verticalMore Like This
grey clouds of death
my final breath
has come to rest
summer,spring, winter and fall
seasons of sin has destroyed us all
flowers resume, yet humans are consumed
we are suppose to be here, stricken with fear
but life has struck among us
all that is left is lust
the lust to live, survive and become a memory.
PotentialMore Like This
It becomes fear when you know that your never coming back
it becomes fear when you have to use everything you lack
it becomes fear when you have no encouragement
it becomes fear when you see everything you resent.<i>
Secret Santa Suprise for Chibi-kisameTitle: Hot Chocolate Kisses and Marshmallow WishesMore Like This
Fandom: Um Naruto I guess.
Genre: romance, humor, drama, general.
Warnings: None really it's pure fluffy love!
Summary: When a snow storm blows up and traps in Itachi and Roraku what can they do to kill the time?
Disclaimer: I don't own ANY of the characters. Roraku belongs to the awesome, epic, adorable :iconChibi-Kisame: and Itachi belongs to Masashi Kishimoto!!!
Emerald eyes were dull as they took in the sight from a frosty window. The world was a white, swirling oblivion. Nothing past the heaps of snow that were just under the window were visible to their search. Letting out a groan, the girl made her way away from the depressive sight and back to the couch. Her lover glanced up at her from where he sat curled up in a corner of it with his book.
"Getting worse?" He asked, flicking his onyx gaze to the panes.
The Time GuardiansMore Like This
...as I rounded the bend I stopped suddenly in shock. There, slap bang in the middle of the road, were two doors, virtually identical in style and size except that one was black and one green. They glowed brightly with a strange iridescent light that spilt out across the tarmac like blood gushing from a wound. It both disturbed and fascinated me.
Stunned, I dared to take a step closer and no sooner had I done so, two women dressed in black peered out from behind each door, as if my movement had triggered them into action. I gasped, half in surprise, half in horror, when I realised that they both looked exactly like me.
"Who are you?" I heard myself whispering hoarsely.
The me from the black door smiled, although it seemed mocking somehow. "We are the Time Guardians," she revealed in all seriousness and it was unsettling to realise that even her voice sounded like mine. And I represent your past.
The me from the green door merely nodded, seeming more guarded. "And I represen
A Poem For Terrible PeopleI am easily twenty pounds overweight,More Like This
and my soul is a couple hundred under.
Everyone else has this heavy thing
that sits in their stomach and tells them
that they’re alive. I think the only reason
why mine hasn’t floated out my ear
yet is because my throat is blocked
by a coal of self hate. Maybe that is
the thumping I hear, my spirit
screaming. I always thought
it was my heart beat.
I can’t tell you why I am here,
and I can’t begin to explain who I am
because I know I’ll start to cry,
and I am trying to save up my tears
for something that’s socially appropriate
to cry over. Like a mass murder
or uplifting trending video on facebook; not,
definitely not because your succulents
aren’t arranged in the way
you wanted them to be.
I’m an ametur gardener
buried half alive in my own
half hearted attempts at having some
effect on this world. My arm
reaches out and paints my own
plot pot with a chevron design
in Robin’s egg blue.
God, I wis
PreferI prefer her naked,More Like This
in a not so sexual
almost always sexual
way and when she
lays on my bed after
I make her come,
she stares up at not
and I know
I made her
and that’s enough
I want to go home
but I’m still deciding
where that is.
She wants to go anywhere
as long as it is not where
she’s been before.
I frown and collect her
pages upon pages
of poetry from floor;
she moans for me
to come back to bed.
She gets along with my cat
and if that’s not true love
I don’t know what is.
I prefer her with her back
to me, in a not so vulnerable,
almost entirely vulnerable way.
I want to fuck her symmetry.
Her spine is something an artist
created when he wasn’t looking;
her ribs are like the ocean
and I want to die
in the undertow
like a scared child.
I am a scared child,
and she is