wind.
but it's the same air I've inhaled
since I first opened my
surgical steel eye to the world.
remember the pale pink dress
I wore to our senior prom?
you held me
under the fuzzy yellow confetti light.
I loved you because you were so gentle,
and when I fell apart,
you were the only person who knew
I could fix myself on my own.
you twirled me like I mattered,
because you knew that one day I would die.
you forgot that you would, too.
you are wrought iron starlight,
my crooked grey dove.
you live in the sidewalk cracks,
moaning my name as I
cautiously step over the gorges.
my mother calls, from time to time.
I've learned to let the phone ring
because her voice is not the one I want to hear.
she's too tepid, unsure.
she's the link strangling me,
pinning me t
you have seven days to live.1.the news doesn't hurt:you have seven days to live. in Free Verse More Like This
it's his eyes that hurt you,
the glimmer of his past
creeping in just like
his father used to creep in
at three a.m.
with a sin on his mind
and rage on his hands.
he waits for you to react,
but you don't
because he's suddenly seven again,
while mommy cries
in a ball on the couch.
2.you think time
is a funny thing.
people talk about it
like it is an object:
"I need more time," they say,
like they will go to the store later
and buy more.
but you know that time
is more like an ocean wave,
with an endless
pounding that continues
long after we greet the dirt,
and we want more time,
but time doesn't want us.
3.he tries to force you
into his wrists,
his ankles, his collarbone.
he thinks that if he
loves you enough,
he can save you.
you know that he can't,
so you cut through him
night after night,
searching for an exit.
4.sometimes death scares you.
you remind yourself that
no matter how much you want
Crushmy heart skips a beat,Crush in Free Verse More Like This
my eyes wide like a caught doe,
oh how you have this effect on me?
Guess I'll never know,
but you're always on my mind
and it's getting quite distracting
and I'm a nervous wreck
who doesn't know what to do
oh how life troubles me
with throwing you in my way.
I'm crushing so bad,
and I'm sure you can tell.
but I'm too afraid to do anything
I'm scared of getting broken
so here I'll be
crushing on you from afar,
because I'm too scared.
and when I see you,
my heart will skip a beat
butterflies will fly in my stomach.
but this I'll keep to myself,
because I'm afraid of being crushed
Guess we'll see how life plays out,
and maybe just maybe
(and here I am hoping)
you'll like me back and
we could get something started.
But for now and maybe forever
(unless I get the courage)
I'll keep this too myself
You'd think twiceYou'd think twice,You'd think twice in Free Verse More Like This
I know you would.
If you knew the truth
of what I've done.
I've hurt myself,
and I can't promise
I won't do it again.
I'm broken down,
and not very pretty
in the first place
so if you knew everything else
you would think twice
I know almost certainly.
For why have someone that is
broken and insecure
when you can have
someone with less problems?
why go after me,
when there's someone better?
who has no scars,
who has not hurt their family.
someone that is not damaged.
yes I'm pretty sure
you would think twice
about liking me
if you knew the whole truth.
because why have me
when there's someone
that isn't broken
What is It?What was it,What is It? in Free Verse More Like This
that attracted me to you?
that made me grow these feelings
I detest so much,
but at the same time
enjoy a bit?
These feelings that,
make me blush when you're near,
and make me embarrass myself to no end.
you knew all along too,
and yet you let me act like a fool.
By still liking you,
and still you don't say a word.
I'd rather you reject me,
then maybe I could move on.
But alas you do nothing,
and my feelings still remain.
And friends question why?
And what is it that makes me like you?
yet I have no answer,
for it just happened like a storm.
with hints of it here and there,
but overall inevitable to avoid.
I barely know you!
Yet you're making me blush, and splutter.
And making me have hope,
for a happy ending,
when I don't even have you
to begin with!
These feelings hurt me,
and they show no signs of leaving,
and I'm stuck here wondering.
In the dead of night
what is it,
that makes these feelings stay?
My Heart, love, and soulI give to youMy Heart, love, and soul in Free Verse More Like This
tis yours to do
as you please.
I give you my soul,
in hopes that
lead it the right way.
I give you my love,
in hope that
you will cherish it
and help it grow.
I give you my all,
in hopes that you
will not throw it all away,
and break me like so many others.
Tis you I am trusting,
with my heart, love, and soul.
so please all I want in simple return.
is that you do not throw any of it away.
never thought I'd be like thisI never thoughtnever thought I'd be like this in Free Verse More Like This
I'd be like this,
with broekn smiles
and scarred up wrists.
No, I never thought
I'd be like this
back when my world
was filled with joy.
I would cry so much,
and have to remember
faded out scars.
I never thought
I would feel alone
when I was a little girl.
Back when days were simple
and cooties still existed.
When I'd smile and play,
and had such big dreams.
of reaching for the sky,
of singing on stage,
and becoming president.
but it never crossed my mind
that I'd feel pain,
and cry so much
and that my pleas would go unheard
I thought the world
was a happy place,
for me as a little girl,
and I never thought
I'd be this way.
all torn apart,
and hoping to be fixed.
never thought the
pain would last
I thought there'd atleast be someone there,
someone who loved me
and cared for me.
but never as a little girl.
had I thought
those dreams would be
and I'd be here
left in pain.
no I never thought
as a little girl
that i'd end up
the way I am...
Deadi died long ago,Dead in Free Verse More Like This
i may breathe
but i'm not
alive, no matter
how much my
or how much I breathe
i died long ago,
now i'm just
an empty shell,
of a former self.
living a life,
around me people
whisper of how
they never want
to lose me, for
me not to die
but they don't
realise that i
died a long time ago,
i'm not the same,
i'm dead but still living,
living in pain,
tears that never end,
i try and live, to
be happy for once,
but you can't bring
the dead back...
Lonely .:Chibi!SwedenXChibi!Reader:.You were in the playground playing with the other chibi nations. While Germania and Roman empire were watching you guys. Well Germania more than Roman Empire, but what did you expect?Lonely .:Chibi!SwedenXChibi!Reader:. in Romance More Like This
The Italy twins were playing in the sandbox with HRE, and Japan. The BTT were playing on the jungle gym. And the others were either on the swings or playing on the slides or something. You were playing with China on the swings. Then yo noticed a little nation just watching from the edge of the playground. He had a glare on his face that made him seemed a bit intimidating, but most of all he looked lonely.
"Hey China, who's that?" You asked.
"Oh that's Sweden, aru." China said stopping his swing next to yours.
"He looks lonely..." You muttered.
"Well alot of people are afraid of him. He glares a lot and it scares people away, aru." China said matter of factly.
"Well, I'm gonna talk to him." You said and jumped off the swing. You landed gracefully on the ground, well as gracefully as a chibi nation could.
Star-writHear me read it!Star-writ in Free Verse More Like This
It is nebulonic fate that we should dance
together in this burning bald ballroom
as the flames lick up the sepiatic walls
and drip curled paper down upon us.
It is our right to spin each other here
in the torrentous reign of flames and ash
as the chandelier, already hanging,
spits and sparks at us, trying to take us too;
and as everything we ever loved or cherished
in porcelain veneer or hand-crafted sycamore
crumbles to a close, still the thought remains-
that it is our star-writ fate to dance on.
with a whisperthis is how we rule the world,with a whisper in Free Verse More Like This
the forgotten, lobotom-ised,
of a long lost dystopast.
not with a SHOUT,
we do not argue.
we do not even unsheath
we whisper in your children's ears
the memories of what should have been.
the life we all crave.
the death we all crave.
WE do not discriminate
our opinions onto others
pressing the side of the blade
down onto the flesh
all are bitten
with the fever of our belief.
this is how we rule the world,
we tell stories,
we incite a generation
with their own scar/r/ed lungs
with a whisper.
Framed[ I met him at the county fair.Framed in Free Verse More Like This
It wasn't like the songs predicted;
I had mud up my shins and he
had grass in his hair. What a mess. ]
[ I kissed him at my grandma's house.
He swallowed me and digested me;
I became a part of his simmering self.
We fused together, and I died. ]
[ I married him in a triangular church,
When I turned up in white he grinned
and whispered "what, no muddy knees?".
I put a leaf from my bouquet in his hair. ]
[ He kissed her at my grandma's house.
She had left it to us when she passed.
In the house where I'd learned about love
he taught me all I know about betrayal. ]
[ He left me at the train station.
I'd helped him with his leather suitcase,
struggling to get a grip of the situation
I gave a habitual kiss goodbye. Awkward. ]
[ He met another girl in group therapy.
They had a mad, passionate affair for a year
then, it expired. Shortly after, she did too.
He came to me, life turning to sand. ]
[ I forgave him at my birthday party
surrounded by friends wh
The Last LightAfter the lung shivers around a globule of fluid, rattling to dismiss it.The Last Light in Free Verse More Like This
After hallucination and disorientation, after the tears and words,
far after these poor man's indicators of consciousness have passed.
After the kidney droops raisin'd, bowing its head on its wilting stalk.
After the tepid heart brushes its vibrato through the body for a final time
and the resonance of that note dully hums through the mottled skin.
After the blurry murmurs of a destituted loved-one fades to tinnitus.
After it becomes nothing but sound (and then to nothing as much as that),
as the brain itself claws the inside of a skull for the semblance of a breath;
in the tipping moment between that and the culmination of a life well grown;
only then will hope, the last one to turn out the light inside, die.
Tying the KnotToday we tied the knot.Tying the Knot in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When I woke up this morning my hands hit the alarm clock and absorbed its vibrato shrilling. I had been up most of the night, anxious, but I put that aside quickly by reminding myself of the future. There was a lot to do to get ready!
I shaved carefully, slower than normal as I didn't want any blood on me. Things had to be perfect. I felt my stomach churning with nerves as I showered but by the time I got out of the shower my trembling fingers had calmed to a bass instinct.
I stood in front of a full length mirror as I fumbled with the buttons on my clean white shirt. It reminded me of when you taught me how to iron. I wasn't as good at it as you were but I looked respectable.
Dressed and ready I knew the time was almost come, but before I went downstairs to meet you I hung out of the window smoking a cigarette. You didn't know I'd taken up smoking whilst we prepared for the big day, I tried not to let on but sometimes I think you smell it on me. I remembered yo
IronmanHear me read itIronman in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
HaloHear me read itHalo in Free Verse More Like This
A halo of rope around my neck,
Is the closest to heaven, that I'll ever get.
VixenAtrophied vixen,Vixen in Free Verse More Like This
stub snout in snow
clogging her hectic breathing
with the dank remainders
of a sky crying
over her inevitable death,
her blood slows.
it thickens and deepens
with the slug trailing
from heart to throat-
poisoned from inside.
She has lived with it,
cradled it, her cub.
Protected the squirming womb
as her toxic bundle
of self hated grows
that grew, that bites
on her ears, her heart,
it snaps shut
on her grating throat
as it heaves in a smile.
The tight, splintering limbs
of the atrophied vixen
turn to tree roots
and bury themselves
six feet under the snow;
she closes her eyes
Don'tTook double the dose to watch the ceiling spin,Don't in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
think about all the mistakes in my life again.
Gaze up and try not to cry tonight;
wake up to the way the stars shine so bright
I lie and take in the plaster
God knows what it is that I'm after
I lie and shake and cry til it's over
then I try to move to the sofa
and I'd rather be anywhere else.
As the world starts to blur there's no one but me
and I let my life slip indifferently
and if you were here, you'd not say goodbye
you'd catch all my tears and then you would sigh
I lie and take in the plaster
God knows what it is that I'm after
I lie and shake and cry til it's over
then I try to move to the sofa
and I'd rather be anywhere else.
When days are hectic and filled with emotion
all I desire is to stop the commotion
but nights are so lonely, life is so dreary
and I see the dark things so very clearly
SunburntMy sun-blistered heartSunburnt in Free Verse More Like This
has an angry red skin
that peels and flakes;
sobbing wood-shaving tears.
They collect on the ribcage floor
making a dirty black bed
for the heart to lay in
when it sinks - heavy -
at the end of each day.
It tries to shed this skin,
an amalgamation of former loves
sueted into a shell;
it wants to be free of the past;
but my whole, burnt raw heart,
bites at itself in your name,
turning rabid on itself
and picking leperose holes
out of its memories.
It eats itself,
and I hold onto the railings
and try to breathe.
Try to colonise my life sentence
Until a dark period grinds me to a stop.
Tired, Exhausted, DrainedTired, Exhausted, Drained:Tired, Exhausted, Drained in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I am bloody exhausted! Drained to the core of my soul.
I wake up every morning with bags; burning ever deeper into my eyes.
Sunken masses of flesh, reminding me that the dreamscape -
One in which I sought refuge; is now buried where it lies.
Yet still I force myself to trudge through this wilderness.
Forever caught in a moon drenched, delusory twilight.
An endless cycle of failure and renewed hope;
Giving rise to the very stubbornness that defines me.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th February 2013
UndyingUndying:Undying in Free Verse More Like This
How many days do you spend now, putting me down?
The coffin call for a dead man waiting around
"He's just an underground laughing stock, never to rise"
But on the seventh day I'm coming back; these are my ties!
The kind of promise that you made with the devil inside
You try to take away my soul, but I take it in stride
I ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his pride
I am the real and the raw of the things you denied!
You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strong
You're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.
You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's best
But I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put to the test!
-Chen Yuan Wen, 7th February 2013
Misery's GardenMisery's Garden:Misery's Garden in Free Verse More Like This
Through the cold ice we trekked, the Reaper and I.
His face an ever-shifting grin, oscillating between joy and malice...
With quick, light-footed steps, he lead me to a warm green meadow.
A small hut in the distance, a little garden beside.
Where a hunchbacked man, covered in boils and open wounds;
Bearing a crooked jaw and gnarled hands, tilled the earth.
"Egh yew ooh wha gu wan!"
I was so startled by the hunchback's sudden outburst,
That I jumped and gripped the Reaper's cloak in fright,
Yet as soon as he had seen me, the hunchback's eyes glazed over;
He appeared to forget about our presence...
I had to admit, I was very curious
And I wished to move in close so I could inspect him.
Reaching out with my hand to clasp his own;
I was assailed by horrid visions.
In one instance I was a collector of night soil,
Abuse hurled at me like stones and I the accepting target.
For to speak was to open this torn mouth of mine
And that would merely draw a mocki
These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:These Words Aren't Pretty in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel
And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight
And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty words but my lips remain bound
So deeply silenced by fear - the darkness I hear,
Afraid to be unloved by the ones I hold dear
I've hit the limit of time; my lyrical crime
These words that I've lived are just turning to grime.
So I wish I had their talent; just a sliver of that
If their skill was a mountain then I've broken my back
It's like t
I've Changed (Yeah right)I've Changed (Yeah right):I've Changed (Yeah right) in Free Verse More Like This
You know, I tell myself everday,
That I'm going to change - that I'll be different.
'This isn't the same; I'm not the same,' that's what I tell myself...
As I sit in front of the computer, praying time doesn't move.
Coward, you're weak and you'll always be weak! You bloody disgrace...
I pick up some new magazine, get inspired,
'I want to be like that guy,' is what I think to myself.
I give it a try for two or three days - I quit.
Same old shit again...
Making up excuses? It's what you always do, you gutless wonder...
I try to reach out with my hands,
Seeking something, anything that I can find to help myself hold on...
But I don't find it - I just find myself,
Sinking back down into the same black swamp - I'm drowning.
Awww, what's the matter? You gonna cry, you gonna cry?
Yeah, I've hit rock bottom,
And you know what? It feels pretty damn good down here.
Nice, warm, comfortable, familiar.
No pressure, no problems - just like everb
Painted SkinPainted Skin:Painted Skin in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles at you, as you enter the office;
Wearing eyeliner made of contempt and disdain.
His cheap cologne invades your nostrils immediately
And you quickly suppress a cough.
"Yes, yes, indeed we have to review this...er, many things are involved."
His face is powdered with a layer of self-importance;
Lips reddened by the polite harshness he spews.
His forked tongue flickers as he prattles on
And you're really getting quite tired.
"Oh I'm sorry! Of course, of course I understand; but my way is much better!"
You're getting really bored now, so you take a look around the room.
The expectation is to see it bedecked with acolades;
Yet bare walls, cold and empty, are all that greets you.
"Are you listening to me, I'm telling you why this isn't good enough. LISTEN TO ME!"
You take a look at the cup of coffee you were offered,
Cheap and lukewarm; you narrow your eyes.
"Is there a problem? I'm being honest, this is for YOUR OWN GOOD!"
Under YouUnder You:Under You in Free Verse More Like This
Beneath the surface of the water,
There is silence, peace and darkness.
To mute the mouths of men,
To drown the voice of the world.
Surrounded by ignorance,
I choose not to hear your whispers.
Without death or pain,
Without birth and life;
Surrounded by denial,
I reject this sense of self.
Without colour or light,
Denying all that is around me;
Surrounded by emptiness,
I am blind within this cage.
Muted, ignorant and blind,
I sleep beneath the surface of the lake.
Eternally drenched, eternally drowned,
I am the you beneath the surface.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 8th July 2013
At The Other End of the BulletThey say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. Well, that didn't really happen to me. I remember it hurting; a searing pain in the back of my mind, and then it was all over...At The Other End of the Bullet in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I found myself floating, drifting high above the battlefield. My feet touched something that felt like an invisible glass floor, and soon I found that I was able to stand on it. It took awhile to get over my fear of heights, but once I did; I opened my eyes and just, watched, as the entire world carried on.
Funnily enough, I didn't feel much of anything at the time. I guess they tend to play it up in the movies. They always show that people remain angry, that people have feelings of wanting to do something or to accomplish something. But once you're gone, you don't actually feel much of that.
Instead, I remember being calm. I was very calm after that final moment. I would poke my head every now and again, thinking that the skin would feel raw, but other than that; I was alright. I
Alone but AliveAlone but Alive:Alone but Alive in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Oh here I am standing,
A lost soul is landing.
The coldest December,
Can you still remember?
Do you even hear me?
There's no one around me!
Oh shadow that I see,
The void right behind me.
Yet still I am breathing;
Yet still I am feeling.
The coldest sensation,
Oh worthless creation!
Are you still crying?
Oh why are you lying - abandoned and cold
Cold like what was left of soul,
Made of all the life you stole.
Walk divine but made of sin,
Worm of hatred squrim within.
Sin of lust and sin of pride,
Lash the tongue that last has lied.
Yours was silver with a promise,
Kiss of death and then you vomit.
Burning bile of ugly treason,
No one else can know the reason.
Left a soul behind to burn;
You are the reason I have turned...
On this cold and endless night...
When I'm finally pierced by the light...
And I awaken from this hell...
ALONE - BUT ALIVE!
Alive and again oh do I dare?
To give this heart and to lay it bare.
When heaven cast its fate
I Like To Play With SkinI Like To Play With Skin:I Like To Play With Skin in Free Verse More Like This
My dear friends and watch,
As the feeling of life itself
Crumbles beneath each ounce of pain.
Needles slowly piercing into the body,
Paralyzing nerves and expressions.
A mask of pure horror; living terror,
Kept alive on the barest limit of the border.
Such tempting features,
Leave me eager to slip a knife beneath flesh.
Ripping soft layers of epidermal mache,
Tanned and dried, woven slowly into a loving mask.
And with my latest acquisition complete,
Only twenty spaces remain...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 28th April 2013
I'm So TiredI'm so tired of crying,I'm So Tired in Free Verse More Like This
I'm so tired of loving,
I'm so tired of dying
inside my soul each day.
I'm so tired of hoping,
I'm so tired of dreaming,
I'm so tired of imagining.
It will never be real anyway.
I'm so tired of falling,
I'm so tired of failing,
I'm so tired of walking
when love is so far away.
I'm so tired of wishing,
I'm so tired of searching,
I'm so tired of remembering
those beautiful things you used to say.
I'm so tired of bleeding,
I'm so tired of yearning,
I'm so tired of living
in a world that's grey.
But most of all I'm tired,
of being the person I am,
I'm tired of my mistakes,
I'm tired of my broken heart.
I'm just so tired of being me.
The Girl With 100 NamesThere goes the girl with 100 names,The Girl With 100 Names in Free Verse More Like This
walking off into the world with nothing but fear.
What do they think of her outfit today?
Does she even fit in here?
In front of her are unfamiliar faces,
that blaze with judging eyes,
but what they say behind her back,
might come as a surprise.
She's pretty, she's smart,
I love her sense of style,
cute, adorable friendly,
with the most heart-warming smile.
She's darling, she's talented,
with a voice like sweet honey,
lovely, beautiful, sunny.
She's got so much potential,
she's keen and bright,
her seemingly lonely eyes,
possess a sort of light.
She's encouraging she's funny,
she's gorgeous and charming,
she's kind to those around her,
my, my, what a darling.
But she turns a deaf ear,
and a blind eye,
she thinks that every compliment,
is a degrading lie.
There goes the girl with 100 names,
walking off into the world with nothing but fear,
still lonely and searching,
for those words she refuses to hear.
Jack FrostXReader: We Meet AgainJack FrostXReader: We Meet Again in Romance More Like This
You ran through the falling snow, tears streaming down your face. The moon was the only thing lighting your path, though you didn't even know where you were going anyway. Suddenly your foot struck a rock under the blanket of snow and you plummeted into it's cold embrace face first.
Never in your life had you needed someone so bad.
You lay there, your cheeks stinging from the biting cold the snow offered. Not able to take it anymore, you sat up and buried your face in your knees. Eventually you would have to sum up some strength and go home, but that wasn't happening anytime soon.
Today had been the worst day the fates had ever decided to give to you. That morning you had walked in on another fight between your parents. Again it had been about money problems like it always was. You had tried to brush it off as you walked to school, but for some reason you felt this fight was different then the rest. When you got to school your boyfriend came to tell you he had some news. He ha