DreameaterI can do things many people didn't think they could do. Really, everyone has the capability to do what I can do. I don't have any mystical power, no supernatural ability, nothing out of the ordinary.More Like This
But when the time comes, and something has to be done about another person, I can use this thing that I can do so well to help that person. I can say a few things that make them say all these other things.
Before they know it, they've given me all that I need and I can use that to my advantage. I can use their own information against them or to their benefit. It can be a terrifying weapon to wield.
All I do is use their information. I speculate the origin of that information and attach images to it. The images, in turn, are fed back to the source. The images, vague at first, begin to take shape in the person's mind. IN the mind, they are familiar and the brain begins to figure out in what way they are familiar.
And when they go to bed, when they are fast asleep and dreaming, the images are
Observations of the small Outside there are people whispering. Talking. Yelling. Even though their voices are rising in anger the sound is still muffled by the walls. I press my ear to the crumbling black paint. Dust rises up, dancing in a cloud above my head. I shuffle my feet and the floorboards give a quiet squeak in response. But even though the voices are clearer I don't get it, because my mind doesn't understandMore Like This
I'm like a clock, my brain is always ticking. Ticking like the clock at the top of the tall, black walls. Ticking like the sound of crickets outside my window. Ticking like the steady ritym of people running on the streets. Ticking, thinking, constantly trying to figure out what's going on, but I usually fail, because I'm just too young,
I'm in a room with tall black walls. A tinged yellow window framed with moth eaten curtains. Gnarled hard wood floors. There's a clock on the wall, three min
.He breathed out, watching as the smoke that escaped his lips dispersed in that particularly chilly morning to further join the equally grey sky. He didn't know what was up with New Jersey, but the weather was always terrible.More Like This
He coughed slightly, probably due to the fact he had been smoking more often lately, and not catching enough sleep. He replayed the recent events that took place in his uneventful life while going for his second cigarette of the day.
He had heard Marshall had failed the Academy, for whatever reason. Said blond had a hard time justifying himself, and albeit having laughed it off at the time, he felt saddened now that it had dawned to him just how severe the issue truly was.
He wasn't disappointed; after all, with his historic of education, he had no right to be. But he wasn't happy either.
Now would be a good time to consider leaving Orion's ass alone and move in with him, he thought, then smirking incredulous as he exhaled again, a small cough for emphasis of his
WingsIcarus eats his breakfast in front of the TV.More Like This
Balances his Wheaties on a butter knife
Big and strong on jagged silver cliffs.
On cloudy days, he watches fireflies
Blinking in Morse Code,
Hollering help to the tree sap they're trapped in.
He scoops ladybugs up in the crook of his elbow
To count their spots backwards,
To ask them where they've been.
He doesn't understand the morning news.
He feels it like a nosebleed,
Like a thick intrusion,
And when the worry clots on his lip, he trembles.
He says, "Papa, I wanna paint the world for you,
But it just won't sit still"
Icarus doesn't want to be in charge of hiding the universe from itself.
He's sick of kicking people out of his clubhouse.
He's got sixteen feet of imagination
Wrapped around the war monsters in his closet,
But he still can't imagine why the quiet is so tragic.
He can't figure out why he's got to hold his own hand
On the subway.
See, Icarus watches the world like an opera in ancient Greek:
He feels the words but he can
StuckThe walls are crooked. Nothing here is straight. The pictures hang at strange angles, the walls look like they are falling in and even the floors are sloped. The lights don't work, and there is a draft.More Like This
My ankles and elbows feel strange. The hair on the back of my necks is standing straight up. I feel like I can't breathe.
It's dark, but I can see everything. It's like I have been here all the time and know where everything is, but I also feel like I don't belong here.
I feel like I'm not wanted here and that whatever does belong here doesn't want me here for very long.
But, I don't know where the exit is. I don't know where the doors are. I don't know if there are any windows. I pinch myself but I might be too afraid to feel it.
Unless I'm stuck in a.
In The Beginning...~More Like This
Everything has to begin.
A beginning, where most stories start and many more end but this is the beginning, the beginning of everything, in which there was absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Not a plane of white nor a sheet of darkness, there wasn't anything that could interpret it as either because there was truly nothing. Unimaginable nothing.
Until there was something
It began with the sky.
They called it a Bang but it started with a Whisper. A wind that blew everything to the far corners of what mortals billions of years later would call the Universe. Immense expansion that shot the smallest bits and pieces across what was now a visible and infinite dark, ripping in colors that even now do not have names, in lights to bright to look at, fires that could burn the heart out of you if you didn't shy away. Then, after the soft whisper that starting the Everything came the Roaring. Gravity began, taking the infinitely small and forming huge floating nebulae,
love me, hate me."Do you love me?"More Like This
He stared. Another one of his odd, senseless questions. He had a thing for those. Like that time he woke him up in the middle of the night to ask if he loved people as much as he hated them.
He didn't seem surprised, however. Which didn't intrigue the other, presumably younger male, who responded with his typical smug look.
He had always been the serious, sane type. Very observant and technical; if something didn't make sense to him, he very easily discarded it.
So why hadn't he tried to get rid of him as well? After all, sanity and common sense didn't necessarily check up in his list of attributes.
Maybe because lacking those very things the other demanded made sense in him. As if it were unnatural to imagine the redhead with any ounce of normality.
Hypothetically speaking of course. After all, normality was a human's privilege.
He fidgeted his fingers in his pockets, the movement causing the wall to suddenly turn freezing to the new areas of his back that had
Choose Your Name“John Brant,” I whispered, and a dashing British gentleman appeared in my mind, arrogant and suave as the slim-fitting Italian suit he wore. He sounded classy, not overly pompous. But there was just something about him. He could be the cool confident charmer I was looking for. But he could just as well be a stiff stocky soldier with his pride shoved far up his ass.More Like This
“John Chase,” The name rolled smoothly off my tongue. Another man took form, both the same and different from the first. He was just as charming, perhaps a little lower in class with a bolder tongue. And was that a little mischief I saw in his eyes? Undoubtedly, he was smoother than the latter. He could work. A common name for a common man. Maybe a little too common. But he could work.
“John Davies,” I frowned, my eyes still closed as I wrinkled my brow. This man was full of question marks. Unlike the previous two, I couldn’t picture him quite as clearly. And I wasn’t su
I am not summer personifiedDo not compare me to a summers day,More Like This
I'm an autumn baby, with fallen leaves,
Printed in gold and amber across my skin,
With the deepest red sunset lips,
Offset by snowy skin.
I am the crisp breath of wind,
On oxygen starved lungs.
Forget the call of the heat,
And fall into my mist embrace.
Murder in the First, Second, and ThirdThe first time it happened, she was drunk.More Like This
Kissing in his bed, hands locked on his face, how difficult would it be? Phone on the bedside, the password his year of birth and high school jersey number and all she’d have to say was that he was going to spend a few days at her place. His roommates would be disappointed but not surprised. Break your heart, break your heart, that girl’ll break your heart. But none of them would count on this, no one would notice until he didn’t call his father or the unfamiliar smell of human death crept into every reach of the apartment. Keys in his pocket, cutting into her thigh, she could take them and head for the coast. Head for the border, even, and slip away. If she got caught, she’d claim she had no idea what was happening when it happened. If she got caught, she’d smoke cigarettes in prison and cut her hair short. If she got away, she’d never think of him again.
She bit until she tasted blood, and then rolled out
Mollusca1.More Like This
Find whatever it is that is your treasure.
Bury it alive.
I wrestled the guardian angel for my birthstone,
just a pearl like some full moon risen from a mollusk's growing pain.
I counted the sheets of nacre like birthday candles,
peeled away each one until I at last remembered
that what I treasure is an infection.
It was a gentle kind of wrestling,
not Biblical, not even assertive,
more like the way two sprite wolf cubs play,
a light lunge, a jovial snarl,
a fight over nothing in particular.
The guardian angel renounced itself
as a guardian angel, said
I am a siren.
I lie in the tunnels of nautilus shells
and sing until I collapse with the echoes.
Then it hurts, like a shard of the wrong song
embedded in my skin.
It never healed the ache of adolescence,
just buried it under a fall wound's nacre.
Said one day, it'd show up in my smile.
On the day of the dewinging:
bury me alive.
I want to see what I can agitate the earth into.
FirefighterI'd always known what I was going to be when I grew up. Not everyone has that kind of clarity at such a young age, but I did. I was going to be a firefighter. I knew it the very first time I watched Fireman Sam - he was my hero.More Like This
I couldn't understand why people laughed at me when I told them of my ambitions. Even my father, who'd always been supportive of me before, patted me patronisingly on the head when I told him. "Yes, yes, and your brother wants to be a ballerina," he chuckled.
I didn't understand that. Ricky certainly did not want to be a ballerina. He wanted to be a masked vigilante. I knew because I'd overheard him talking to his friends the other day, but I didn't say that. There were certain things that you just didn't do, and correcting my father was one of them - I'd learnt that the hard way.
Ricky didn't approve of my ambitions either. I told him that he was the one being unrealistic for wanting to be a masked vigilante which wasn't even a real job; he just
To Fry a MoonfishI. Selene vomerMore Like This
Insert knife beneath the tail.
“We need to talk.”
Draw knife toward head.
a flicker of the eyes
a dash of hope.
“It’s not what you think.”
Open abdomen with fingers.
he draws her away
to a brick wall
and delivers the blow
“We can’t be together.”
Pull out entrails.
he twists her guts
confuses her instincts
before ripping out her heart.
“This isn’t working out.”
Rinse the inside of fish.
“Oh, god, please don’t cry.”
Remove head if preferable.
II. doofus fish
if you leave her right,
she’ll fillet herself—
every beautiful you ever kissed
—into her neck, her skin, her heart—
she’ll try to separate herself,
her from the skeleton self you built
until she’s mere sheets of meat,
lying limp in her own arms
let her te
The Redacted Qur'an (Excerpts)I THE EXORDIUMMore Like This
IN THE NAME
Praise be to
the straight path
of those who have gone astray
80 HE FROWNED
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
He might have sought
to purify himself - but that
wealthy man remained to
cleave asunder the thickets,
to delight in each brother;
each of them beaming,
smiling, joyful, face veiled
88 THE OVERWHELMING EVENT
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
Have you heard
of men, worn out, drinking
from a bitter gushing
fountain, soft silken carpets
spread, and Heaven leveled
to their account?
90 THE CITY
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
I swear you
are a created
91 THE SUN
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
The sun and the moon,
the day, the night spread
Him with knowledge of sin:
"Blessed shall be the man
who kept pure ruined pride
when Allah's own spurge razed
the city. He was afraid
Dead Bodies Don't Cryi.More Like This
You are born with twisted feet
and a pockmark on your chest.
Your poor mother is drenched in sweat,
straining to breathe,
thanking God that it's over.
She cradles you in her arms
and kisses your forehead with curved lips.
Your father reaches out to hold you
but has to pause because
your mother will not release you yet.
The family pays a visit,
hovering in awe, praising, laughing.
You look around for someone to blame.
When you learn to write
you use all the wrong letters
because you feel sorry for the ones
that get left out, like X and Z.
And you wear mismatched clothes
because you don't like the idea that
only certain colors "go together."
The first time you are punched
in the face it is by a girl with pigtails and braces.
You're sitting on a swing,
digging your toes into the dirt,
when she approaches
and says she thinks you're weird.
You tell her she's even weirder, and her fist
goes sailing into your jaw.
You're red and sore for two days.
You meet your first crush
The Gentlemen's Alliance #1Mr SensibleMore Like This
Mr Sensible likes his coffee flat and dark, the same tongue-searing temperature every single morning. He gets up before the birds do to have his shower, and thus always smells of a mix between roasted coffee beans and that strange almond stuff he uses for his hair. He is clean shaven, and his hair doesn't flop down over his face. He looks his age and acts his age.
When you first meet him, you don't like Mr. Sensible much. But he can carry good conversation and he admits he has a smile he saves just for you. He never has to chase you because unlike most men he can keep up. You go out together without the company of others as friends at first. He shows no romantic interest in you for ages, until one day someone tries to ask you out and he slips his warm hand into yours.
Mr Sensible always has time for everything because he's always a little bit early. He has time to zip up your dress and compliment you on your looks. He doesn't shower you with affection because he knows it si
loving in secretYou wander through my dreamsMore Like This
gifting me with a smile or two
between the nightmares
and while I know I know you
I cannot say where I met you
or why I do not know your name
I only see you in small glimpses
but I know already that I love you
even if we cannot speak
and I will carry this burden with me
until the night when you stop
and I finally take your hand
Dear AmericaDearMore Like This
I love you
more than bar soap. More than luxury.
I love your love handles
and clinical depression,
your obtuse, Freudian self-analysis,
searching for what's missing
in Chinese Apothecary
I love the way you lie to yourself,
your worship of the higher-ups
while you preach democracy.
I love that you scorn yourself
and put others on a pedestal,
you have no traditions
and try too hard.
I love that you never
bought me flowers or made me CD's,
everything you said would be different this time.
I love that you wanted to plan a life for us
but couldn't even keep a date for the weekend.
You made me strong,
you taught me how to give up.
water swanlistening to two peopleMore Like This
falling in love,
a thin wall like paper wings
between their one heart
and my own,
i can't help but imagine
you & me.
with all these halogen lights burning,
i'm going to catch fire
in your eyes.
i went down on the river,
a water swan,
hoping for a heart
& a hand to hold.
you said you don't mind
my emotional baggage,
it's pretty like my lips.
that is when i told you
i love you.
that is when you didn't
let me go home to sleep alone
a love letter from erici am writing a letter to-day. i want to put jenny on paper, a girl with a heart like a lion and eyes like an elephant, big and brown and sad. i want to put the way i loved her into words, big and bold and sad. i want to write about the way she caught her hair between two fingers in the wind, the way she tilted her head to the right when she was thinking, the way she smiled with only half of her mouth. i wanted to write all of that, i want to write all of this:More Like This
the way her hair smelled of lilacs and strawberry. the way her shoes shined like diamonds in the black of night. the way her skin yielded to my hands with the gentlest of pressures. the way she looked at me with soft eyes when she told me she loved me.
it feels like my spine is dissipating, been pulled straight out of my back, with every second she leaves me behind.
jenny told me she doesn't love me anymore to-day. i am writing a letter for the express purpose of lighting it on fire, hoping that the ash will catch wind and she wi
Maybe.Sometimes we begin to love another,More Like This
the only thing keeping us at bay is our brain,
'it'll never happen' 'you're too fat'
'or maybe, just maybe'.
A lot of the time we forget how this happens,
how we managed to let ourselves fall,
'it'll never happen' 'you're too fat'
' or maybe, just maybe'.
Our minds start conjuring up scenarios,
hugs and kisses and sweet, sweet smiles.
'it'll never happen' 'you're too fat'
'or maybe, just maybe'...
eric and valerie and loveher name is ellie this week. last week it was jane. the week before, julie. kate. breanne. cindy. anna. vicky. dina. leslie. talia. rebecca.More Like This
they all blended together -- eric loved a rainbow of women. their skin was tan but not deep, and not cream. their eyes were not blue but not brown. their teeth were not straight but not crooked, not white but not yellowed. they were indistinguishable and insignificant.
except valerie. the closest eric came to loving was valerie. she was beautiful. that's why he couldn't love her.
his heels caught fire as he cast a shadow along the west coast. he was a cloud of smoke and heroin. he was lightning with tennis shoes. he was a natural disaster. he stopped in chicago to light up, in detroit
Christmas DaysThe little girl sits by the fireplace, waiting for Santa Clause.More Like This
Christmas lights twinkle in her eyes.
Her favorite ornaments dangle freely on the tree.
The clocks nearing midnight,
and her eyes begin to droop.
"Time to go to bed, sweetie," her Mother says.
"No. I have to stay up and see Sant-" is all she whispered before she fell asleep.
Waking in her bed,
the little girl rushes down the hall and into the living room.
Presents wrapped in red and green are piled under the Christmas tree.
Her brother, five years her senior, is tearing open every gift with his name.
Present after present there are smiles and laughs until they're all opened.
Everyone still filled with glee,
the little girl sees a small,
rectangular box wrapped in gold and silver behind the tree.
Crawling on her tiny stomach,
she retrieves the gift.
On the front is a tag saying, "From: Santa".
Carefully, she unwraps the box and slowly opens it.
Inside is a small, heart charm on a silver chain.
She, filled with enchantment,
Better Left Unsaid.You'll be a lawyer-More Like This
I'll be a writer.
You'll probably make more money but-
At least we'll both be doing things we love.
And we'll live on a farm,
Just like you always wanted and...
I want to marry you-
I can't imagine myself with anyone else.
But you don't know that.
We'd both laugh if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
I can see us staying up late...
Watching kiddie movies and eating chocolate ice cream.
And having candle lit dates on our bedroom floor-
Taco Bell, of course.
And on winter evenings, we'll curl up on the couch...
With hot chocolate...
As I read aloud to you-
From a book of my choice, of course.
But you don't know this...
You'd think I was weird if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
And one day we'll pick out a huge chair.
A chair for cuddling.
And when I'm sad-
You'll hold me in our chair...
And we'll both stay real quiet,
Taking each other in.
And eventually we'll start to talk-
Quiet murmurs at first...
I am eight years old.I am eight years old.More Like This
My lips are perfectly pink. They don't need to look glossy or tinted redder. My cheeks don't need this, either. My eyes stand out well enough on their own without being lined with black paint. The mascara weighs on my lashes and makes me tired and itchy. This shit on my eyelids shouldn't be there, either.
That was a bad word. I am afraid to say bad words, but I've got a few in my head. My friend told me that the word "bitch" means "female dog," but I think she's wrong. I don't think I've ever heard it used in this context. Actually, I think it's a word for people like you. I say this to you with my eyes. You threaten me because you hear me loud and clear.
Every other weekend, I have to sit here and endure as you put this shit on my face. But that's not why you're a bitch. That's why you're an idiot. What makes you a bitch is the fact that you expect me to be silent and still every time your hand slips and the curling iron burns the top of my ear, or you
WanderlustI've been sleeping with my jeans onMore Like This
and seatbelt unbuckled,
So I can leave early
before my regret wakes.
In the check-in, on the road,
I distract myself
Walk, go, leave
go further, leave again
I like my life
I never meant to break your
(steady and warm)
But truer ways of joy I found
on the road,
in long railways and stranger tongues
And I'm sorry that we never
Quite catch up with each other.
I never loved goodbyes,
but I love leaving all behind
In the movement I found tranquility,
easing for this burn.
Don't think I'll be able
To ever forget you, no
You're like Venus in the nightly sky,
guiding with your sulphur burn -
you left a mark in me,
in the air I breathe
Though we never quite catch up,
we never quite meet.
And it breaks my heart either way;
I don't want to leave,
but I cannot stay.
Don't Talk To Me "I'm sorry," I said, and meant it.More Like This
She nodded, her expression unfathomable. "Me too."
There was a long pause.
"Just two days ago," I said quietly, avoiding her eyes, "we couldn't even be in the same room without going for each other's throats."
She turned away. "Yeah," she admitted. "But look at us now."
I continued, "And just two months ago we were the best of friends. But look at us now." This time I looked directly at her, smiling mirthlessly.
"But look at us now," she repeated. Her voice was bitter.
I didn't know what to say. We both stood in silence for a while, pretending to listen to the babble of subdued voices from the graduation party.
"You know," she spoke suddenly, "there's nothing about how life is today that I'd have predicted during our last years there." She
Text Messages to No OneHey haven't talked to you in a while.More Like This
==>save message? y/n
I saw that you got
==>save message y/n
Its been a while.
Maybe we could hang out?
==>save message y/n
Wow, I cant believe it's been so long since we talked!
What happened, do you think? Lets talk and
I miss you.
==>save message y/n
Today I thought about that tree in your backyard.
And how we used to climb it to get on the roof of ur garage.
We had some good times.
==>save message y/n
I havent been up to much. Got a job, finally.
I feel all grown up and shit. Still a bit lonely here,
But I'm sure that'll change.
==>save message y/n
Thought about you again on my way home.
It's hard to keep track of all these messages.
Have I told you about my job? I don't remember.
It's cool. Boring. But c
Thought about u again on my way home
Its hard 2 keep trac
Stationery Pt IStanley loved stationery.More Like This
He loved the way it smelled when you stripped away the crinkly cellophane wrapper. He loved the Spartan beauty of an unspoiled pad of paper (A4, plain, 80gsm). He loved the sound of a cap crisply clicking onto the top of a Biro. He loved the texture of a freshly-sharpened pencil and the flake of the finely-honed graphite point. He loved gazing over stacks and stacks of untouched Post-Its, each a perfect square of yellow, an army of ideas awaiting orders.
He loved everything about it. Stationery was neat. It was orderly. It was always needed, easily replaceable, and something that everyone can appreciate.
Stanley reckoned he had the best job in the world. Working in the post room of a three-storey insurance company, Greenlight Insurance, he was at the very nexus of stationery for the whole building. Letters would come in crumpled, dusty and worn from their journeys; and go out crisp, freshly franked and printed, ready for the adventure ahead. Deliveries of new
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t biteMore Like This
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
if you need help making it through the dayremember:More Like This
She Was With the StarsThe amber girlMore Like This
was preserved perfectly
and her silky hair and porcelain skin
gleamed like a doll's
But the scientists weren't able to keep
her soul burning
because though she was in the
glass case filled with chemicals and fluids
and they were desperately trying to pump
oxygen into her lungs,
her mind was still up in space
with the stars
So the sun was extinguished
despite the cries and mournful screams
because they had
and the many who looked up
at her light and glory
slowly began to rot away
And so not a single thing was solved
he cried because no one cried for himI found Death crying in the alleyway underneath my apartment window. He crouched, shaking and whimpering out his little mouse of a cry that was muffled by the rumbling cacophony of city night life. He didn't make himself seen and, like the child he was, huddled down and hid his face with his mitten-covered hands.More Like This
Death made eye contact with me as I watched him from the fire escape. He stared with bright blue eyes perfectly framed with long eye lashes. The chill bit and reddened his nose and cheeks, and his tears left frozen paths of black ice against his face. I didn't mean to, it was an accident, he pleaded with me.
I watched him as he shamefully picked up his victim, a tiny little kitten that was half frozen and curled tightly into itself. He tried to stroke it back to life, begging and pressing the small animal into his plush winter coat.
I'm sorry, he lisped, wiping snot onto his sleeve as he cradled the corpse like a beloved baby doll. My eyes followed his tiny
Grave Robber's DowagerThe people of this town were just waiting to die. That was Maggie’s favourite thing about it, there was always business. Her husband used to go out at night and dig up someone who wouldn’t be missed. He’d have the body on the table in the basement before midnight. Maggie would strip the corpse of its clothing and its valuables. The clothes would be washed and resold, the valuables pawned off or kept depending on her mood.More Like This
Her husband would clean the body up and just as the very first rays of light were creeping over the horizon, a man with a cart would come by and take them away. It was a good living. Maggie and her husband were comfortable and proud of having such an efficient business.
Normally, the work never got to Maggie, but every so often she would buy a candle or a leather purse and wonder if it was someone she knew. That was silly of course, but every time it happened she couldn’t shake the feeling of ghosts hanging around her for days. Her husband unde
A lesson in realism:you areMore Like This
There is no such
thing as stardust
floating in your veins or
gloomy poetry stitched
right into your heart.
Your blood is made of
iron - unbreakable,
unbending and unmatched
by any other stronghold,
for you are a fortress
that they will never invade.
wipe those tears away
and know that
you are the only one
who can reinforce these walls.
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.More Like This
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
Missing PersonsI live in a world of fear.More Like This
I am not the only one who is afraid; no, every person here fears the night, if not for themselves then for someone they love. Mothers fear for their children, husbands for their wives, children for their sisters and brothers. No one fears for their friends; no one has friends anymore. No one dares.
It wasn’t always this way. I remember days before the fear, before the world was so paralyzed with its own terror that it forgot how to live. I remember walking through a park after sunset just for the pleasure of it. I remember being late for an appointment without anyone beginning to plan my Memorial. I remember life before people began to disappear.
It started slowly, coming on so gradually that it’s hard to say when it became normal for people to vanish on their way to the grocery store, or while walking the dog. Suddenly it was completely ordinary to see houses fall derelict, their owners mysteriously vanished somewhere beyond our reach.
Undressing PoetryShe clothes herself in poetry,More Like This
seals her skin within the verse.
Each line becomes another garment
that conceals her fixed form's curvature,
but peels away when read.
Last night I dissected a stanza,
clamped it tight between my teeth
and tugged it down her legs.
Her body breathes warm and sweet,
speckled red like a summer strawberry field.
I sucked the juice from her lines and
spit the punctuation like seeds.
My lips mouthed the shape of her words
as my skin grew more sticky with
every splash of imagery dripping down my chin.
I peeled apart her soft pages
with sticky, pink fingertips that left them
clinging to my skin.
A single flawless line remained
between the cloak of poetry, her and me,
so we spoke the words in unison,
revealing everything and setting her verse free.
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisMore Like This
Do not assume (if I hold the door for you),
that I am making a statement
about your inabilities
to open the door for yourself.
If you hold it for me,
I'll say 'thankyou'.
Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),
that I am underestimating
your earning capacity
as a woman.
If you invite me out for a meal,
Do not assume (if I defend your rights),
that I am belittling
the attempts that you have made
to defend your rights yourself.
If you defend my rights,
I'll consider you human.
Gamer.So, you want toMore Like This
Life count drops
The sweaty buttons
Sticky under practised
Click click click.
Moving on. Blood
Swatting away the
Bang bang bang.
Fuzzy pixels swarming
Forming the tiny person
A twisting maze of
It's safe here.
Would you like to Save?
.i offered salt to theMore Like This
sea, heat to the sun, and
love to the moon; they
told me, this isn't enough
i offered my soul to
the devil; he said yes,
this will be just fine
A Poet's RomanceShe was the quiet sort,More Like This
within her eyes,
to pottery skin;
she would mold herself
into moonlight butterflies
and glist'ning calla lilies,
pure and white and
and when night cast
itself upon her in
heated, hard'ning flames,
she’d smash herself
upon the rocks
and in morning start
Google's PrayerMore Like This
Our Google, which art in Wi-fi
Quick be thy search.
Thy results come, thy buffer be done,
On Bing as it is in Chrome.
Give us this day our daily updates
And forgive us our spelling
As we forgive those who butcher English grammar.
And lead us not into Apple,
But deliver us from Siri.
For thine is the Wi-fi, the processor, and the Android forever.
At the Turn of the YearMore Like This
sunda sora aoi mizuumi fukami keri
the blue lake.
hi kara hi e soutairon no toshi owaru
day after day about the theory of Relativity,
a year approaches its end.
basu tei ya dondon mawaｒu udedokei
the bus stop-
wrist watch whirls in a haste
ningyou no tsuya wo kabuseru hokori kana
covering the gloss on the doll-
obscuring the glory of a puppet-
soujiki de hokori mo neko mo kake ni keri
the vacuum cleaner-
chased away the dust
The Big Leather-Bound BookDolores Umbridge yawned and stretched under the thick green and silver comforter. She strained her ears for sound, but the girls' dormitory was silent. She parted the heavy green curtains which surrounded her four-poster bed and surveyed the room. The other beds were empty. Her roommates had already gone to breakfast.More Like This
Dolores' gaze rested on the large, long-haired orange cat which was snoozing at the foot of her bed. She swiftly grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and yanked it towards her. The cat made a wild, desperate struggle to elude her grasp, but it was all in vain. He had been declawed and his teeth had been filed down. Resigned to his fate, he gave an angry growl as the girl squeezed him tightly to her chest.
"Oh, Mr. Binkles, wasn't that nice of the girls to let me sleep in! They are so considerate! I'd better hurry and get dressed or I'll miss breakfast."
Dolores swung her feet over the side of the bed and slipped them into a pair of fluffy pink slippers which
ManifestAh, me leg,More Like This
I shall miss ye,
Latest of the lost.
Aye, ye be Davy
Jones' lass now,
Me pretty, me foot.
Fer a chain shot
While I were topgallant.
With me left hand
And me parrot Jim,
And much o'
The lee side o' me face.
I list a bit now,
An' I've lost me sea leg,
So I'm thinkin' now's time
To leave the Pirate
Round an' head for Barbary Coast
With me coffers t' find the
pretty lass I knew when I was
But a wee thing.
If she'll still take me,
Perhaps I won't even miss the sea.
In the shoes of an AspieIn the Shoes of an AspieMore Like This
Note: This is my experiences and thoughts on what it is like to be an Aspie. I understand others have their own experiences and opinions and I respect them for that. The reason I wrote this was a hope that those who read this gain some understanding as to how people with Asperger's live their lives. However each person is unique so their behaviour and way of life may be different to mine.
I wake to the sound of my alarm going off. I groan Ugh not again... I grope for my mobile and switch it off; the alarm is rather noisy. Here I go again; having to put on that masquerade; going undercover yet again. If only people would just understand what it is like to live the way I and many others like me have to live each and every day ..
Just imagine yourself living in a world where you see and deal with everything differently. Put yourself in the shoes of an Aspie; a person with Asperger's Syndrome. It's a high-functioning form of Autism. It's hard to
Give Me a Sign"A few more weeks and we are in the best time of year," Buford exclaimed as he walked out of the classroom with his friends. He, Baljeet, Phineas, Ferb and Isabella raised their fists into the air and shouted in unison: "Summer Vacation, Baby! Wooooo!"More Like This
"Oh, I have so many plans for this summer," Baljeet announced as he pulled out his agenda. "Aside from perhaps taking another university class at one point, I was going to go visit Mishti in India for three weeks." He hugged his agenda and looked at Isabella with a grin. "Oh, I cannot wait; I have not seen her for three years, now. It will be just like old times with her! We have already planned out every day!"
Isabella smiled at him. "I'm really happy you can go and visit her finally, Baljeet," she said. "I know how long you've been saving up your money."
"Yes; for many years. My parents agreed to pay for my summer classes if I worked to pay for the trip myself." He looked at the two inventors as the two stepbrothers stopped at their lo
passerbyraspy voice, like a demon begging for mercy. she wasMore Like This
always a broken melody,
with no corner pieces.
i can see her,
drenched by the truth in her own
words, "i am just
a crack in the concrete,
by the footsteps
of people like
Retraction of ChlorophyllLonger nights,More Like This
and shorter days,
Sinking towards the horizon,
the sun stretches itself against
pulsating veins retracting
from margins to petiole
An Apple for the TeacherHer name was Miss Mills. She was twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, and my son was a student in her first ever kindergarten class. He fell in love with her on the first day of school. He never told me this, of course, but a mother always knows. He came home that first day and he sparkled as he told me everything that had happened, how Miss Mills had read them a story from a brightly colored picture book and how he had hung on her every word.More Like This
"And I want to get her an apple," he announced.
"An apple?" I asked. I was peeling grapes for his lunch the next day.
"Yes," he said, "it was in the book we read today. The kids, they gave their teacher an apple, and I think it would be a nice thing to do."
"Alright," I said, "we will get some apples. Any kind of apple in particular?"
He thought about it. "A big red one."
The next morning he marched off to school with his big proud apple held delicat
Crevices of my MindWandering lonelyMore Like This
Lost within the crevices of my mind
Running through my thoughts
Trying to escape
Shards of memories and broken hearts
Eating my bare feet
Salt water rivers
From my own eyes
The only nutrition I received
Torturing myself with
For a way out
Through the steep valleys came a voice,
Deep and calm,
Shaking the ground
I ran to it
Watched wide eyed as
The thoughts I had come to know so well changed.
They filled with a beautiful face,
A loving smile.
In the cold, I felt an unfamiliar warmth
Through the fog reached a hand.
It so gently took mine
And pulled me closer
There was the beautiful face
The hand brushed my hair
From an astonished face
Touched my tear stained cheeks
And kissed my salty lips
The fog swirled around us
I welcomed all of it with open arms
And will never let it go
The rules of staring into spaceGive me spaceMore Like This
I want to behold the universe
devoid of light
take the stars and drown them for me
extinguish the sentinels
and murder the gods
remove the chaos equation
in favour of perfect oblivion
WinterfallShattered lonely silken pearlsMore Like This
Silvered lace of moonlit stars
Ride upon the eddying whorls
And make their gentle sleep unmarred
uselessi must have rippedMore Like This
a million petals from
thousands of flowers
to see if you'd come back
when you didn't
i shoved them
as far down
the garbage disposal
BoomLeave me breathless in the dark cool waters of my dreams where just the tiniest lights flicker with the flames of a million stars.More Like This
My heart beats heavy blending with the beating of drums.
There are no emotions.
Burn me, till the world around me vanishes and I can see.
Let me live
PrayerGoddess ArtemisMore Like This
Help me, I don't want to hate
I am your warrior
Grant me thy strenght.
I stretch my hands to thee
Please remember me.
Open upThey all tell me to open upMore Like This
But everytime I rip apart my chest
People get so scared of all the blood and bones
And they all run away screaming
Lament of the CageThe cage long realizedMore Like This
as long as the bird
remained its prisoner
It would never be free.
Define 'Good'Think about the classic cartoons... With the angel and the devil each sitting on one shoulder, pleading their case. In these scenarios, the positive and negative outcomes fitting of our societal conventions (outside of black butler) are greatly exaggerated. Follow the devil and fail, follow the angel and succeed. But this isn't always how society works. And just because of one bad action, a person cannot be instantly categorized. The true motivation behind the action is just as important, if not considerably more important than the action itself. This does not justify such actions, but it goes to show that even good people can do bad things in bad situations.More Like This
Two things motivate our actions, incentive and drive. Incentive satisfies drive; it's light at the end of the tunnel. Incentive is doing the homework you don't want to do in order to get a good grade. Drive is the need or want to do something. Drive is why you eat, why you drink. As long as one is high enough, the other can be low
Build Your Own New World Order Conspiracy Theory!1. Who are the villains in your theory? Choose one or more of the following.More Like This
-Skull and Bones
-Council on Foreign Relations
-Jews(If you don't wanna sound anti-semetic,just use the term "International Bankers" instead)
-Bohemian Club and/or Bohemian Grove
2. What's their progress so far?
-Already control the world
-Trying to take over the world and they must be stopped!
3. How are they gonna take over the world or reveal that they own the world? Choose one of the following.
4. What other evil things are they gonna do/already doing? Choose one or more of the following.
-Bring the Antichrist to power
-Persecute Evangelical/Fundie Christians
-Bring about sexual immorality
-Fabricate/Create global warming(If you chose this,read up on question 4a.)
-Brainwash us(If you cho
Czech history - for OC makersMore Like This
Well Hello there. I'm Hoples and those two are Female and Male Czech representation for Hetalia. As you can see there is lot of difference. Mostly in their posture. Do you care about my explaining? You should if you want to understand WHY!
Basically Czech nation is known for being feminist orientated. I must agree. There are lot of tales about strong and famous women in history. For example:
Lady Libue: First fuller of Czech tribe. Daughter of Grandfather Czech who led according legends Czech tribe in their land. She and her sisters (she had 2 of them) were known for having magical abilities. Libue herself led Czech tribe for long time (then she married). After her death all women in Czech lands rebelled against men and almost won.
Last descendant of legendary Lady was woman too. Queen Elika Přemyslovna. Last of original Bohemian Ruler dynasty.
As you see there is lot of famous Czech ladies even now. Lot of Czech models have married famous men and so on. F
Conlang Outline Info-Template2Name: Name of the conlangMore Like This
Native Short Name:
A Priori or Posteriori?:
Isolate or in a Family?:
Inherited Language Features:
How Many Numbers?: sing/pl=2, if you add more, the number increases. It's usually two or three, though I think it doesn't go above 5.
Predominant Affix Type: prefix, circumfix, general affixiation?
Variable or Absolute Suffixes?: Huge changes in affix through sound changes or just minor?
Morphosyntactic Alignment: The Morphosyntactic Alignment
Primary Word Order: Default Word Order
Alternate Word Order: Alternate Order
Head Position: Head initial or final? "the grey suitcase" or "la valise griese" (the suitcase grey)?
Language Type: Synthetic, Agglutinating? Polysynthetic even?
Secondary Type: Secondary dominating type. English is Isolating, then Agglutinating
Different Registers?: yes/no
Amount of Registers:
Types of Registers:
How Are They Formed:
Conjugated? A simple yes/
AlmaarianName: AlmaarianMore Like This
Native Name: Almártungur (lit. Almar-tongue)
A Priori or Posteriori?: A Priori
Isolate or Related?: Isolate
Which?: Singular, Plural
Native Script?: Yes
Predominant Affix Type: Suffix
Variable or Absolute Affixes?: absolute
Primary Word Order: SOV
NOTE: V(S)O is used in slack everyday speech, but VSO is used after a conjunction.
Basic Syllable Structure?: (C)(C)V(C), (C)V(C)(C) or (C)V(C)
Stress Position: The last longest vowel sound within the stem of the word.
Affixes or Particles: Both, although particles are more common.
Number of Cases?: 5
Which?: Vocative, Nominative, Dative, Accusative, Genitive
NOTE: Nouns are ordered in a sentance as above. An example of this is:
“Cordorn left Calae’s cup on the table”
Cordorn an tovarsa tason Calaern luvend.
Lit: “Cordorn on the table the cup of Calae left.”
NOTE ON WORD ORDER: Almaarian
I despise people.I despise people.More Like This
People that pick on the weak.
People that still think you own you.
People who cant see their own flaws due to complaining about others.
People who puts jerks before love.
People that cant see the truth and what will happen.
People that know who I am talking about and will ignore everything I have said.
Those people I despise.
Those people cause wars and violence.
Those people know who they are.
Bossing the week feeding off the poor.
And I m not even talking politics or major people.
I am talking people in your own home.
So fear all, despise all, trust no one.
Marent'aa OutlineName: Marent'aa (Marenska)More Like This
Native Name: Marent'aa
A Priori or Posteriori?: A Priori, is based off of Polynesian languages. Takes no direct influence from them.
Isolate or Related?: Isolate
Which?: Singular, Plural
Native Script?: Yes
Predominant Affix Type?: Suffixes (Word repitition and [-])
Variable or Absolute Suffixes?: Variable (Conjugation)
Primary Word Order: VSO
Basic Syllabic Structure?: V(C) or (C)V
Stress Position: First Syllable (First syllabe of both words if word repitition is used)
Affixes or Particles?: Both
Where?: Added with [-]
Cases?: No (Bare minimum of case differentiation required, as in English)
Pronouns?: No (Suffixed into verbs. When addressing people in present, past, or future context, their names are used)
Gender?: No (singly definite article for all nouns)
Adjectives Agree with Nouns?: No, since there is no gender system to agree with
Oh art thief, oh art thiefOh art thief, oh art thiefMore Like This
How you’ve brought us all to grief.
How can you be unashamed?
When you stole from people unnamed
How you think about your own fame
Just like others like you playing that game
How you feed off us
How you live on others success
How can you sleep at nights,
Knowing you infringed other’s rights?
How can you enjoy this fame,
Knowing it rightfully belongs to another name?
Do we also carry the blame
That we blindly follow someone’s claim?
To the people that believe everything humans say
To you I say good day
We must always question what we are told
Or we can start to be controlled
By vicious lies and such
To me that is just too much
So She ThoughtMore Like This
Renee sat alone drearily staring out the window of the small classroom. It was raining outside and she was dreading the walk home. Her parents didn't care about her at all; at least they didn't show it. She didn't know any family members nor did she have any siblings. All she had was her best friend but she wondered when the universe would take that away from her to. Her friend was deathly sick; constantly in and out of the hospital. Poor Renee was only eleven years old and had already felt a lifetime's worth of heartbreak and sadness. She watched the clock praying the old saying would come true and time would stop. She stared blankly at the blank paper on her desk. They were told to draw how they felt so she didn't do anything to the paper but draw a small dot in the middle.
Lost in thought she never heard her teacher release the class. She just sat there quiet and unfeeling. Her teacher didn't say anything at first, knowing she walked home every day, she just moved around
Profile: Princess Ophelia of House HohenzollernMore Like This
Name: Ophelia Nikoletta von Hohenzollern
Age: 26 (born January 13th, 1900)
Spouse: His Serene Highness Prince Louis Alexander of Battenberg (Emperor-consort and Großadmiral of the Kaiserliche Marine
(1900-1926) Her Royal Highness Princess Ophelia of Prussia
(1926-????) Her Imperial and Royal Majesty the German Empress, Queen of Prussia
(1900-1926) Ihre Kaiserliche und Königliche Hoheit die deutsche Kronprinzessin, Kronprinzessin von Preußen
(1926-????) Ihre kaiserliche und königliche Majestät die deutsche Kaiserin, Königin von Preußen
Born on a particularly cold winter day at the turn of the century, from the outset Ophelia's life was dominated by Imperial duty; her father being absorbed with managing the Great Eastern War (1897-1922) and her mother being relatively poor at parenting. Thusly the girl was left alone most of the time, learning proper etiquette and the things
NecrophiliaShe knows that somewhere along the line something about her changed, but that won't stop her because she is invincible.More Like This
But even invincible people can shatter, can't they?
Au bout du fossé, la culbute.
Pride comes before fall.
It's hard, he would tell her. It's hard to live in a world where society is what it is. She would stare at his eyes as they filled with this sort of emptiness that she knew by heart, the piercing green fading into a dim peridot. He would lightly finger the wide leather bracelets that covered his wrists and it gave it away to her all too soon.
She didn't even need to see the glimpse of puffy and reddening skin around the bright scars because she just knew.
And before she could form some sort of jumbled thought in her head, the bell would ring through her ears and he would be walking, walking, walking away from safety.
Feelings turn into thoughts. Thoughts turn into words.