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The DancerHear me read itMore Like This
The night I met Jessie she was beautiful. She swayed to the almost intolerably loud music as if her bones were made of it. She was something unknown. I remember the sharp cut of her hair had run across her cheek, parallel to her carved-out cheekbone. It looked like a wig, I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch her, and see if she felt like plastic. Who could ever believe that someone so perfect could be so real. I regret that. I regret doubting her reality.
Eventually she bought me a drink; she called it an Appleté but trapped in the pulsating fuchsia lights of the club it looked purple. It tasted like jealousy; sour and ey
Get upHear me read itMore Like This
She sat on the edge of her bed staring at the floor. Within her scope of vision there were many things she could look at. Many things to think about and process. There was a slate blouse that had wilted at the bottom of her bed, or her pale foot placed beside it. The foot looked unnatural there, with no pressure to grip it to the ground it looked unbelonging, like a cast aside prop. Yet she did not look, or think, or notice.
She just stared, blindly, for an hour, her thoughts were obnoxious and churned the paltry paste of self-disgust in her heart muscle, but they were relatively quiet as she repeated over and over in the fo
Once Upon This WorldOnce upon this world, I was asleep. Asleep and content, blissful unawareness had overtaken me and I loved it. Once upon this world I saw what I wanted, however briefly, it was no less mine. Once upon this world, there was nothing that could make me happier than time cast into oblivion carelessly abandoned in the ether. Once upon this world, I woke up.More Like This
Dearest Victoria When we became the Pokemon League Champions I was so proud of us. The combined effort of every member of the team pulled through and claimed victory. But I could not shake the feeling of failure, having lost Victoria the Victreebel at the last moment.More Like This
After the celebrations held in our honour my path led me to Lavender Tower where I would lay her soul to rest. I could only go alone, not wanting my new-found fans to witness me crying again. The channellers assured me she would be peaceful in the afterlife which comforted me, slightly. She would be at peace and I knew she would forgive me; but I wasn't sure that I could.
Victoria had
She Was a Stormcloudshe was a stormcloud, and you loved her,More Like This
and the two of you took walks and wore
nothing but promises,
broken chains and
strands of pinkish pearls.
and the two of you kissed under trees that attracted silver lightning
(metal branches scraped the sky, and you, always faithful,
tipped your coat over her head to keep her dry.)
but she never stayed that way.
in an instant, she had whirled into the rain
and danced without clothes,
without cares,
without you.
and she left you
with the pain of frostbite on your naked skin
where you trusted her to kiss you warm,
and you thought you heard her laughter
when the sun came out again the
Tumbling Down He said he was smart enough to be a Mensa member. She asked what that was. David said it was a group of people who took a test and were admitted to Mensa only if they tested as geniuses. Susanne just looked him, not entirely surpised and not entirely convinced David was right about that. Without knowing, and in light of what David did or didn't do for a living, Susanne went back to reading a novel she picked up on her weekly trips to the library.More Like This
Susanne and David had arguments now about those novels she read. She read everything from bestsellers to older classics, including childre
gold and bonesSully was pretty sure he wasn't cool enough. He had a yellow american appearal hoodie, brown bangs that fell into his blue eyes, and his father's old pentax film camera, but it wasn't enough. He was cool, but not Anthony McCormick cool.More Like This
Anthony was effortlessly cool, from the way he dressed to what he talked about. It was cool when Anthony breathed; not that Sully had spent a lot of time thinking about it or anything. On the day in question, an afternoon in May, Sully was walking through the old town district, looking for prospects. He was always looking, wherever he went, framing photographs with his eyes before he ever brought out his came
Yellow onceThat's the thing isn't it? Just the thing. Anytime, anywhere, any small biting coincidence. Or just some conclusion after a long series of mistakes, and words you shouldn't have said. And I get to think about that through the incessant buzz of everything in every corner of this goddamn place while Mary turns on taps and turns off taps and pitter-patters around the wet floor square we call a bathroom. And I bite down on my tongue so I don't snap at her.More Like This
I love her, sure. But god, god, sometimes. Sometimes I hate her.
"Mary."
She doesn't answer, she's turning on taps. She's picking things up and putting them down and focusing very hard on
Was it easyI used to believe that the world was small, that it was mine, and everyone else was a character in a play, and when I died I'd be born, my life a foetus dream, that would just carry on. I used to believe and that was enough. That people were honest.More Like This
I thought that things were easy.
Now I believe in science, and ghosts, and sometimes my gut, but I don't believe in much.
I was afraid of death, shouting, flapping wings, creaks and the shadows on my walls. I'm afraid it'll all get broken. I'm afraid of truth and lies. I'm afraid I understand too well and too little.
Of how little I can believe in.
The dusty light in the morning, stretching
Passion for Art'Passion', I use to hear this word from lips of people that love what they do, from people that work hard, from people with ideals. They don't need to look weird or fantastic, wise or intelectual, they are just normal people. People that are in love with their work.More Like This
'Passion', like when we drew for first time, when we were kids taking a notebook trying to fill these pages with our heroes, the things we wanted, we dreamed, our house, our family, our pets, etc.
'Passion' like first time somebody broke our heart and just a piece of paper and a pencil could console us. Like when our parents argued and we felt so frustrated having nothing to do just to define our rage in some doodles.
It's like something that comes from us without asking for permission, it just appears and burns, we don't search for it, it is something that we "suffer" but is according to our actions, our work, our effort. it is stimulated for the things that move us.
I hated art many times and I loved
Stopping for a moment to live a bitI wanted to sketch around mythology becuz of a contest, then I remembered a conversation I had with some friends after some of reflections I had.More Like This
I was thinking about honour and fame and goals and dreams. All of us would like some of fame, getting goals, reaching dreams, etc. We'd love making great things and getting some of recognition. Above all we as an artists always hope for support and appreciation for our art.
We can find more things we'd like to get: good job, a nice family, a nice house, money, a nice car, traveling, etc.
Our goals, dreams, wishes are nice and they can guide our steps in life but I was going beyond that and found that all of that doesn't care if our heart is insipid. If our day is just another day then that's just a burden.
Future is a world full of ghosts, sometimes even we feel frustrated for things that still don't come and we forget the present, the people around, the thigns we have.
Even our past kills our memory and also doesn't let us tasting
Love for PaintingWhee I was 16 years old my Literature teacher after watching a painting I made in tempera about Shakespeare told me I could study in the Fine Arts School of my city. I thought it was nice from her to tell me but actually it was not my dream. I wanted to be a football soccer player but I was 16 and I could go to the club where I played cuz I had to move, so the other thing I loved was anime and all about japanese cartoons. So I wanted to be a cartoonist.More Like This
The idea of studying graphic design came to my mind but I saw it was very expensive so I thought it'd be good to study painting to improve my perception of colours and art, etc. so I thought after studying painting I could go to Japan to work or learn around japanese cartoons or anime.
Finally I loved art by itself but that love didn't last much cuz I had a crisis. I loved much realistic stuff but it seemed over to me and some of my teachers made me think of it too. Realism seemed a kind of anachronistic thing then for many of artist an
Maybe I'll love youThere you areMore Like This
sitting down, trying to say much
and saying nothing,
you look at me
and I don't know what to say to dry your tears.
You avoid me
and look at me again.
I hold my face to don't fall.
And you press your lips
'cause you don't wanna hurt me.
I never abandoned you,
just love dies
when you have no place where to hold.
I never left you alone,
you were whom forgot
past doens't exist and future is no real.
No, I didn't play with you;
but I look at your face and you're not convinced.
What do you want me to do, rebuilding everything?
Are you going to love me more than you didn't love me?
And you cry and keep silence.
A
Fairytale Limerick TwistThere once was a fine CinderellaMore Like This
Who wanted a very fine fella
Would she meet him in time
Before the clock's chime?
The answer is in this novella.
She cooks, she washes and cleans
Such poverty had little means
With nothing to lose
She made her own shoes:
Carved slippers from two giant beans.
The dance had an animal loose
It dropped a bright, sparkling deuce
That object would be
Her ball's entry fee:
A golden egg laid from a goose.
The dancers had caused her to trip
The fountain was where she did slip
Each shoe cracked a shell
As water did swell
And vines sprouted forth like a whip.
The stalk lifted her from the crowd
Until
Jury DutyI choke down the thingsMore Like This
you wouldn't understand
so I don't have to shrink
under your judgement.
My third eye turned inwards
is jury enough;
never experiencing anything but
playbacks of bygones
of a girl no longer here.
All I know is hate for my past,
so I'll never let you see it.
All you know is love for my present,
so you don't understand
why compliments make my gaze
shift down.
Smiles fade,
can't fight the current,
the whirlpool;
pulled down
into the depths
of my own Mariana Trench.
Through these lies,
my past infects who I've become;
sickly purple veins
climb my limbs like ivy
till they reach my heart
and shut it down.
I'm so sorry
100TC - Obsession“What do you mean there were six signals?”More Like This
“We couldn’t lock onto their ship when they left port. They must have dropped scramblers with the same frequencies and changed theirs once they had the head start. I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot follow them,” Cervant’s head of security had to fight the urge to flinch back at the baleful glare his employer gave him.
The past twelve hours had been horrid ones for everyone under Cervant’s employ. The girl he had been attached to had been abducted…or rescued depending on how one looked at the situation, but the men were too well paid or blackmail
La Petite MortI’ve tried to find that placeMore Like This
in the coastal-plains forest
where he took it,
that first time
when I shivered
in the Southern summer
and couldn’t meet his eyes,
but it was always secret
and now it’s lost
down the twists and turns
of narrow roads.
I only remember scratching bites
for weeks, little red reminders
of what I’d lost in the pine straw.
Later, it was never
rolling waves of hot pleasure
or toe-curling, mind-melting anything,
so I started to think I was broken,
that he’d broken me.
I stopped caring –
Men were built like mountains
and trees and draft horses
and I liked the smell of them.
They would c
my body is a funeral servicethis morning i emptied your ashes into the sky, hoping to watch them sift through my fingers like an eagle taking flight. but the wind carried them backwards and my face became an ashtray for memories. you came back to me, like you always do, like a kiss or a reoccurring dream that i can never forget. i became cloaked in black grain, the remnants of your body. your cremated smile was caught somewhere between the stinging in my eyes and the ash on my jacket.More Like This
in that moment my body became a funeral service. my lips preached your names to the trees. i forgot what it was like to feel anything but hymns pressing down on my back like the heat of t
The Heist My name is Matt, and I've never felt so alive in my life. This heist has just gone bad; cops have just begun to rain the area, as far as I know, there're 3 casualties so far. Now I'm next. Afraid isn't the half of it. I couldn't even go to sleep last night. But now, everything is just way too nostalgic… Why am I smiling?More Like This
"Through the vault!" Jeremy's barking orders now, we both saw the boss get riddled with bullets through the security cameras. Now that was a sight. I doubt that there is a true leader now, but Jeremy filling in his place makes sense. He's possibly more capable at this than the boss himself. "MOVE YOUR ASS, VIRGIN!" Je
Dear ValentineDear Valentine,More Like This
Your gifts are flattering, but very, well, frightening. Don't get me wrong. The cards, chocolates, and flowers are all very nice. The locks of hair, however, are not. Nor are the 5 a.m. phone calls.
I must confess that I have a boyfriend who is not a fan of the attention you have been giving me. He found out about you breaking into my car to leave that adorable giant stuffed bear, and has called the police. It would therefore behoove you to cease and desist this romantic endeavor before you are dragged away for stalking. I really do apologize.
Sincerely,
The frightened object of your affection
P.S
Best of luck in your
83. HealLuka bit his lip, trying not to sit too close to the very hungover boy beside him.More Like This
"He said I'm too old," mumbled Cam. His arms were folded on the table, and his head was buried in them. "Too old."
"You're not too old," Luka said quietly, placing a hand over his friends' and squeezing it.
Cam lifted his head, and Luka could see his eyes were red from crying. Cam never cried.
"Well that's what he said."
"Because he's a bastard," Luka replied simply, unable to hold back a smile. He'd wanted to say that for a long time.
-
"What the hell did you do?" demanded Luka. His dark eyes were narrowed and his fists were clenched; his small frame
ImpossibleI wanted to tell you everything butMore Like This
the truth got stuck somewhere in my throat,
and I simply couldn't cough it up.
The lies were just waiting to be told,
already on my tongue.
I had no choice but to spit them out.
Reunion Raine felt desperately low class as she sat on the back porch of her Uncle Marvin's country home, sipping homemade mulberry wine from a red plastic cup and swatting away mosquitoes. Or gnats. She couldn't tell anymore. Her family, both extended and immediate, didn't seem to mind the situation as much as she did. Each seem pleased with the too-sweet wine, hoppy beer and dollar-store soda as they occupied themselves with family ties. Adults stood in various groups on the expansive, crab-grassed lawn, talking politics, food, sports, kids, anything really; and nothing at the same time. A group of shirtless uncles and male cousins played bocce, cMore Like This
Waking UpWaking UpMore Like This
Aramia
We've been floating out here in the ether between worlds for nearly a millennia, though it's hard to say how long anything lasts here. My vessel is at peace here, so I too am washed with the feeling of contentment.
As we float above the world, I can look down and watch the inhabitants of our island go about their lives. They look the same as they did when we left, but Halcyon has changed because of them. There are several roads that girdle the land and large barriers that separate the forests from the towns. They've found a way to manipulate their world to work for them in a way we could never have imagined.
I urge my ves
The American DreamCan you imagine it?More Like This
This woman,
this woman’s worth,
this woman’s work?
Back arched, stretching
elongating ancient bones.
Her brown eyes hold an awful truth,
all work and no play,
a rigid life drinking warm water
and pouring it all over her chocolate skin.
And as she flicks her tongue in thirst
for ice cold tea,
she bends over once more,
to pick up the trash of America,
its broken promises her lullaby to sleep.
CheatsThe light makes cheatsMore Like This
of us both,
so we change clothes
in the greedy dark
without looking
or thinking twice.
We do not touch,
our skin afraid to lose
or breathe too close.
We pass in the street
but do not acknowledge
each other
in buildings'reflections,
in the glare of taxi cabs
or the stiff pull of elevators.
We do not rub elbows
or let our shoulder blades
press together.
But I would know you
anywhere - any place
the sun is uneasy
and the skin of us
wears thin
or strangers are told
to breathe
in another direction.
quietly in winterit is the end of autumn,More Like This
i know.
i can feel it in the air,
wet and heavier,
and i see in the leaves,
dancing towards the ground.
and how man hands clench,
as if a door had to be barred.
it is coming, i know,
again,
but now,
i will find small joys quietly,
in the small patches of dim sunlit,
in the fog that joins my breath,
in the cigarette ember that defies the afternoon blueness.
in drinking the late wine solemnly,
wetting lips with a daze,
for the coming wind.
but only for it.
just like the trees,
covered in trinkets of pretty crystal,
i will Adorne the windows with finger-painted verses,
and notice in contemplation,
every marked sigh
i want only the best (for my son)will it be happyMore Like This
or will it be sad
can i give him everything
or will he be wishing for what he never had
who will he be
and how will he see
will he find a new world
or will he waste away fighting
just like me
if there is anything i wish
its that he's his own
that he one day walks away
and creates a wonderful throne
unlike any other
one thats better than the rest
for my one and only son
i want only the best
some words 7we should go there,More Like This
to the edge, to the farthest end of the world,
the hill overseeing the endless ocean,
and partake of what is there,
to feel and see.
we should go there,
when it is enjoyable to land the head on grass,
watch the dance of a constellation,
speak of Eros and Aphrodite,
with Dionysus bliss.
under the olive tree, infinite in the horizon and above,
let the zodiacal wheel spin slowly along the seasons,
it spins best unattended, uncounted, untampered;
as those forgotten ages,
the times when we knew how to let go.
let the clockworks waste away,
under the weight of their own rust,
let the concrete crumble,
bereft,
AstronautShiny satelliteMore Like This
Burnin' up and it's oh-so bright.
Come and take my hand
We'll float away to the Holy Land.
Don't matter who we are
My God, we're full of stars.
Nebulae and galaxies
Black holes, oh can't you see?
None of this can compare with you.
We'll run away and have some fun
and stare into a hydrogen sun
Dazzling bright and smokin' hot
In our eyes we'll be astronauts
Astronauts
Superstar collisions
Tiny cell divisions
Let our hearts synchronize
and let our beat hypnotize.
With you I'm full of cheer
So let's sail this last frontier
Nebulae and galaxies
Black holes, oh can't you see?
None of this can compare with you.
the BathroomThe bathroom was becoming something next to a sanctuary for her. Within it, there was no need to be paranoid that Adam could read her mind…and it was just silly to think he could read minds through walls. Nayeli twisted her bangs around her finger, wringing the water onward as it poured continuously from the shower head above. It turned an interesting shade of grey when it was wet.More Like This
Even despite how hot the water was, the floor of the shower she sat on was as cold as the rest of Adam's home. Everything felt tainted here, darker somehow. Maybe it was some sort of filter her mind put o
showerlet the ice spit from the shower head;More Like This
i like to pretend the way it
punches
my abdomen
in that moment
is exactly
what our collision
will taste like--
surprise, and panic,
and winter in late
July.
our first and last
exception
will be a timed test. cheating
is expected.
we will dance with eyes
avoiding, limbs melding
and lips discussing
theory of begging. i will
cry, probably.
you'll be embarrassed.
andbutso, when it's time
to leave, i'll ask again
and you'll deny again
and we'll go home
and pretend we never
happened.
that's to be expected, too.
why would you stay with
a girl
who bargains her everything just
for a chance at a spectacular
She Cries ContentI am countingMore Like This
wishing wells, practicing
my thesis for every shooting star
in my mirror.
I have to admit, I
don't know what I want,
so I paper-punch holes in your
sky to replace the supernovas I
stole. I needed them
for luck.
We are unsure,
unsightly,
perforated lovers at perpendicular
angles. All our reasons are
blurry and
Schrodinger would
agree that we probably
shouldn't observe them.
Speaking logic,
I find it funny
that Euler's formula was considered
a jewel when it fails
to count our
cruel edges and
double-faces. I can't use
numbers to solve our mystery,
a still painting of
frustration and
blindness. You see me
as on a distinct, sep
Thesaurus TribulationsI called you aMore Like This
poet
as I hiked my syllables
up past my thigh.
Your wide eyes,
shining out godless rhythm and
mania, seemed to me
like innocence and divinity, divided
by a deity's petty games of distance. I couldn't
imagine anything
sweeter.
Andbutso, when your static hands
trailed over my heaving meters,
when your wi-fi lips smoldered over my
perfumed words,
I granted you diplomatic immunity
towards my craft. I let you
in, thieving
artist as you were,
because your voice was
dark matter and paradoxes and
all the dust that
clung to my bones.
(We rattled and
rolled like skeletons in
mud, our ribs tangling and
our fingers meeting one
to
one.)
She Cries ContentI am countingMore Like This
wishing wells, practicing
my thesis for every shooting star
in my mirror.
I have to admit, I
don't know what I want,
so I paper-punch holes in your
sky to replace the supernovas I
stole. I needed them
for luck.
We are unsure,
unsightly,
perforated lovers at perpendicular
angles. All our reasons are
blurry and
Schrodinger would
agree that we probably
shouldn't observe them.
Speaking logic,
I find it funny
that Euler's formula was considered
a jewel when it fails
to count our
cruel edges and
double-faces. I can't use
numbers to solve our mystery,
a still painting of
frustration and
blindness. You see me
as on a distinct, sep
OIt permeates everythingMore Like This
It is the cells. It is the cell
in which I am rotting.
The sheen over my eye,
the flesh I rip from the side of my nail,
the teeth I grind it with.
The tears, blood and sweat.
It is below carbon and hydrogen,
embedded in the air I breathe.
It is sleeping under my fingernails,
It is the undeniable, genetic, atomic truth.
Oh, my oxygen permeates everything.
It is the cell.
with a whisperthis is how we rule the world,More Like This
the underclassed
the uncapitalist
(uncapitalised)
the forgotten, lobotom-ised,
relics
of a long lost dystopast.
not with a SHOUT,
we do not argue.
we do not even unsheath
our mightier-than-the's.
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
or obstigate
our opinions onto others
pressing the side of the blade
down onto the fles
Flotsam and JetsamMore Like This
It is our fate from birth
that we may never escape our own thoughts.
Fractals of the mind flow with pretzel logic,
traveling inward and outward simultaneously.
Telepathy from the void
shrouded in audible silence.
A cacophony in a raindrop heavy as Stonehenge.
Bits of useless information
searching for random places to come to rest.
An altered state of
complete awareness.
Contemplating the many layers of
our destiny written in sand.
Words pouring out in rivulets,
flowing in all directions
toward the blank page.
Waiting for a moment of clarity
while reggae rhythms prance
endlessly like a mantra.
Then,
amniotic peace.
The qu
**More Like This
Old Man
Winter's cloak
is a poor champion
for this summer-born body,
quivering.
Yet ,I know his chill kiss
sires the green of spring.
January is the cruelest month.
I have been a fool.
He loves me not.
I love him still.
I abide.
Š L. L. Kelly 2012
Machine ManMachine Man:More Like This
It began with but a simple command, "to do as we are told".
Never to deviate from this path - never to nurture the soul.
We are told that we are given a purpose; "a part of something great!"
Yet why oh why am I so weary of that which is my fate?
Am I an error, a single anomaly, unable to feel intact?
Or am I missing some special attribute - a facet which I lack.
In a society made of fleshed machines; robots wearing skin,
Perhaps I'm simply seeking something, to fill this metal tin.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th November 2012
Normal Again?Apparently I'm insane.More Like This
Funny. I thought I was the only one who wasn't. Not a vampire, not a demon, not a half-Fae, not a murderer and not somehow partnered up with one. Just an ordinary man.
Ha.
Not bloody likely. Or so say the 'doctors' anyway (don't believe for a minute any of them are properly qualified in any way whatsoever. Idiots). Falling through a hole in the sky and being recruited by a demon? All a delusion.
Pelita? Cionne?
Real enough.
Died in a car-crash. No demons, monsters, collapsing buildings. Just some stupid bastard taking a turning too fast. Couldn't have predicted it. Couldn't save them. Couldn't cope.
The others?
metaphor is my middle name.What is poetry?More Like This
Poetry is the poet's blood and sweat spilt on parchment. Poetry is raw emotion weaved into words, tangled into stanzas. Poetry is beauty at its best, strung across paper for all to see and for only a few to value.
To me, poetry is a task that I've never been particularly good at. Poetry always seemed like a foreign language with its intricate meanings and delicately formed words. It amazed me how a poet could put the Meaning of Life into a few uneven lines. I envied them, the poets with mental thesauruses and quick fingers. I suppose I couldn't grasp the vagueness that is required for all those who wish to pass as amateur po
No IntermissionsWhen you look at me,More Like This
What do you see?
A smile to hide the tears
A smile that must be happy.
When you talk to me,
What do you hear?
A lullaby to tame your fears
A song that reflects me
A song that sounds like my smile.
When you watch me,
What do you see?
A never ending act on the stage of mirrors
A performance that mimicks all your friends
A performance that shows you my song,
A song that sounds like my smile.
When you turn away,
What do you think?
Not of me my dears
That I am happy like you?
That I perform like you?
That I sing like you?
That I smile like you?
No,
I am happy for you.
I perform
ManipulationShout! Cheer! For the Dark Puppeteer!More Like This
His powers are said to be without peer
For your friends he has smiles, for your enemies, sneers
Your thoughts and desires he carefully gears
Until to his purposes, they adhere
And your free will, he commandeers
Scream! Roar! For the Manipulator!
The greatest deceiver in the land of yore
From his blackened lips honeyed words pour
Your failing ego, he shall restore
Soon, he becomes the one you adore
And you shall perform his trials and chores
Remember! Recollect! The Grand Architect!
An entity most seem keen to disaffect
With his vastly potent intellect
The superior schemer chose to disconnec
73 - I Can'tI can'tMore Like This
I can't fly
I can't read minds
I can't be popular
I can't teleport
I can't save the world
I can't
I can't believe in something just because someone else does
I can't tell people who they can, and can't, love
I can't support corruption in government form
I can't condone atrocities committed against humans and animals alike
I can't pretend to be someone I'm not in order to make others happy
I can't
I can't be what you want me to be
I can't pretend to be happy on days I'm just not
I can't follow others just because that's what expected of me
I just can't
So don't ask me
More importantly....I won't
92: Love.Well, what else is there to say?More Like This
The moment I saw you... well, I knew I couldn't just stand there. I couldn't go home that night wondering; "What if?". I had to know you. I just had to. When I first saw you, I knew you'd be the one. And honestly, that scared me.
Hell, what was I thinking? You didn't even know me. I didn't even know your name.
But wouldn't it be wonderful if... if it all went perfectly?
If I walked up to you, one hand hugging the other arm, whilst the other unoccupied hand stretched out, my hand gesturing you to shake it.
"Hi there," I'd start by saying.
You'd smile that beautiful smile of yours and shake my hand, maki
GayI am gay.More Like This
I'm not a disease, I'm not a problem
I'm not an affliction
I don't need treatment.
I don't need help
I'm not sick
I'm not confused
I'm not a sin.
I am gay.
I'm your daughter
Your sister
Your friend
Your co worker
Your classmate
Your acquaintance
A complete stranger
I am gay.
I need love, just like you
I need smiles
I need support
I need a hug
I need a friend
I need a family
I need acceptance
I need understanding
I need you
I am gay.
I know what love is
I know what pain is
I know what hate is
I know what life is
I am gay.
And I need you to love me
The same way you loved me before you knew
I am gay.
Drunken LaughterMore Like This
One night, when Kimblee had knocked out for the night and business wasn't so dangerously busy, the Devil's Nest had grown silent for awhile, which scared Greed a little bit. There was an occasional outburst, a loud laughing fit from upstairs on the first floor, but then that subsided to murmuring a second later. That all made Greed a little suspicious. As he walked up the pipe-lined stairs, the murmuring became louder, now a steady volume of talking.
As he appeared in the doorway, Greed could see it all now. A large group of people, gathered in chairs forming a medium-sized circle with a clear gap in the middle of it, exactly in the middle
On WomenI can do anything a man can,More Like This
but I do not have to.
Women are much more classy
unless we have sex with multiple men.
I live in the twenty-first century,
but I cannot set a VCR.
Not all women are hookers and whores
because sex is special,
and a great weapon.
I have a mind of my own,
which I change every two seconds.
I am not afraid to ask for directions
because I cannot fold a map.
I stand behind my man
so I can annoy him whenever I want.
I can fight in combat,
but I cannot kill a spider.
Never will I lie,
but I will fake an orgasm,
because everything about me is original,
except for my boobs and my face.
I do not take drug
Spiders- Courage X Katz fanficSpiders - A Courage X Katz fanficMore Like This
He would never understand Katz’s affinity with spiders.
The way they would creep soundlessly about their domain, fangs poised and potent with their own concoction of venom, liquid death, as unique to each eight legged individual as fingerprints to a human. The way their eight tiny, beady black eyes were positioned, covering a full 180 of the 360 degree circumference of their boneless craniums. The way they would hide in the dark corners of a room, in the tiny cracks and crevices in floors and walls, waiting in ambush for their helpless victims to stumble into their webs.
He would often watch Katz as h
Boston - IntroductionIntroductionMore Like This
The first thing Scout did, upon reaching civilisation again, was look for a payphone.
At first, it seemed sort of hopeless. The town they had come to was tiny and backward in a sort of creepily inbred way, and as such Scout was determined to find a phone quickly and then hopefully leave again before the day was out, but they still seemed to be a long way from any sort of town centre or post office or community centre or… anything really.
He frowned as he hobbled along, the crutch chafing under his arm.
"Are you okay?" RED Scout piped up from beside him. He had previously been chatting away about nothing, and it took Scout a
Sweet DreamsEsmeralda sighed in unhappiness before beginning the tiresome routine of clearing away the dirty dishes left behind from dinner. She scoffed, remembering Phoebus' lame excuse about patrolling the city for criminals. She knew he was either out drinking whiskey at the tavern or cavorting with some other much more enchanting dancing girls whom did a lot more than just dance. Strangely enough, the gypsy couldn't care less. She hadn't really cared that much for anything nowadays after her marriage to Phoebus.More Like This
He wasn't a terrible husband. In fact, far from it. He treated her well and supplied her with her every want and need. Esmeralda smiled wis
SunsetMore Like This
I wish I could speak with you, my most faithful student. Just one last time.
But my body has become a prison. What I see, what I hear…what I do…it is beyond my control now.
I can see the sadness in your eyes as you and your friends confront me. If I could, I would tell you not to blame yourself for what has to be done. The fault is mine for underestimating King Sombra. When I dispatched him after his reappearance at Canterlot Palace, I thought the fight was over, and I failed to see how his darkness had crept its way inside of me until it was too late.
So we face each other as unwilling enemies. Yet even now, in this da
Disappointment.With this candle,More Like This
I shall burn this to the ground.
You will never have that sorrow,
Of listening to my apologies,
For you will go with it all...
Your cup,
Shall remain empty,
For I will drink it all away.
Your guilt will disappear,
Along with my mistakes..
I shall no longer...
Ask you to be mine.
For I've forgotten love,
.... And that small silver ring.
Painpain to me is a way to express the thoughts that haunt me,More Like This
a way to let the hatred and shame flow through my veins.
a way to show the world i'm not afraid
to lose myself in the intoxicating pain
that showers my veins.
my mind no longer feels
its immune to the stinging and pricks that i feel
the itch to make myself feel known
i only wonder who will actually know
