The Man without a FaceHe stares in a mirror through eyes clogging tears
a smirk persisting alongside; a dead, worthless sneer.
He stares hard yet recognizing not the man he sees
recognizing that man is a desperately elevated dream of his
He wonders if his deeds - reflected - are right
he betrayed his friends, he abandoned his wife
reasons always lurk in the pits of the mind
yet so dark? At times his cynical heart reclined.
He smiled on insults and laughed in disgrace
he knew not what he was so he altered his face
with each turn and bend, with each traffic light
his face twist and turned, losing remnants of sight.
A con you could say, no one pronounced his name
he beamed when spat at; he felt no shame
He would pose a victim, he would express pain
he then shall betray that companion, again and again
Yet if one ponders with reason, the fault is not his;
not knowing purpose of life created what he is
so he adapts like the crops that adapt to the rain
all he does is adapt to what shall bring him gain
A corpse no
DreamsDreams are merely dreams...but sometimes they reflect your deepest desires, don't they?More Like This
He stole my breath away.
He was a stunning being, a mix of a man that I could not easily describe to you. With ebony-black hair and stormy gray eyes, he captured my heart in an instant. At times he would tower over me, lovingly, his presence nearing mine, and I could feel the warmth from his body.
"Sometimes I wish I could just steal a smile from you," he murmured easily. "Write you a love poem. Give you roses. I want to love you like love from the past."
I blinked, and smiled slightly back at his beautiful face. "Why the past?"
He shrugged, then he stared at me defiantly, with the Mexican pride I knew so well. "Love from even a generation ago, it was different. An innocent love, a subtle, tender thing that was cultured from a simple fire. And it grew into a tremendous passion, showing a respect of sorts. I want to show you that I love you, not just tell you. I want to appreciate you, respect you
10 Things I Wish I Could Tell You1.More Like This
Didn’t you ever find it creepy while we dated?
You were 14 and I was 17 at the time.
That’s a pretty large age gap.
Thinking back, it’s pretty fucking weird that I was ever in love with you in the first place.
A few years older, and I would have been a pedophile.
So I’m kind of glad you dumped me for no reason ‘cause
I don’t have the heart to tell people
Oh it’s not what you think!
It’s not a three year difference – it’s a…2 ½ year difference. Not the same…
Don’t you ever find it weird that we kept our relationship so low-key?
None of our closest friends knew we were ever together.
We would talk a hell of a lot about each other with them
But we never once mentioned we were dating.
We only met with each other after school
And I would tell my parents that I was going to meet up with “frien
Everybody DiesWhy do people get so sad when somebody dies?More Like This
They all know that everybody dies sometime.
Whether it's from drowning,
or maybe even at my hand.
They don't understand.
I don't kill people out of cold blood.
I do it to show them mercy.
That's what I was doing right now.
"I could kill you. So easily.. Right here, right now."
I finally spoke to my victim.
He thinks he's dead..
Well he's not.
Not yet anyway.
"Or would you rather live?"
Might as well put him out of his misery.
"I guess not.."
That was the last thing I said
before I smashed his head in
with a sledgehammer.
Now, to help out more
It doesn't matter whether
or not they die at my hand.
After all, Everybody dies eventually.
I Take Your HandI take your hand in mine. Your silky soft skin slides across mine so smoothly. As our palms meet your warmth radiates through me. Every fibre of my being awakened through your touch. My senses sudenly attentive, straining for their next fill.More Like This
Our fingertips caress. Swirls wrapping around each other, embracing like lovers, eager to touch.
My index finger strokes your finger pad. Exploring the shape and texture of your finger as keenly as I would your whole body. It traces a lazy trail across soft ridges to your palm, where it circles. Its light tickle causes you to smile and I melt at the curve of your moist supple lips as you purse them. Achingly tempting. I catch my breath and return your sweet smile.
I simply held your hand. But it was so beautiful.
It's YouIt's YouMore Like This
It has always been you
This whole time
Making me feel how I feel now
Just so happy and warm
All because of you.
You have accepted me
For who I really am
And shown me to smile
All over again.
You have shown me to never be afraid
In that you will protect me
As I will protect you.
My love everything seems to freeze
When we are together
And that our love for each other
Has wrapped us up
Creating this bond
That shall never be broken.
No matter what happens between us
We will always love each other
And have all these beautiful memories
That no one else
Can ever take away.
Pair of Pretty ShoesPair of pretty shoesMore Like This
Sitting on a shelf
All showy and bright
Oh how I wish
I had them all to myself
Where would they take me?
A secret rendezvous on Broadway,
Searing conversation and cups of tea
And an impromptu movie at midday
Perhaps a dalliance in arts old and true
Dancing the night away
To music sizzling, lively and bright
Looking up, with eyes only for you.
Maybe they would whisk me away,
To the mountains, to a secret shrine
To memories of a happier time
But wail and lament the loss
Of things that won't transpire
Shackles sink around my shoulders
And despair snuffs out the light
I am bound to a place gone to seed
A place of shadows and bitterness
Where pleasure has been banished
And companionship murdered
I won't get to use my pretty pair
I won't buy them -- it wouldn't be fair
The Nightingale and The Stranger(The Stranger)More Like This
You watched the raindrops, oh nightingale
With your crimson eyes, your stare impales
Leave this world, for your lover awaits
For thee, his cries carried by the gale
In October's bliss, as raindrops fall
I watch the clouds, I whisper my call
I am lost, forlorn, in sheer discord
For I am alone - as are we all
O9/25/13O9/25/13More Like This
Drabble- #13 beginning
“Evelyn?” the young girl's voice echoed in the small room. “Evelyn, can we-”
“Shh,” Evelyn placed a finger against her sister's lips. “Not yet. Just hold on.”
The room around them was a shadow of a past civilization. Tainted sunlight filtered in through the window above their heads, dancing about the room of discarded dreams and memories. Picture frames, mostly face down- the others too disfigured to make out any details- littered the decrepit carpet along with other pieces of the old world. A baby's cradle rested against the opposite wall, with what must have once resembled the solar system dangling above it.
Breath in, Evelyn thought. Breath out.
The crackling of gravel once again broke the otherwise silent world around them. A sharp, scraping sound, as if dragging across the pavement.
A light squeeze on her hand reminded Evelyn to let her breath go.
Slowly, she leaned towards her sist
Greg's GroceriesTechnically, I don't steal anything. It's not like I'm out at two in the morning robbing unsuspecting shoppers in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I'm not even shoplifting. No, I just steal people's groceries.More Like This
But no, it's not like that. I'm not actually stealing their groceries. I mean, they don't have any legal claim to them. The merch still belongs to the store. Just, when the shopper's not looking, maybe temporarily distracted by a newly constructed sale display or looking for the perfect cut of meat, I make off with their shopping cart.
It's best to get them when they're making their way toward the checkout lanes. The cart doesn't necessarily need to be full to the brim. I just like getting them when they're at least close to done with their shopping. That way, I get the whole picture, not just a handful of lost puzzle pieces.
I kind of think of it as a hobby, no different than ham radio or hiking. I usually make off with between two and five carts on an average weekend. Wh
ffm 14 - His Adoring Fans“It really is a curse being this beautiful,” Aiden said as he waved to the crowd.More Like This
That was my brother, Mr. Humble. He hummed a few bars of “I'm too sexy”. The crowd groaned and moaned, straining to reach him.
If the hundred of adoring “fans” hadn't been hundreds of undead monsters hoping to eat his beautiful face I might have felt the need to knock him down a peg. Before the apocalypse, that had been our thing. He'd wax poetic about his good genes, and I'd tell him he was right, if those genes were taken from a baboon's ass.
The sea of dead ringed our haven. It blocked the only road to the highway. It flooded the streets. It clogged the alleyways. If we hadn't managed to stock the store in the early days of the disaster, would would have been in the middle of a slow, horrible death by starvation. We weren't getting out any time soon.
Aiden preened. He ran his fingers through his long, greasy hair and pretended to blow a kiss to dead Mrs. MacAvo
NamesThe sky is another sky: I'm farther from my footprints than thoughts are from the waking world. Blues drain into purples; the clouds gather around the sun.More Like This
My walking stick hits the ground, which looks parched but feels like a thin layer of water. My feet create ripples. Though standing below this water would be more unusual than standing above, I make no miracles.
I've hoped for days to meet a traveller coming the other direction, to say "My name is--" and make something up, there and then. This is flawed: I've run through the scenario so many times, I already have a list of names. Clarissa. Jennifer. Amethyst.
There is no more food, nor water - yet occasionally the wind blows hints of moisture and oranges, and I feel satisfied. I follow its direction. I follow for weeks and sometimes I forget to think.
The words have been pulled from my throat. I know this because I have been greeted by a woman in a straw hat and am unable to respond. Still she pulls me to my feet - I had
De-Titled (A Love Story)I didn’t know what to call this story. I found that “Untitled” didn’t quite fit, in a sticky wetsuit kind of way. Besides, calling a piece of art “Untitled” is like calling it “So Good It Can’t Be Titled.” In the end, I took away the title altogether. After all, what is this story about? It’s a simple story, a story about a boy and a girl; it’s the story of a street, the story of a summer. The street was Montrose and the summer was sweltering.More Like This
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Every story has a beginning. At the very least, let me tell you mine.
My name is Leah Smith, which is probably one of the most boring names of all time. So, every time someone asks for my name, I tell them that I am Liesl Olivetti, which makes me sound foreign and retro, and not boring in the least. The name also fits my overall appearance better. See, one day, I decided that I wanted to be an artiste, so I went out to dye my hair pink
You Always...The thing I was chasingMore Like This
I was tired of running after it
You were always one step ahead
So when did I pass you?
Maybe I was too concentrated on running to notice
One day I looked back and everyone was far behind
But all I could do was keep walking
Because every time I tried to go near
We grew even more distant
StormsShe was reluctantly letting herself be dragged up the path, snowflakes whipping against her as she failed to realise she wasn't actually feeling cold in any way. Desperately, she wanted to ask where on earth her childhood friend was taking her, and that, within two minutes of meeting again after years.More Like This
Her hand had been latched onto when she was standing in the village, quite a trek away now that they had been stomping upwards for so long. She remembered how she had felt afraid of the strange way the inhabitants had been staring at her, all too ready to condemn her for what she was, and as she felt the same cold-fear sweep through her bones, her dazed eyes focused on the small tent, slowly becoming more visible through the blizzard.
Reaching the tent she felt her hand set free from the one she once referred to as a boy, and didn't hesitate in taking a step back from him, gently massaging where he had held over the aching bone.
She suddenly became aware of her dry throat, her
Street WalkerThe night looms listlessly over streets of grayMore Like This
While shopkeepers lock up and retire.
Yet one girl is left to wander astray
With a lecherous service that men desire.
Leaning, leaning, always leaning
Against brick walls and street lights gleaming.
Amidst pale moon and shining stars
She reluctantly enters pitch black cars.
She tries to warm up her frigid bones
After nights of sleeping in bathroom stalls.
Then takes on a customer’s incessant moans
Being smacked to the floor, once more she crawls.
Searching, searching, always searching
For a desperate soul that’s lurching
Towards her in a lonely fashion
With gentle eyes that show compassion.
Midnight arrives, and the city blinks twice
To adjust its eyes, and show its true face.
She waits at the bus stop, ready to entice
But none wish to pay for her sinful embrace.
Fearing, fearing, always fearing
That her spirit’s disappearing
Nobody really see’s her there
Nobody has a heart to spare.
No money to feed her drainin
On Opiate CloudsFalling fast, both apart and whole,More Like This
Through these dark clouds I stroll,
Among winged jays and swallows too,
I am never more apart from you.
Amongst the frigid, tempered air
I only long for a cross to a bear,
That I might suffer and repent,
And join you on your sweet ascent.
But nevermore softly amongst the crowds,
Will we drift amongst the opiate clouds.
Heaven knows what I could give,
If God would just let you live;
But instead death would seek to claim
What once was bonded in one name.
On hardened, heated, boiled ground,
I long to hear some other sound,
Than the whisper of the willow tree,
That calls you sweetly, and calls to me.
But now you lay in those black shrouds,
And dream evermore on opiate clouds.
RhythmDo you hear it?More Like This
The constant thrum.
It moves everyone in sequence
Fire dances to it
It encompasses everything and nothing
Can you match the beat?
Waste nothing in finding the beat
and using it
Thrum, Thrum, Thrum
Carry OnI like sharp things;More Like This
The way they shine
The way they hurt
The way they leave a red line.
I like to bleed;
The way it's red
They way it hurts
The way it washes out what they said.
I like to live;
The way it's wrong
The way it hurts
The way it tells me that I am strong.
Anachronistic DespairI am starving in the apertureMore Like This
fed only a stray quantum
a glimpse of photons in slivers
served on plates of silvered copper
in dark rooms.
No, that’s not right.
These days, it’s more likely
And I am a daguerrotype still,
so very still.
FragilityI desperately hold onMore Like This
to the notion that I'm strong.
Yet no matter how hard I try,
I'm still fragile.
I surround myself with friends,
yet I've never felt more alone.
Anyone I ever get close to,
just ends up leaving me in the end.
A broken facade,
cracked for an instant.
Only to be sealed back up
with the glue of unwanted solitude.
RandomYou want to dive into the darkness of my mind? Why steal mine when you can fully equate yourself to the derelict depths of yourself? Create your own method of madness and find your inner sanctum of sanity in the world around you. Find your place of peace where the breeze softens your mood and eases you to relaxation; deny everything around you to create a true outer body experience. I dare you to steal the moment's peace I have when I shut my eyes, you will peril at the rawness behind this mask I wear, and I will relish in your amazement while I find a plan to name your downfall for this treason. I come here wishing to be left alone, not to be disturbed by a cretin from the outside world that's only purpose is to take the one thing I hold dearest to me. I walk away to my open barren wasteland that I call home, stand on the edge of the plane and breathe in the smell of sweet freedom of no criticism and sarcasm, I close my eyes and extend my arms to feel the breeze rush calmly around me.More Like This
DoomThe "End" will notMore Like This
reign down from above,
it will explode from inside
as a micro-apocalyptic
self inflicted doom.
PhoenixDeath leaves its markMore Like This
In ashes of grey,
Yet life always circles
Though lifeless hope lays.
Can I rise as a phoenix
Find new life in death?
The flame is rekindled,
Lungs fill with sweet breath.
The phoenix cries tears
That heal and that mend.
We too need to cry
To be whole in the end.
The bird of the flame
Flies far and flies free.
Lift up your voices
And with it, we sing.
We will rise as a phoenix,
Death gives birth to new life
When the world sees this miracle,
Peace and hope replace strife.
ReasonsReasonsMore Like This
I want to be the reason for your laugh
The reason for your beautiful smile
The reason that you day dream
The reason you can look forward to tomorrow
Because you are the reason I laugh
The reason I smile
The reason I day dream
You are the reason I hope for a life time of tomorrows with you
The Story of a Lonely Girl Growing up (short storyThe Story of a Lonely Girl Growing UpMore Like This
A young woman watched the sun rise. A breeze gently lifted her hair. The woman used her hand to put it behind her ear, her eyes thoughtful as she thought about the road that brought her to this point in life.
“Things sure have changed over the years. I can remember when I was just a little girl, worn and weary of what life handed her.”
◊ ◊ ◊
A preteen girl sat in front of the library waiting for it to open just like every other day. She peered up through her bangs when another girl sat down next to her.
“Hello, I have read that book before, what did you think of it?” The other girl asked.
The preteen looked down at the book in her lap and then back at the other girl. After a moment she managed to pen her mouth. “Hi, it was good.”
“I have seen you hanging out here every morning.” The other girl said. The preteen looked away. The other girl watched the preteen for a moment. “
GhostGently clicking at the keyboard,More Like This
My heart was broke.
I felt the flood at my feet,
But I could not bring myself,
To run from the water's uprising.
The feeling of a weight,
It stood on my shoulders,
As my mind slowly slept,
A restless sleep,
I was a mindless drone.
Water is so desperately needed,
Water's at my feet,
Nowhere near my head,
Don't you know?
Water holds these words.
I fall through,
Clarity at the edge,
On the brink of my existence,
I remember how I felt,
And my body moves on,
WaitingWaitingMore Like This
Waiting for time
I wait for the time to spend with you
For the growth to become more mature
For the knowledge to make a future
For the inspiration to grow bolder and confident
Waiting for fun
For the Moment
You wait for the fun you know you will have
For the happiness life brings
For the memories you will make
For the moment you notice that you have fallen
I wait to make the time we spend together fun
To make you happy by becoming the person I need to be
To make memories with you that will make the future brighter
To be the person you have fallen for
I wait for you
You wait for me
We wait for love
The World waits for us
Georgie's CrumbsThe scars lie in zigzags across my throat. I don't remember the knife that made them, and they're not the point of this story; Annie is, and I'm mentioning them because she never asked about them. I loved her for that. Instead, when she found that I always played extras at the drama club because there were days when I couldn't speak in anything but a whisper, she taught me how to mime. I spent hours practicing in their dusty living room, swaying to the clatter of Georgie's nails on the piano keys. Georgie plays piano like Annie rides horses.More Like This
I still find the memory of her down by the old dirt road, where he put Georgie's piano. I turn my head and catch the scent of the wind, the way the air felt when she smiled, the way the dirt tasted when I stumbled off the horse and she caught my hand and brought me up beside her, drew me up to the sky.
I sometimes wonder what she'd have done if I'd been on the ground that day. I drew up Rook before the corner because I wasn't bold like Annie, didn'
mushroom cloud "an explosion", she saidMore Like This
I turned to ask her what she was talking about when I
caught sight of the tv screen, and for the tiniest of moments I caught
myself thinking that there's something beautiful about that much energy and
so much destruction; energy - would it wipe me off my feet? maybe melt the skin
right off of my bones? heat, death and poison, I don't believe there's much you or I
would be able to feel dying in those flames, and I should probably be ashamed that I
How Not to Tell a StoryAfter being on DeviantArt for a few years now, I've noticed patterns in people's stories. Patterns, that I can't say I've ever seen until I started using the internet. I believe that's because these kind of patterns are thoroughly unprofessional. The pattern in short is this:More Like This
Character = victim
Plot = bad things happening to said victim
Maybe this sounds harsh. It's not if you understand that is ALL there is to these stories. They take any character, hurl them into a tragedy and that's it.
Let's get this straight: We do not know your character well enough to care about them yet. No matter how bloody and gutty their injuries are, no matter how many of their family members are deceased, no matter what their boyfriend did to them, no matter what kind of disease they have, WE. DO. NOT. CARE!!!!!
These kind of things are sad in themselves, but WHO is this person we're supposed to feel so horrible for? Establish THAT. It should be your absolute FIRST priority: no exceptions.
No more pasting
Tribute to MemoryThe old woman next door played her depressing version of Happy Birthday to You on her piano again, and Lisa couldn’t study.More Like This
The music wasn’t loud, but it seeped through into her apartment with its slow pace and low notes and bothered her, even though it was ignorable and she was comfortable in good company.
“There she goes again with the sleepy music.” Mark placed his Calculus book on the coffee table, leant back into the couch, and yawned. “What’s this, the eighth time this year?”
“The first time,” Lisa said. “And how’s it sleepy music?”
“It’s making me drowsy.”
“I think it’s sad.” Lisa stretched against her boyfriend and closed her eyes. She thought of her own mother, grey and unhappy when she last saw her, and now gone. “I think she’s sad. Doesn’t she always play it like this around this time?”
“I think so,” he said. “And if she
The Pains of LoveThere he is againMore Like This
He looks so perfect
At least through my eyes
But when I'm around him
There's a pain in the pit of my stomach
At the same time, butterflies
I tell my self that I don't love him
But then there's a gnawing guilt
Of lying to myself
I still feel love for him
But it hurts
It hurts so much
Because I know that he doesn't love me
The painful thought of being rejected
Crosses my mind
He doesn't know I love him
He probably thinks I'm a weirdo
Or a stalker
So when I'm around him
A mix of emotions surround me
I feel happy to see him
But sad to know we can never be anything
More than friends
I feel angry at myself
For letting my heart fall for him so easily
And jealous of the girl he does like
I have heartache whenever I'm around him
Why did this happen
He barely even talks to me
Why do I love him so much
He doesn't love me
Why did I fall for someone
Who I know wouldn't catch me
Before I hit the ground...............
His BelovedA little girl all dressed in whiteMore Like This
Lines up the in the battle, stationed.
Prepared and ready to fight.
She fell in love, or thought she was well rationed.
He had golden hair that seemed to glow,
His eyes were greener than grass.
When she met him she didn't know,
she would shatter his world like a crystal glass.
She thought she loved him, thought she cared,
and in handing him her heart, she dared
to realize what she loved,
was the way he saw her as his beloved.
She'd given up so much,
a potential prince of love,
just to be with the one she didn't need.
With her head, she'd plead her heart
"Why must loving tear my soul apart?"
For loving him was good,
till the taint of livelihood,
occurred to her as wrong.
She'd sung a different song.
She'd keep her head and not let her heart lead her so astray,
for it had happened thrice unto the day.(Avarreth) <3
Ember to FlameSo silently she crept,More Like This
while she waited for the world.
Quietly she wept,
her million thoughts so swirled.
It wasn't dark until the end,
when she'd promised that her heart would mend
quickly and speedy,
Like a child proclaimed needy.
She was his, and always is,
and his love re-alights the wonder
In a child's mind on thunder.
He blows imagination wild
brings hopes higher than the sky
But his love for her was never mild.
There's a dimension between and they ponder why
It was so soon the boy had had to die.
He met the angels, and earned their love
And they sent him to earth from far above.
To watch that girl, who knew him to be there
Although she'd never known quite where.
She grows to a teenager's washed out years,
the cry of an angel drowns out her fears.
As they are apart and never can hold
each other safely within their arms,
time will unfold,
The subtle alarms
swept over the girl and the boy
though not physi
The Future Comes NearO Woe, take me far,More Like This
to the edge of the life where simple things are.
My love is so ridiculous,
crazy as that seems,
Every person acts conspicuous,
yet I wonder what that means.
Will it be I that sees the last light,
when the world is dwindling,
shall I behold it so bright?
Or should it melt quick the curtains,
Creeping, reaping, and burning?
I seek out new cares, for my woe it despairs.
Far and wide is my journey of adventure,
Yet I'm stuck inside bore.
Seemingly endless indenture.
Follow the lightest then take to the night,
something new and quite old,
A care for whats right,
This is what you've been told.
Don't worry for the worrisome,
they've worries of their own
and don't merge with the troublesome,
their intelligence sends one to so roam
And throughout your pain,
you'll find those so vain
to heal an immunity to fear,
that longs as the future comes near.
Bridge To TerebithiaHand in hand we standMore Like This
and we walk down forgotten lands.
You taught me that I can forever be,
the me that hid behind my fantasy...
and your paintings that enchant
at the very first glance
pair well with my stories and tales.
For I love the you I see that shrivels away
in the long trying hours of a school day.
And I sit in the sun, though its very cold,
And you aren't by my side and the day's growing old.
I know I can find you,
in our special place,
where our friendship is true,
written over my face.
So I'm running, and breathing,
and my feet ever so fast,
I find the rope with a meaning,
It created memories past.
I am flying and falling as soon as I'm out,
the water surrounds me and bleaches my shout.
Wherever you are,
I'm sorry that we're far
And I've left you here, alone.
WarWar has broken us,More Like This
War has ruined us.
People have used it
to betray trusts.
People can sit
and people will die
as they watch the war world's fatal cry.
It was a way of our own deciding
who was better than the rest
and left us relying
on attempts to be the best.
Who can say
that it's wrong to murder the murderers
to the day
it's the fate and doom of the pillagers.
The ones who've done no wrong
get caught, and trapped, inside
where the time fought is too long
and no one stands side by side.
If you stood on the edge of a stone cold knife
would it send you running
or could you preserve your life
with a plan so cunning
you bled out of pain
and your world became stunning, with hope left to remain?
We can't assume that things will change
for if we do they'll stay the same
for if your thoughts did rearrange
every evil would know
Elements UnragingTonight the wind is blowingMore Like This
so tuck yourself in snug
and if you hear the elements,
raging 'round outside,
scream out for me to come
and I will run to you.
Warm and safe in quilts
that wrap around your mind
you'll sleep through nighttime
safe and warm and sound.
When the power dies,
and the lights go out
We'll stir awake and find each other in the dark
and watch the storm through a window
where we look out at the world
that we must have some effect on,
being collected and so strong,
for we whisper back and forth
of things that compose our selves
and if we stop and listen,
our raging, warring world
we'll understand connections,
as the earth breathes on, unstirred.
To Save HerAnimated livelihood is seeping through his veinsMore Like This
he wants to save her but his fate is somewhere else.
It is trying to fear failure when the very last light
of her peace-seeking heart in him remains
He will give his all to put up a fight
that maybe, might protect her from harm.
Illness poisons her as he waits
to succeed in his quest and return to her arms.
Around every corner, danger awaits
and although he is brave and strong
Their luminous and twisted fates
can never move along.
A new day brings imperfect light
that never quite existed
in the brutal hands of night
the air is soft and misted
while he waits to set things right.
declaration of independencei. estrange the architecture of wing-beat concentration.More Like This
ii. project the striking valley of unbalanced composure,
iii. streamline the faculty of an unnamed hubris renting maudlin renting peace,
iv. mesmerize polarization in the exact art of remoteness,
v. adopt to settle yourself for a ministry of ex-awareness-
vi. imply holy red string tied around your finger;
the unnatural ascension of behaviour.
with gracelover-More Like This
when i stimulated the prayers of rib-beat
when i licked the temple of my teeth,
speed pushed my fingers shaped like confessionals
clasped holy, carved my throat to fixing-
lover; i did this for the anthem of your eyes,
the feel of strangled feet crushing the fame of stars
for the glow of streetlight worship, for the moons
of your crooning throat, for the halls of your arms,
the strayed revels of your arms,
lover: you manufactured a god out of the drugs i used
and had me addicted to the divine, to the dignity of music
you pressed in my direction: just what i am, hallelujah,
marijuana, day and night-
lover, i fell in love with your culture
that preached the real definition of dusked kneecaps,
the plea of closeted throats, the whisper of bless,
unlearning how to say please god in borrowed tongue,
i fell in love with your attention, nervous grace
lover. i levied the rubble of my sins
Narcolepsylurid enigma, andMore Like This
a stroke of starry night
vulnerable, you are
achilles heel and weep
the loss of venus and mars
and all her pitying apathy
of bittersweet occultation; but
for only a moment of silence
lonesome quarry of internalized wars
and striking, clement gems
ataraxiai swear by these unworldly thoughts, a sinMore Like This
that i bore witness to time murdering me within.
i swear by these strange, shifting bones
a neophyte of answer to the call of sorrow,
will seek god’s eyes in the offering stones
that built this life by transient morrow.
i swear by the lonesome abodes of clinical stars
to unsex un-navigate these tides of space
to free skysign intimacies as is ours,
and rid the cadence of this grace.
i swear by this internal, wicked flood
this beat asks for one: just and graved blood.
quandarythis is what it boils down to:More Like This
4:20 suffocations, but please do not forget the kerosene-
beta stole the sleight of this afghan skin,
so light me up. teach me the dogma of a smiling child
so that i can remember the innocence behind the inaction of not holding
a dying mother’s hand. charged: eight counts for dividing two zeros,
one for oscillating time’s eternal haste with morning wandering,
watt’s tongue, mint leaves, cold showers, and careless flights
on tearless days. so instead i cradled the brownness of my eyes
before the womb of dawn’s noetics, parted by the breadth
of nomadic trees (who were then convinced of the sincerity in
swallowing peace). unbeing dead isn’t being alive,
he says: thought proclaims moronic beauty of youth
The River RunIt has been a month and soon it will be two;More Like This
This ship, it seems, has run its course,
What are we but time’s impending sighs
In a song sung sick; far, far too hoarse?
Life’s dregs are prime, not in hue and cry
Beneath bored Fate’s arousing gaze;
But grow in dole and delight to die
In the battle of every days.
Among the knolls and hills we climb,
Compelled by life’s great upland strive,
I guess one must desert that freight
Which hurts not life nor helps to live.
Thus, to a star, I dare divulge
The wick too will taste this earthly shame;
With prudence dishevel the eyes of time
And give no moment a lasting name.
ExhilarationI was running for no reason, but it felt good.More Like This
I did not stop, and I wouldn’t if I could.
The wind was on fire as it swept through my hair.
And I thought whatever I wanted; I didn’t care.
The sun was blood red, and the sky was pink.
I didn’t stop for anything, not even to think.
What was this feeling that I had in tow?
Maybe calm, but that wasn’t so.
After some time, the stars started to appear.
As I reached a glossy lake, which served as my mirror.
I disturbed the peaceful water when I tip toed in.
And despite the frigid cold, I let out a happy grin.
The iciness numbed my toes, so I started to head back.
Following my undisturbed but messily-made track.
As I opened the door, I went over the day I had spent
And realized that exhilaration was the feeling that I meant.
Poeme du jour / Daily poemLa lune regarde envieuseMore Like This
les fleurs mouillées
sur ta tombe
Envious, the moon looks
at the wet flowers on
On the BorderlineBetween two worldsMore Like This
is a confused mass
not quite anything
but at the same time everything at once
known just as the borderline
a fatal tear in the delicate fabric of society
With a leap of courage
encouraged by the view
so different than the chaos in the tear
A field emerges
eyes are shielded from the sun
as shoulders relax, and senses wake up
Just feeling what's around
like a puppies first snow
curiosity masked by innocence
A stoic expression melts into a gleeful grin
hand in hand
two bodies - one guiding the other
start moving as one
together trudging into the unknown.... a good unknown
without looking back a simple flick of the wrist says it all
the tear patches itself...
How long will this last
the borderline is waiting
it is always waiting when its inhabitants try to escape
waiting for the fateful day
It knows no one can stay away for too long
Eyes close and dreams bring a dif
A Kiss not Forgotten (a special tribute)Like a frost spread across valleys silent and dreary,More Like This
ever my longing lost in shimmers of shadow & wind
And days bled into years, the seas became deserts
But thoughts of thee would not perish
Thru memories untamed I staggered far and long;
upon solemn nights lit by the torch of your soul
O’ how deep I miss your fragrant cheer ..
Of warm evenings shared across Lake’s reverie,
watching horizons journey into Autumn’s dream
— wherest our hearts once bloomed a fabled sky
Those passions shared will forsake me not
Lest the Moon would bestow solace upon my ache:
I will lay marooned, haunted by thy seraphic-figure,
Or the ever fleeting caress of your gaze ...
So my soul shall yield to this mythic abyss; –
as I peer from my carriage to Nirvana
And thou away, from my arms, the Sun weeps
Unto eternity—my dear beloved, we are entwined
Forever our footprints cast in golden firmament
A kiss not forgotten in a ballet of light softly falling
I now bear the want
Memories of Mistletoe"C'mon, West, you can't back out now!"More Like This
"Just do it!"
"Kiss him, kiss him!"
The chorus of excited encouragement echoed around Germany's spinning head. To be honest, this whole situation was his fault; from the moment that Prussia had proposed the idea of a Christmas party he just knew that it would end up badly. Yet he'd still gone along with it in his foolishness, not to mention drinking far too many glasses of mulled wine. So really, he only had himself to blame for the fact that he and Italy were isolated in the centre of the room with a sprig of mistletoe hovering over their heads.
This was one of those rare moments when Italy had his eyes fully open; alive with a fiercely bright hopefulness. And when he leaned in closer, smiling nervously as he did so, Germany found himself unable to think properly anymore. He'd never seen his friend's lips looking so soft before, or so... kissable. Barely aware of himself, he found his arms wrapping around Italy's body, and his head tilting to the