I've lost my mindAs I'm sitting in the forest that is peaceful and silent, I close my eyes and let my mind wander. What would happen if time just slowly slowed down and completely stopped? What will happen if you had time to smell the flowers? Would life continue even though time is frozen as ice, would life be peaceful if you only knew what you're missing? The winds picked up around me as sit and wonder about simple things. As a soft yawn escapes my lips; my mind slips away into the world of dreams. The trees rustle knowing what is happening, the animals start to move around and about. My mind starts wander even more than before bringing me deeper in my slumber, my body starts to sink in the sand, being wrapped in the roots. My mind is still wandering around above the ground as my body is fully absorbed by the Earth. My mind will never know the truth because it will always be free to be what it wants to be.
RoseI'm on my knees weeping above a delicate red rose; my hands are bleeding from it fallen thorns and each tear that I shed a single petal falls away. This rose is all I have left but yet I can't stop it from dying, I have gave it everything and yet it doesn't grow or spread, I have chopped down the trees around it to give it light I pulled the weeds from beneath it to give it space and yet here it is slowly dying and there's nothing I can do to stop it slow and painful death, so here I am on my knees dirty and scraped, why I yell at the Gods, why can't I keep it alive, as I get up my final tear falls and lands on one of the petals, and that petal wilts away to dust, and I realize it is me that kills it not the land, I stumble away crying knowing what I did cannot be undone, my hope crushed and dreams gone I try and live on .More Like This
Requests! -closed- I am really psyched to draw because I finally got a new sketchbook-More Like This
soooo I will be taking 5 requests
Only traditional colored sketches.
I'll draw pokemon, animals, anthros, people c:
;;w;; I really want to draw/color- but i don't have any ideas-
Don't forget to send me a refrence C:
High MaintenanceRoses are red, Violets are blueMore Like This
Doesn't that line just sound cheesy to you?
When I open my card, I hope to find
an original, sweet, more creative line.
All that you do, is scribble your name
at the end of a poem that's genuinely lame!
Tut...roses are red, violets are blue
Do I look bloody colour blind to you?!
You didn't even write it! It came with the card!
Poetry isn't exactly hard!
Sweetheart, I love you, really I do
But I coulnd't care less that violets are blue!
Couldn't you have made an effort this time?
Coz I'm getting real sick of reading that line!
Most girls love romance, well I do for sure!
Tu Peut même parler français pour proclamer ton amour!
That would be different! That would be sweet!
Come on baby, sweep a girl off her feet!
I'm not asking for much, just some more va va voom.
Love doesn't have to be shown in the bedroom!
why i never wrote you a poem.last summer i triedMore Like This
to use the words that you fell asleep to
to write you a love song but
every time i tried
my fingers froze up.
i failed the test of describing you
in a paragraph
in a sentence
in a word
there is nothing in my head adequate enough
to describe how you look
on the train station platform
when you smile at me.
i can tell you that
my heart climbs into my throat and
my body prickles with heat and
everything disappears, for just a moment, but
the thing i cannot describe
your mouth caresses my name
like it’s the most beautiful sound
it’ll ever know,
like it understands me perfectly,
you are not made of verses.
you have no meter.
you are not written in stanzas
that i understand
and i find myself captivated
at how beautifully complex
your language is.
you say i’m the mesmerizing one, but, baby,
you've stumped me.
you have left a girl,
a person who wants to build their life
go to sleep for the love of godi kind of feel like ripping my face off.More Like This
it's not one of those sad, suicidal stories. i mean, if i believed in suicide in the way that means i could do it, then yeah, it would be. but i don't, and i guess you're kind of lucky for that because now you can go to sleep with a clear conscience.
i won't ever tell you about how many pages and books and scraps of paper and unsent text messages and notes on the backs of my hands i've written for you, or how inarticulate you were when you wanted to say how you felt. i won't ever tell you how i wished for a few words that could tell me that i was loved, even a little, and i sure as fuck won't ever say that when you managed to pull a few words together for some girl you haven't even touched, well, i won't ever say that all i feel like doing now is unravelling the skin on my arms, down to the bones, and watch as rivers of red fall out of me like stars.
maybe i'd be beautiful enough for you then. i
Valentines Day PoemPassionless saints tie our lips togetherMore Like This
and I crush our voice in my hands
Lift the nape of your neck
and breathe you in, hush
(you fill the air).
pass through us
while the night stumbles
You dream in a dark
and I drift helplessly
finding words at midnights
to memorise for you
only to keep them locked secretly
with love on my tongue.
You are my love letter
curling naked in the heat
your spine beautiful and bare
as our unlaced feet.
Our shadows touch
a leaf falls on itself.
pink dusk spreads across the sky
farewelling the dark storm
of your hair across the sleepy pillow.
The sound of you breathing
echoes in my chest.
I collapse you in my lungs
like a script
madness takes us with love
and holds us close.
A whisper into the coming sun,
flowers of colour
that melt soft over the sky
like the blush of you
Lipstick stains and thoughts of youLipstick stains and thoughts of you,More Like This
Wishing for things that I could do,
Because sitting here isn’t enough,
I thought you weren’t serious,
I should have called your bluff,
A box of all my favourite things,
Photographs and your mothers rings,
Left the threshold before I could carry you through,
Now only lipstick stains and thoughts of you.
How to kill a masochistIt had been a cloudy afternoon; it had been four days already in the cottage at the lake. For a week, the sun had not shone as bright as expected, and the wind blew especially strong today. The mountain regions had been almost perfect for his health, almost. Amadeo stood under the threshold of the front door. He closed his eyes solemnly, to grasp some inspiration; he breathed in the bittersweet smell of autumn in the outskirts of a deserted evergreen forest. And he coughed blood.More Like This
Amadeo looked over his back. The lantern still had oil; it shone what the sun had not. The chimney invited him politely to come in, as to escape the cold outside. He walked to the metal desk and sat on the old wooden chair (an unsightly combination that had run down the family for three generations, which did not make it much of a family treasure yet [he did not pretend it to become any, either]). Slowly, he took out the glasses out of his pockets and put them on. He lit a cigarette and put it in his mouth. He
MasochistI am the words you hearMore Like This
that make you tremble
that make you break down
You know you want me
The little tiny bites
on your neck scream
you love it, you love it
I am the panting
you wake to in the night
The seductive agony
oh sweet suffocation
A little bloody mess on the floor
but I know you want more
A Rose in the Ocean -Intro-Introduction/Author's NotesMore Like This
Do you sometimes feel that you are just another fish in the "big blue?" Everyone does, I would hope. Everyone should feel as if they are tying to be someone that they aren't in some way. If you are like Emilee, or if you are a popular person, even if you are the type that was never really popular, but always an individual, you should enjoy these poems. They can teach a lesson about popularity and life, and they may even help you figure out something about yourself that yourself that you have never known.
The poems in this "novel" will help tell of how one girl wasn't just a fish in the ocean, but a rose; an individual. The poems start out when she is just a zombie, following and fooling everyone. She followed the popular kids around like a lost puppy. This is her story, the story of how she realizes that she just isn't herself anymore. All of the st
ARitO -Part Three-A Look on the InsideMore Like This
I have gotten
Attention as the days have rolled on
I'm starting to discover things about myself that I never knew.
Who my true friends are
They aren't those fake girls
That's for sure.
My true friends are the ones that were my friends before I changed
And the ones that are still beside me now.
I'm gaining more and more friends as the days rush by, however.
I suppose that I've influenced other people because they too
Are tired of the
I'm happy for the ones who have discovered themselves
For the ones who haven't I have hope
Hope that they will find
Their true selves
And be happy with that one person that they truly are.
ARitO -Part Two-The Colors of the WindMore Like This
People continue to stare at me
Not for the same reason as aforementioned, however.
I have changed.
Back to myself
I slip into some baggy jeans
And a large shirt.
People say "she's lost it..."
I say "she's lost it, but now
She's gained it back."
I don't think they understand.
They've been the way they are for their entire lives, I imagine.
They drag any unsuspecting person into the game.
My mother has cheered up a little since I've become myself again.
She thinks that her lectures have had some effect onme.
But they didn't.
I was tired of the game of charades that I was playing.
That was all...
The wind that had picked me up was none other than myself.
ARitO -Part One-The Rose, the Fish, and the WindMore Like This
I'm popular, I really am
I'm beautiful, envied, spoiled.
All anyone can see of me though is a girl who
Flips her hair and scoffs at anyone who passes her
But I wasn't always this way
I used to be a rose, thorny and stubborn
But nobody like me. I was the girl who people called
"Tree hugger," "freak."
They laughed. I went home and cried cried cried.
The next year was different. I had changed.
I hate skirts, yet I was wearing them.
I am a tomboy, yet I was acting prissy and girly.
I'm someone I'm not, someone I don't want to be, and I hate it.
The ruthless wind had picked this rose up.
The ruthless win had withered the rose
Now she is
A fish in the ocean.
Liana's over powered victimMore Like This
Liana over powered Beth and put her in a tight fitting devil costume. She sits at the camp fire, waiting for Beth to be voted off. And Chris gives the signal to Beth to leave to the Dock of Shame, broad the Boat of Losers, and leave. Liana's happy.
Rivalry at ChillisCaylin:Hey where do you want to go eat?!
when they walked in.... they saw chris at the counter!!
All:WTF?! CHRIS WHAT ARE U DOING HERE!!
Caylin And Kelseyoooh no! youre not staying chris!!*picks up Chris and throws out window** chris hits a parked car*
Cheff:YOURE GOING DOWN!!!
Izzy:WEEEEEEE! you needed me?
Cheff*Looks back and forth*uhhh....GRASS ASEMBLE!!!
Izzy:beat up cheff
Cody:Hey!!Why am I not talking!!!
Narator:Well idk!!u just in the corner..
while the narrator and cody were talking caylin and kelsey got tide up with....EXTRA EXTRA STICKY DUCK TAPE!!
Cheff:now that u two are tied up...izzy gone...lamas free....you wil be my....SLAVES!!
Caylin And Kelsey
~Flow of Life~~Flow of Life~More Like This
"Through the act of co-individuality, we harmonize with nature's equilibrium;
observing the flow of life as is, not as the anti-flow dictates it to be."
The reason will be given with which power originated.
As we arrive towards realization, we come to learn that ideas originate through reaction.
After eloquent inquiry, we know that suspicion does not lie on the idea,
rather in the inherent ~susceptible~ corruption.
We have the chance to observe it from its origin.
By birth of the structure of power, we can differentiate with greater perception:
Natura and anti‐natura.
Administrators were being named, who without a shadow of a doubt:
were, are, will be individuals capable of love and compassion.
Consequently, into drawing came a plan to be followed,
which through the eyes of the creator‐ seemed to be efficient.
As the administrators were given the responsibility over what is acceptable and what not is;
came into ev
WishbonesI came to find you.More Like This
Im asleep in the doorway,
my eyes blurring.
A streetlight flickers.
I came to find you.
At the moment, he is
a stinking silhouette,
a haze of moonlight and rolling tobacco.
Then my heart stutters
and I swallow my tongue.
I came to find you,
I thought I could forget you
when I blink,
my eyelashes whisper your name
to my irresponsible ears, who always listen.
So, I wrote you letters.
But, everyone writes letters,
so I tore them up and scattered them
like ashes, in all our favourite spots.
I made a playlist on my iPod,
of all our favourite songs.
It was like you were dead.
I thought that might help.
Remember, we used to share dreams.
When I stopped dreaming,
I thought you really might be gone.
I got scared.
I scribbled eyes on my chest
(in that blue eyeliner you left)
so I could use my real eyes to watch my back.
I built myself a hell that settled in my gut.
A hell of missing and loving and starving.
Did I tell you I stopped eati