9729 kilometers away, to be exact.i have these bones like flowers-9729 kilometers away, to be exact. in Free Verse More Like This
fragile and finely plucked,
these lily stargazers
are kissing ocean beds,
making love to sirens
for a taste of her
i want to tape maps to my limbs-
throw caution to the wind
as i gather up
every love letter receipt,
from every false attempt
i ever wrote her
& forget for just a moment
that even still
she does not love me.
Therapists, I don't like their taste.i.Therapists, I don't like their taste. in Free Verse More Like This
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.
she stole my rings
and left me hollow.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through the storm of my mind
like a lighthouse-
instead of pills,
if a therapist could
give me the strength
i might just
take my chances.
Well...Well, you're not anorexic. So you must be fat.Well... in Free Verse More Like This
A fat, ugly person.
Well, you fit in with the crowd. You must be a fake.
A fake wannabe.
Well, you're happy. What are you hiding?
You've got to be hiding something.
Well, you're sad. You must be emo.
An emo attention seeker.
Well, you're popular. So you must be a jerk.
Why would anyone like you in the first place?
Well, you're quiet. You must be a nobody.
Nobody at all.
Well, you're you.
What else could go wrong?
LandlockedLandlocked in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You told me not to lose myself in these monsoon-moods, but the winds backed to westerlies and caught me up in their currents; the ebb and flow of these atmospheric tides may yet turn my bones to gypsum-dunes, fated to crawl across dry land forever in search of the sea.
ResurgenceWith these words, I consume the world.Resurgence in Free Verse More Like This
A fire bursts out in every forest;
a drought parches every pasture;
a stillness pervades all bodies of water.
The Earth halts for the winds of death.
A fire bursts out in every city;
a plague ravages every nation;
a famine starves all of civilization.
Conflict envelops the bastions of peace.
A fire bursts out in every heart;
a parasite eats away at every mind;
a blindness drives all men mad.
The world burns
before it turns,
and the blight
before the light.
The people cry
before our eyes,
and the death
before the breath.
With these words, I give hope.
A light shines in every soul;
an evil flees from every kind word;
a simple act breeds all joy.
The Earth moves for us.
A veil lifts from every perception;
a fog disperses from every land;
a resurgence born from all remaining strength.
The world learns
before it burns,
and the light
before the blight.
The people rise
before our cries,
and the breath
before the death.
With these words, I consume the wor
Spirit BlazeSpirit Blaze in Free Verse More Like This
Iridescent flickers of color
Float carelessly throughout the air
Resurfacing the wanders of the unknown
While exposing the passions within
The flames of the heathen blaze
Burst forth in sentimental dance
Exploding the tendencies of lacking thus
The infliction no longer dispersed
How I long of that fire
That flare of confession
Which leads and forgives and disappears
While leaving behind charred souls
My heart is made of coal
No longer of the nightly failings
But rather of the sky light sparks
That disappears behind rusted remarks
The spirits of the flourish
Tend to all my worthless cares
They bring up to the feelings of thus
The life circle...
Of the spirit blaze
The Girl Who Didn't ExistThere was a girl who didn't seem to existThe Girl Who Didn't Exist in Free Verse More Like This
In either time or space.
The world spun without a care.
It's like she wasn't. Even. There.
It was like she was a chill in the night
That ran up people's spines,
But no one ever noticed her
And her visibility to others continued to decline.
She felt like she existed-
But that was just a lie.
Because one night as she watched the world
In the shadows
She let out her final cry.
And so the girl who didn't exist
Became a whisper in the night
And her sorrowful whispers haunt my mind
Every. Single. Night.
Group Critique: TMNTAprilOneilGroup Critique: TMNTAprilOneil in Settings More Like This
The group TMNTAprilOneil is run by FlashyFashionFraud, it has approximately 180 members with 190 watchers, this group has eleven admins, counting the founder and was founded six months ago with over 4,000 page views. It currently has thirteen folders, counting featured. The rules to the group are simple, be polite, be positive, put the right pictures in the appropriate folders and have fun. The group is dedicated to the fifth turtle, April O'Neil, from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
The icon is the face of the group, and this icon was talentedly created. It grabs ones attention though I must say it flashes by a little to fats, personally I would slow it down a bit, give someone time to take in each persona of April.
The name of the group is also important, sadly another April group called TMNT-AprilONeil was created a month before FlashyFashionFraud's group and the name is just the same minus a dash, some may mistake this for copping or uncreative.
The Wailing: TeaserPart I: The SirensThe Wailing: Teaser in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The sound of the sirens is what has stayed with me. I remember the explosions, the engines of the Messerschmitts, the screams of men trapped beneath the rubble. Of course I do. But it is the wail of the sirens that yet haunts my dreams, settles that same cold sickness in my gut, that same cold slickness on my palms. It is the banshee shriek of coming death.
The night was cold and clear when that sound prickled along my arms like so many icy fingers reaching out from behind the drapes.
Rowan stilled her hands at the typewriter and ripped the sheet from the machine, lest some unscrupulous eye should take advantage of her temporary absence. She snatched up a grey cardigan, a torch, and the requisite gas mask, and had nearly gotten to the door before she turned back to look at me. Her dark eyes were as empty as ever.
‘Are you coming?’ she asked as she stuck one arm into a cardigan sleeve.
‘I’ll follow later,’ I said. ‘