THAT AWKWARD MOMENTTHAT awkard moment when your sitting in a spinny chair eating cereal and you lean to far back, scaring the crap out of yourself and spilling cereal all over yourself.More Like This
We Need Villains NOT HeroesFor the longest time I have admired heroes. I imagined them to be people of change, people who would bring the world forward and take us to even greater heights. It was then however, that I realised the 'Human Obstacle'.More Like This
Humans as I discovered, perhaps in the most painful of ways, are rather unintelligent beings. They are driven by their core instincts no matter how much they wish to deny it. And the only difference between one and the next is how deeply they let those instincts consume them.
If you walk out into the streets, you can see the well-adjusted average man. Yet in his mind he is not considering the good he could do with his life, he is only thinking about the next step. Where will I go next? Who will I be dating, what shall I enjoy next in life?
There is no thought of altruism; no sense of assistance for another. He could walk down an alleyway filled with the homeless and nothing would change...
If that is the case, then what is the path of truth? Is it doing
Daddy, Daddy.Daddy, daddy! Come play with me.More Like This
I'll be the princess filled with glee.
You'll be the king, you'll reign over the sea.
Daddy, daddy, come play with me!
Daddy, daddy! Let's play a game
I'll grow up and like magic, i'll change
Into somebody so odd and so strange
Daddy, Daddy. Let's play a game.
Dad, hey dad! Let's do something fun.
I'll pull the trigger of this heavy gun
After I've given you some time to run
Dad, hey dad, let's have some fun.
Dad, come on now, can't you see?
This knife in your back and this bullet in your knee
It's who I've become, who I've grown to be.
Daddy, come on...
Come play with me.
BreatheStep backMore Like This
Allow yourself to breathe
If you can't breathe
it's like you're drowning
messed up feelings
The only way out
Is to kick your legs and push yourself to the surface
Going up and beyond those
Low self esteem
And allow yourself to breathe...
Because if you can't breathe,
So step back
And allow yourself to breathe...
You are the kind soul that this world needs to live
And laugh another day
Because from this point onward-
It's going to be okay.
You should never attack a poet,we are the best at exploiting weakness.More Like This
the night you took a scalpel to my chest
& fed my heart to the stars,
you told me i could hate you
if i needed to.
with an exorcism
i tried to cast you out
of my body.
i was contorted limbs:
the language of tongues
trying to find myself
in the cosmos
of lit kerosene fingertips,
& the kinds of habits
that only choke me at 3am -
when my eyes aren’t yet heavy
enough for sleep;
my mind tells me to do awful things.
between fucking &
you are the calories
in the mathematical equation
i think of shy moons
and i don’t eat for three days.
you only liked me
when this poetic tongue
space shrapnel aside-
you’re too far down now
for even the stars
to graph you into their maps.
FineSwallowMore Like This
Say I'm fine
Don't know why
Blow off steam
One last text
...I'll be fine...
Names'What's your name?'More Like This
'Why does it matter?'
'I want to know.'
'My name is of no importance.'
'My name isn't a part of me. It isn't what defines me. My name is nothing more than a label.'
'That's a very interesting way of seeing it.'
'Call me whatever you wish, it means nothing to me.'
'Your name is a part of you though.'
'Your name is as much you as the color of your hair or how tall you are.'
'Just something else for society to label me.'
'Not so. Something is only a label is you wish it to be.'
It's not FunnyWhat the hell is being called emo all about,More Like This
Not to mention all the stereotypes,
All your emo cutting jokes are worn-out,
You don't understand the damaging gripe.
What is with your hatefulness anyways,
It is misdirected, it's not funny,
It's considered bullying, why give it praise,
Can you joke with good humor, not calling people pansy.
I think that is the first step to progress,
Rather than putting those down with such emotional problems,
So that way cutting jokes aren't a piece of their stress,
So no more cutting jokes it only makes things numb.
It hurts the worst when it hits close to home,
It may just bury someone six feet under, dead,
And nothing feels worse than when you are alone,
This flame of emo jokes doesn't need to be fed.
My OutcastsI look at the picture on my computer screenMore Like This
A mixture of people, each with their own personal hell, filled with their own demons. Each of them, putting a smile on their face, ready to fight the next battle the world has for them; knowing they'll never have to truly fight alone. Everyone of them, different than every other person on Earth.
All of them will fall, but will be pulled back to their feet by the others. Some of them will have battle scars that will be known by others- maybe judged by the ignorant people who know nothing about the warriors fighting- but never judged for their scars by the ones closed to them.
All of them, feeling things so deeply it seems like they'll never see the sunlight again. But one day they will, and the people by their side will be the ones to be with them every step of the way. They'll hold each other and stand by their sides through thick and thin.
Writers, actors, musicians, artists, mathematicians, scientists, every one of them having their o
WordsWordsMore Like This
Beautiful, wonderful, saddening, sickening words
Pulsing through my mind
Like a heartbeat in a chest
Keeping things locked up
And conveying hidden meanings
The words jump and jounce and
Dancing under the moon
Howling with delight
Leaning against each other with sorrow
Bitter tears leaking from every syllable
A nonsensical yabbering that somehow
Sweet and long and
Over and over and over again
The words find a way
To hit the nail on the head
Pulling, tugging, gripping the heartstrings
With cold, clammy, welcoming hands
Sliding into oblivion or
Finding new philosophies
A horse race of lightning and thunder
And the voices of lost boys screaming,
"WE WILL BE FREE"
A song, a chant
A word that makes its way to center stage
And bows beneath the spotlight
Its debut and final act
Never the same again
Don't think, don't speak
Scrawl with the rhythm of a harvesting blade
And with the beat of a drum
Vibrating through you
Spinning the wheelTwirl little wheelMore Like This
Twirl for as long as I can feel
Twirl and set in motion the threads of the strife
Unraveling of my life
And I will spin on my crest
And I will keep on spinning
'Till my fingers are sore and my eyes bleeding
'Till the very end I will pay no heed
To the stirring pang of my chest
And no regards to the numbness inside
Ice CreamEveryone writes poems about emotions and fearsMore Like This
And one day I said, "I want to write a poem about
About Dilly Bars on the drive from Tucson to Phoenix
The Dairy Queen across the highway from the ostrich farm
With the dust devil's raging by
About soft serve cones at the Desert Museum
Always Twist. Never Vanilla.
On all those hot Saturday afternoons
Watching mountain goats sleep in the shade
A poem about Friday nights after pizza
A different flavor every time
And eating straight from the carton at Dad's
While netflix plays on the wii
And sitting on the rooftop watching the stars
Ice cream bar in hand
About the store by Big Lake
Where I always got the cookie ice cream smash
Ate it on the way back to camp
Every single time.
Gelato at the Stanley Hotel
The worst I've ever had
Talking in hushed voices about ghosts and bravery and
"Oh that's so bogus"
And then there was the Gelato at Parisi's
After a wonderful, stuffing dinner
The mini Ben & Jerry's at Fry's
Wanted to Try the Journal Skins and BVB fanartSo I just wanted to try the journal skins, so I picked a LoZ one. I like it a lot!More Like This
Also, I was wondering if I should draw some BVB art? If so, any suggestions? Should I try to draw my characters that were loosely based off of the band? What do you guys think?
How to Insult PoeticallyOnce I happened upon a callow young lass,More Like This
Who apparently thought that it was cool to be crass.
And she turned her tongue upon the profession of writing;
Apparently she felt that it was in need of a smiting.
Though her raving and ranting made very little sense,
She seemed to be taking a rather harsh stance.
Apparently her pain was too great to be understood,
Far beyond the comprehension of this man from the hood.
So I stood there in swagger, clad in my bling.
While she behaved like 'Moon-Moon', in search of a thing.
She spouted some nonsense, some far fetched line,
About never idolizing the keen writer's mind...
If that is the case, then why ape my technique?
Why submit to several galleries; is your brain on the leak?
You are writing to be seen; you seek attention as I do,
What are we if not performers, is that not true?
Did you believe that you could use your past as a shield?
It counts, I'm afraid, for nothing, I feel;
For you see, I'm a killer, as bold a
No Longer a Little GirlDear imagination, can't you be the thing you wereMore Like This
Butterflies and daffodils and happiness so pure
Sunny skies and lullabies and dreams of what could be
Hidden worlds and wonderlands of things they couldn't see
Shining gowns and silver crowns for dancing with the prince
Twirling with excitement, though the others weren't convinced
Dear intimidation, did you find it to be true
All I ever needed was an overdose of you
Silly stares and laughter slowly flood a child's mind
Making me abandon every daydream I could find
Lost beneath the shadows of the sky so dark and dead
Far too weak to turn around, yet scared of things ahead
Dear destructive tendencies, I feel it's time to hear
You were all I had when nothing else seemed to be near
Everything so out of reach, too far for me to see
I decided I would choose the needle next to me
Slicing through my very skin to feel something once more
Weeping through the satisfaction I could not ignore
Dear imagination, can't you be the thing you were?