AfterIt follows me.
My silver skeined ghost.
An almost imperceptible thread;
only visible when you shine light
directly upon it.
It follows me.
It rides the underground.
It hides under bridges,
It is woven into the spools of tar
that form the roads between.
Inevitably if I walk too fast
it reminds me -
Like the tug of stitches in your cheek
that reminds you; you have lost your wisdom.
It reminds me.
It trips me in doorways,
when my mind is elsewhere.
If I look away from it -
- it slips round my neck.
Another knot to throw over the beams
it mauls me without a fair chance.
I tried to sever it. I can't.
Only the corrosion of time has a chance.
So for now, I am tethered
to the fragment of my heart
that I tore out for you.
Although we have placed it in a shroud
and declared it dead,
the umbilical thrumming keeps me awake.
It does not desist;
the connection to that unwanted slab of meat.
Do You Hate Me?More Like This
You are sitting on the ground, pulling grass up as you stare at the horizon in boredom. A girl walks up to you, blocking the view of the sun.
"Do you hate me?"
You blink. "What?"
"Do you hate me?" she repeats.
You stare at her. "Uh, why would I hate you?"
"You don't talk to me."
"Just because I don't talk to you doesn't mean I hate you."
"So... you don't hate me?"
You think for a moment. "Well, I don't know you, so I guess I don't hate you."
"So, if you knew me, then would you hate me?"
You stare at her. She strikes you as being very odd. You are unsure of what to say; a part of you wants her to just go away.
"Uh, I don't know... Do you want me to hate you?"
The Three Lords, and the FourthOnce upon a time, there were four Lord's.More Like This
The first Lord, a strong man, had an army so great that he could conquer any lands he desired.
The second Lord, a clever man, was so rich that he could outbuy entire cities which he desired.
The third Lord, a man of plenty, surrounded himself in farmlands so vast, his men and himself could eat through five winters, if he desired.
The fourth Lord, a softly spoken fellow with snow white hair, was not alike the other Lord's. He had no grand army at his command, he didn't have chambers filled with gold, nor farmlands stretching two kingdoms. He was a simple man.
One day, the four Lord's were riding together.
"I, have just conquered new lands in the name of the King. Surely that makes me the only man of any real contribution, and therefore the mightiest of us, don't you agree, My Lords? Hahahaha," chuckled the first Lord proudly.
"That is all well and good, My Lord," said the second Lord, "but while you were stealing taking new lands, I was securing
Adventure Time: Lacrime di ghiaccioMore Like This
ADVENTURE TIME: LACRIME DI GHIACCIO
Nella Terra magica di Ooo, in un mondo diverso da quello che si vede tutti i giorni, succede invece una cosa che capita molto spesso, la Regina Ghiaccio ha rapito un altro principe, ma per fortuna Fiona e Cake sono corse al castello della malefica Regina per impedire di nuovo i suoi piani,
"ahah Principe Lampone, finalmente sarai mio sposo!" dice la Regina tenendo tra le braccia il piccolo Lampone tremolante,
"n-non farmi del male, io non ho fatto niente!" dice il piccolino spaventato, mentre arrivano al castello però, non si rendono conto che in quel momento Fiona grazie ai poteri magici di Cake, sono riuscite ad entrare da una finestra usando il gatto come una lunga scala, le due nascoste dietro a dei mobili del castello di ghiaccio studiano il piano,
"ok facciamo come sempre, usciamo di sorpresa, attacchiamo la regina e portiamo in salvo in principe e saremo riconosciute come eroine!" dice la giovane bionda ridacchiando,
"ottimo, oggi non
DieDie:More Like This
Such a simple word, spewed without thought.
"I wish you'd die, I wish you'd be killed."
But what if we actually gave meaning to those words?
Can you understand the emotion, the magnitude, the weight,
Of actually seeing the life of an individual depart?
Can you look them in the eyes, as they bleed into your hands;
Observing their final moments, as the light fades from their eyes?
Or are you simply a soft-hearted coward,
Sitting fat behind a computer, wishing death upon others?
To say that one is deserving of death,
Suggests that you are ready to kill.
And if indeed you are ready to kill,
Then you too must be prepared to die.
"Now please, stop those tears my good man, we've only removed three of your toes so far (^_^)"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th July 2013
GalateaSometimes, she is my mistressMore Like This
Sneaking in through my window and seducing me out of sleep
She keeps me up past sunrise, whispering sweet promises in my ear
Silencing me with her smoldering passion, stripping me until inspiration strikes
She makes me sing, until the sheets are slathered in a thick skin of poetry
Sending shivers up my spine and igniting my senses with her ghostly fingers
She is a lover and a shadow, nowhere to be seen when I wake
Sometimes, she is my psychosis
Suffocating and strong, I can do nothing but submit to her grasp
She seethes, like a snake constricting around me until my sight blurs to smoke
Slowly, she consumes me with sick reverence and searing obsession
She stifles me because she refuses to be restrained, yet I long for her kiss
Severing haggard breaths from my lips, leaving me stunned and aching
She is a succubus and a nightmare, haunting me
Sometimes, she is my saint
Stifling sobs against my shoulder, shaking me until my tears start to fall
She has so much
Fade Into You: Chapter 1Simon was alone. He stood in the darkness, the cold wind piercing him, and his hair whipping around his head. He blinked, trying to remember here he was; why he was standing there…but he couldn’t. He glanced around him, and saw that the grass was covered with a thin blanket of snow, and was littered with dagger-like shards of ice.More Like This
Simon suddenly noticed something on his head. Confused, he reached up and felt the cold, familiar touch of metal: the crown. He didn’t remember ever putting it on, though. As he brought his hand down, however, he noticed it was smeared with something red. Simon stared at his hand, then realized that it was blood.
“Wh-what is this?” he gasped. “What happened?!” Simon examined his body, trying to find where the blood came from, but he didn’t seem to be wounded. He frantically looked around, but it was so dark that he couldn’t see very far in front of him.
“H-hello?” Simon called out. “Is a
Faces Of MineMore Like This
Faces Of Mine
A smile once so true
But it changed direction over time
I knew it was there because of you
But it was just belief based on a lie
Hope cannot be granted
And then stripped away
You have left my core tainted
With these wicked games that you play
May it be a lesson
Or turn it into fact and truth
Love won't be as important
As I use these scars as my proof
These eyes were once so hopeful
It was considered the rise after the fall
But my tears became unfaithful
As pain plunged out of my skull
No passion for the heart / No light for the dark
No love for the liars / No guilt for the betrayers
No truth for the corrupted / No solace for the hatred
No burden for the departed / No shame for the discarded
An innocent outlook on life
Once so pure and whole
But now it's twisted to survive
There is no caring anymore
Forced to adapt to cruelty
I injected ice into my
I am not a stereotypeSlide the blade across your wrist.More Like This
"Doesn't it hurt?"
I can't feel anything.
Punch your own stomach.
Does it hurt yet?
"Why do you do that?"
The pain makes me feel alive.
"I don't know."
"What's wrong with you?"
I'm dead inside.
I'm just depressed.
Stare at your arms.
"What are you doing?"
I just have low self esteem.
I'm just human.
I'm just me.
That Girl In The MirrorHappiness will remain forever out of reachMore Like This
When love from your life you omit
To the girl in the mirror; you are beautiful
Yet somehow you never quite fit
Not the girl they thought you’d turn out to be
When you were a neonate child
Born with a raging heart and a raging mind
But with a manner ever so mild
Your scars aren’t always visible to them
And not only hidden under attire
Lacerations to the mind are just as abhorrent
When memories and dreams conspire
So girl break the mirror if you have to
And reflect on your life as a whole
Do you really want to spend the rest of your days
Behind a façade of self control?
Please be strong enough to go your own way
Indeed go against the grain
In your field of dreams stand up and be counted
And maybe others will do the same
You are unique and you are so beautiful
You’re everything someone else is not
The light of your reflection will shine on
Through the looking glass your childhood begot
Angel or DemonThese eyes look at you as if the night look you today...More Like This
Divine woman, for a bliss of my being that I found you; precious woman, for my sadness that you just looked me.
You and I share my soul at find us, but then I stayed empty and you without me.
The vile object of my sublime passion... I secretly playing that part of you that I've put a name.
Why I treasure the spells you put on my soul already thirsty?
At night, some part of me walks maddened looking for more reasons than have to forget you, and then go on loving you.
Will there be in your heart just mud and poison? Or will you be the beautiful rose in my perpetual Eden?
I panic to forget about you in a short time... because I want to love you at least two lives with infinite time...
Always hinders so many things, you and me just one hinders us: your desire.
That pearl fallen from heaven... woman most pure as a serene light.
When my hands are shaking almost getting rid of reason ... standing before the angel that heaven left withou
Acceptance.Friends all stand in front of me...More Like This
Laughing, joking carelessly...
I hide my arms so they can't see...
What it is I've done to me...
And though I try to hang around...
They often leave me feeling lost...
What will it take just to be found?
How much more will my joy cost..?
('Cause I don't live, I just survive)
(Among the crowd, I'm ostracized)
(I can not be indemnified)
(I fell too hard, I broke this time)
My parents always yell at me...
Like I won't get it unless they scream...
But I never do know what they mean...
Why do they have to smother me?!
I've got my back pressed to the fences...
I'm sorry that I'm such a hinderance...
I long to feel some kind of presence...
Something more than this hated essence..
Suffered from my unjust sentence...
All I ask for from this world...
Is a little bit of pure acceptance...
(I Gave) My Soul (To You)More Like This
(I Gave) My Soul (To You)
I'm inadvertently lost in that smile of yours
And in each and every single word that you say
Sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore
As you lead me on a path that I'll never astray
I will keep following you
Because I want you
And every night I can't help but watch you sleep
Down from the countless flickering stars, I'm soaring
And every time I wish I could step into your dream
Through the calming dead of light, I'm falling
I will keep loving you
Because I fell hard for you
While you're slumbering, I put my ear to your welcoming chest
And I can't help but lose myself within the echoing sounds
Putting me into a trance, it's such a feeling I will never forget
For those cherished memories are found
I will forever remember you
Because I need you
I never dare to slip into unconsciousness
As I pretend to meld myself into your fantasies
Entering a world that leaves me feeling somewhat restless
But the thoughts an
Maybe, Just MaybeMore Like This
Why can't I be sad about this?
Not a single tear has flown
Am I emotionless?
Am I a monster?
Why can't I be sad about this
My mood seems to be the same
Am I heartless?
Am I empty?
Why can't I be sad about this
The others have their masks on
Why do I not need mine?
What have I become?
Or maybe, just maybe
I have grown used to the pain
Of losing someone who's close to me
Maybe, just maybe
The EndThe EndMore Like This
Through the matted haze
A silhouette, man or monster?
Are you there?
A trick of blackened mind?
You’d think my intended liberation cruelly selfish.
You’d ask -
What of the children? What of you? What of us?
These come as gifts to cling to.
I try to tell you.
I walk on the edge of an abyss.
But I am ignorant of it.
I am a fool to feel safe. A fool, unaware.
I walk for a while, and everything is okay.
There’s a path I follow, it leads straight, it seems wide.
The abyss always looms and I have to notice it.
It’s always waiting now. Always in the corner of my mind.
I trick myself sometimes into thinking it’s not there.
I distract myself along the path.
But one little stumble, the smallest of stones, and I am falling into it.
To start with I can catch myself, and drag myself back up.
Always I fall a little further.
Until one day I fall in completely.
I hit the depths and my body shatters.
The pain renders me incapable.
The darkness and fog
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamMore Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
DoorsMore Like This
There had been many strange deaths recently, and there were only a few survivors who were willing to talk about it. Most of them spoke of an odd demon who wanted to play ‘games’ with them. Others could only remember a large monster, but the fear from the situation had caused them to block out the memory of what it looked like. The police were determined to catch these dangerous killers, but so far they only had one lead to their whereabouts. Someone had called in to tell them that a creature with an odd mask had been spotted going into a building. The person did not say who they were, but simply told them this fact and hung up.
This building mentioned was under construction, but was nearly finished so it looked like a normal building. A team of four cops had been sent to investigate, as there was no real evidence that the person seen entering the building was the killer.
It was late, and only a few cops had stayed behind at the station. There were three of them. Tom Anderso
Bipolar DisorderDear everybody,More Like This
I’m not just moody.
I have Bipolar Disorder.
I don’t choose to have this unbearable depression,
Where I sob uncontrollably and the most unpredictable times.
A sadness that paints your entire mind,
Down into your soul.
And you don’t know when it’s suddenly going to
Change, from being a terrifying unhappiness,
To being such a fantastic happiness
That you can’t even connect your thoughts with your own brain.
Where you challenge the world,
Because you feel bigger than a speck of dust for
The first time in your
It changes from being such an incredible mess of emotions
To being the creator of no emotion at all.
And soon, the lack of emotion
Starts to eat away at your heart.
And you don’t choose to…
But it turns into an
A sadness that paints your entire mind
Down into your soul.
This is Bipolar Disorder.
This is me.
This is who I am.
As You WalkCome with me.More Like This
In the truncated grays and browns of fading light time passes,
Well beyond these leagues of descent.
And as you walk . . .
As you cross the river in your leaky boots . . .
As you grasp my hands to clear the bank . . .
Perhaps we could sit in our shadows,
Under this leaky tree
for a while.
Perhaps we could wait it out.
(The ascension, I mean.)
I mean, before we claim a direction and all.
Before we forget where we came from.
ElenaElena followed me homeMore Like This
from work one night
and stayed for tea and eggs,
and all that minimum wage
and wars between the sheets
She said she was a goddess,
daughter of a carpenter
with her long red, red hair
and eyes as warm as hazel nuts
on Christmas morning.
Her hands spoke braille
across my back
and made the silence
of Sunday into a prophecy.
She left one October
just like she said she would
when the fireflies
had turned their wings to ash.
And I found revelation
in red, red wine
and cheap red, red fabric
that came off in my hands
105My fever dream.More Like This
It's the same one every time.
I start falling...
into kaleidoscope colors
in the cereal aisle
at the grocery store.
I'm short. Two feet tall.
With skinny arms the length of javelin poles.
But with tiny hands and fingers pushing
a Plymouth station wagon- size shopping cart.
The cart is very, very heavy.
I keep trying to advance the cart
never reaching any destination.
It's all so tedious.
My javelin poles
keep extending towards the cereal boxes.
Like "Go- Go Gadget arms",
way before that cartoon ever existed.
That's what's scary.
Nothing ever ends up in my cart.
All I really want
is an ice cold glass of Hawaiian Punch.
And a box of Alphabets!
The weird thing is,
standing in that aisle...
I know I'm in that dream.
Linda R. O'Connell © 2013
ScarsSee the sharpness of my tongue-nibMore Like This
As the metallic taste in my mouth draws out
A barking cough, forced out
By the dirty nicotine lining my lungs.
See the blade of stubbornness
That slices across my cheek bone;
An amalgamation of all the times you pushed me.
See the residue in my eyes,
The remnants of all those times you forced me
And I forced myself not to cry;
Those tears condensed into a thick blinding syrup
That colours all things red.
See the crinkle in my nose,
The wrinkles on my heart
As I remember how you didn't love me. (Don't love me).
See the burns on my psalms
And fingerprints singed off
By all the times you called me nothing.
See the manacles, the barnacles
The mutations and tumours.
See the invisible scars of the Battle of Us.
Death by Dandelions - Draft OneThe day the dandelions came,More Like This
I dug up the roots and swallowed them.
I hid amongst the reeds and russets,
and glowered in the summer light.
I slipped into the water then -
and it carried me safely home,
I grappled with my sense of purpose /
I rippled with the waves of branches.
The day the dandelions came,
I felt their savage roar rush through me,
as I slept soundly under a bushel and
Let summer play on my skin.
DeathDo you really understandMore Like This
Everything that happens
And do you really know the pain
The thoughts that go through your mind
Heaven, or Hell?
MindMy refuge and shelterMore Like This
Isolated from troubles
None know it but me
Dreams and imagination dance
DreamsDaily dose of madnessMore Like This
Ready to be revealed
Every time I close my eyes
All of me, and none of me
Magical and crazy
Secret world of mine
IndependenceIf you shoot meMore Like This
Nothing will change
Despite your attempts
Each moment is mine
Perhaps you will feel better
Every time you contain our actions
Nothing can stop us
Death is a favor
Even if it's early
Never think you won
Certain people will live forever
Everlasting and perfect
bipolar.after they diagnosed my father,More Like This
my mother told me,
if she had known,
she would have never had children.
it scares me to think that,
one day i could hear a small voice saying,
“mommy, i don’t feel right.”
“you don’t look sick,”
they say, noticing that i’m not dragging around
an i.v. stand.
noticing that my sweatshirt is black
and not a white hospital gown
swinging around marbled, knocking knees.
“but i’m still unwell,” i say
in a voice that doesn’t shake
and they just look disappointed,
like i don’t fit.
like i’m the skewed painting
on the fucked-up-person wall.
“but,” they say, “don’t bipolar people
usually kill themselves?”
“but i tried,” i say
with my wrists unmarked
and they just shake their heads
almost as if to say
not hard enough.
“poor girl,” they say, looking right at me,
sitting next to my dad as he laughs too loud.
Silly GirlSilly girl,More Like This
Whose eyes rain crystals,
Why do you wish to heal?
Do you not understand the beauty
Of your ability to feel?
Whose grin’s so bright,
Why do you wish to change?
A soul with no emotion
Would appear to be quite strange.
Whose face is dull,
Why do you live this myth?
You choose to be a shadow,
Smashing daisies with your fist.
With wounds and scars,
Why have you chosen this death?
No, sinking into your own grave
Would be better than such regret.
You’ve started to feel,
Just recently you’ve started to cry.
You’ve been down this path again and again,
With a pain you’re designed to deny.
Whose eyes rain crystals,
Why do you wish to heal?
Do you not remember the torture
Of being unable to feel?
How I came to dislike fanartEdit 2: For those that wonder why I closed comments. A death threat was the limit for me. http://damaimikaz.deviantart.com/journal/Speechless-383087330More Like This
Edit: I've never expected such a massive response to this journal. But because it's gone all over the internet... I would like to settle a few things first... because I keep getting the same replies over and over again.
1. I made this journal as being my personal opinion. I'm not stating facts here. I'm just saying how I personally feel about drawing fanart. Please don't take this journal as a fact, because it isn't. It was never intended that way.
2. I don't expect you to agree with me. I don't mind either. I'd like you to reply why you think differently. Provide me with your insight and experiences. I'd love that.
3. I'm well aware that I can't change anything about most of these facts. I brought them up for discussion because I want to hear what other pe
Z for Zombie Ch 1Z for ZOMBIEMore Like This
The sun was bright overhead, the sky a clear blue with a few clouds floating merrily in the soft breeze. They day echoed springtime with bunnies and ducklings and pretty flowers. Not that anyone ever took notice of these things anymore. Charlie hardly glanced at the day’s serenity as she raced across the downtown streets; her feet slamming against the asphalt in time with the pounding of her heart. Her lungs ached as she gulped in each breath and then clamped her mouth shut in attempts not to scream out through pain and fear.
Charlie had to stop. Her side was splitting, her lungs were raw, and she was too close to tears to keep up the pace. She quickly rounded a corner and side-stepped into the closest building. The glass crackled under her feet as she tiptoed through a smashed front window. The building must have been a gym at some point: there were old treadmills, cycling machines, and weights set up in almo
F.O.R.G.I.V.E.F is for Feelings,More Like This
pain, anger, guilt.
O is for Outrage,
mountains from molehills built.
R is for Reasoning,
let common sense in.
G is for Genuine,
let healing begin.
I is for Ignore,
those screaming for vengeance.
V is for Validity,
give mercy a chance.
E is for Empathy,
support and don't revile.
Forgiveness is stronger,
than revenge or defile.
the one that lets it reside.
Forgiveness the one thing
that we all have inside.
The betrayal and anger,
that's felt can be so stark.
Often, I'll admit, it leaves
some emotional mark.
Forgiveness can strengthen,
if you just allow.
Forgiveness can build a bridge,
it's a start, anyhow.
zeroi sworeMore Like This
i would never number the poems
i wrote about myself because that
would be like ticking off the days
until my breakdown;
i was a moth, unapologetically throwing myself
at any gleam of hope; wasting my wings
on industrial promises
colors always felt much more
appropriate for the purple boiling
beneath my heart and the pallid
purposelessness of my head,
but i was born into a colorless world--
no one sees me behind the metallic scars
of my skin and iron grating of my voice against
the grain; no one sees me as more than
gray regret or monochrome mistakes,
no one sees me but
all i ever wanted was for a
fallen god with feathered heels
to believe in me: to pray upon
the monuments i built for
broken dreams and to baptize me
in his tainted tears,
i just want him to be real. more
than anything, i want to be real, i want
to be more than an imaginary friend
to various mental limitations; i want
to trade my liquid skin [evaporating]
for a chance to be
i am a moth and you are the lighthouse
Minotaur 1.1Death's acrid stench clung to the air around Varan. The sickly rot of infection bubbled up, oozing from his shoulder. There was nothing he could do chained to the stone wall with a guard at the door. Arrow splinters trapped in his flesh were killing him slowly.More Like This
His death should have been swift on the battlefield, but instead he was ambushed while he bathed. He'd cut down seven men before the poisoned arrow made him too weak to lift his ax. The poison wasn't lethal, unfortunately. Its purpose was to render him unconscious for interrogation.
His sire, the famous Conqueror of Brundan, must be laughing from the afterlife. Even shame failed to give Varan the strength to rise or curse his luck aloud.
Infection ravaged his mind and body. Time blurred and he no longer knew how long he'd been held prisoner. He was a minotaur. A Bullman. He was stronger than any human could hope to become, but the illness made his limbs too heavy to lift rendering the chains moot. He was the Joranaham Chieftain
Pain is almost sexyThere is a beautiful kind of pain.More Like This
The electrifying kind that jolts you awake
like a dose from a defibrillator or one too many shots of caffeine;
the soothing kind you clutch to your chest like a child would his teddy;
the kind that mutters soothing words into your hair and holds you as a mother might.
(a pain like flushing your mind through a blender,
turning it into chicken feed,
And bleeding the world though your soul)
I'm addicted to it -
to chewing the world apart like scrap paper through a shredder -
I want to live it, hold it, marry it, taste it, be it;
Come home each night to find it waiting for me in the bathtub,
soaking me in its acid,
making love to me like an abusive husband on Satan's blood.
Agony is sugar-coated, wrapped in silk and duty-free;
it licks through your skin and bleeds its impurities.
Bloodletting was used to purge evils
and I am old-fashioned.
There is a beautiful kind of pain,
and I'm too afraid to let it go.
Speak in Silence"Baby."More Like This
That's what he would call me: Baby.
"Baby," he'd call in his don't-wake-the-living voice.
(The knob turns and the door creeps open, the scent of him drowns the room. I stare into the splashes of darkness behind my eyelids and stay still – he has the eyes of Medusa, he is always watching, he has the eyes of Medusa, he is always – "Good girl," he coos.)
"Baby," he would moan, crushing my bony wrists beneath his forearm.
(Razor blades tear into my abdomen, or maybe it's my head. My screams are muffled against his chest, until I no longer bother to scream.)
"Baby," he'd say, his arms like prison bars, keeping me in Hell.
(Tears spill from my eyes, dragging my spirit away from my body as they pull their limp forms across the skin that is not mine. Pain like a hammer to my cheek whips my head aside, it bursts and flowers like a bud unravelling withered petals. He growls, "Stop crying! You're acting like I'm hurting you.")
"Baby," he'd warn when I'd wandered too far or too close.
If You Ever WonderedSwallow it awayMore Like This
All the things she didn't say
Choke it down like pills
Before the blood spills
I'm so afraid
I'm so messed up
I'm so sorry
She stop talking
Finally she shut up
We can get some peace and quiet
She breaks things with her words
She splits ears with the thoughts she has
They don't understand
They don't get it
Why does she even care any more
Again and again
They overflow at night
When all she can do is fight
All the blades and the flames wait
And she loses faith
When will it end
These golden days
Because doubt creeps in
It seeps in
Like water through the cracks
Or into a sponge
Sick of the pain
But it comes in waves
And it stays in close
This is a grudge match
The scars are ugly
And some still bleed
And her throat is so rough
She can't tell you what she needs
Just sit down
But she can't for long
When she's a
Remedy For MemoryWho needs sleepMore Like This
Its a demon in disguise
Who needs sustenance
Its a poor little liar
Who needs to remember
Its all just a dream
Why so many questions
Unraveling at the seams
Shhhh, be quiet
You'll wake up the dead
Shhh, shut up
You'll wake up my head
Does any of it matter
No not really
But so much betrayal fills in the blanks
All my responses end with a sarcastic Thanks
What was I doing
Just bleeding alone
What am I doing
Just looking for a home
Will you cry little child
Will you run to your Mother
What will she do for you
She's a burnt down cover
They all failed you
Daddy left you home alone
They all tugged at your sleeves
Their touch breaking your bones
Run to find a remedy
While you wish you were just a memory
There is too much sensory
Its a dead melody
She wants to play with metal
She wants to settle
With blood running down her cheeks
She cut her hair today
Wonders if they see
What she's hiding away
Its been years
Since she watched it all disappear
UncircledEyes wide openMore Like This
Eyes wide shut
Life is too short
To be counting old cuts
Slip on the rings
Slip on the fingers
Dig deep with little teeth
As the red light lingers
The air is too tight
It presses in close
Tight fists constricting
Stepping on toes
A one sided mirror
Test subject all alone
Running into walls
Crying for home
Old voices whisper
Old friends turn away
Listening to silence
Because they have nothing to say
Black and white
As their breath hitches
Muddled up mind
Asking so many questions
With so little time
The past is the past
And you've bled a lot
Close your eyes
And tell yourself you forgot
You're the last patient
In this hospital for souls
The white walls are red
And your heart is stone
Pick up the daggers
And pick up the nails
Break open your heart again
And pray you don't fail
I Want to Get Better and I Want You to HelpShowering at three in the morning,More Like This
Because that's what insomnia does to you.
It takes your bindings off and throws you in the water where you try to wash off the stains of today.
I thought of you.
I always think of you.
Cloudy in my head and raining down cheeks.
The walls turned red while I rinsed away the bitterness inside me for not speaking up, again.
For not waking you up.
I painted your face on the steamed-up bathroom mirror as if you were beside me,
And slowly I heard you crying.
Quiet at first but then as it replayed it became a sob and I cried just as hard.
Oh how did the insomniac and the narcoleptic fall in love?
How is it I feel so alone when it's my fault?
Maybe I'm just masochistic and we're all just petty...
Maybe I was beaten down and taught not to speak unless spoken to,
Because I still get scared when I call for you.
I'm scared to talk to you,
And I don't know why.
Maybe I'm afraid of love...
Because have you seen what it's done to me in the past?
My bones shudder at t
I Might as Well be the MoonI succumb to the sun and awake to a touchMore Like This
From the fingers that tingle my mind each morning;
I revolve around words that I'm scared to accept,
Typed out neatly across a shimmering surface.
Heartbeats litter a field of bright fire,
Blooming alive without wither;
When the words have poured and dripped so sweet,
I let myself recede to sleep.
A quarter of the day is killed soft in my dreams,
Until I'm up to await yet again.
Unresolved rage is channeled out in a flood
That sweeps the undeserving in its tide;
I might as well be the moon sometimes.
I need to keep an eye on the cat.
Blood blooms swifter than a glistening blur,
Brought in the heat of unexpected returns;
Somehow my star can still float in a void,
Instead of expulsion, unnecessary nova.
My luck is disgustingly good.
The dove sings a song of some sickly-sweet dream
That flutters the strings of my soul, like wings.
I follow the crest of my wave to conclusion,
Till it can blandly balance out.
My dragon comes to rescue
Nothing LeftWhen the cost of livingMore Like This
becomes too high
Just cast a glance
To the sky
Where all of eternity
Is full of regret
Where all the stars and constellations
that you can see
Have lifetimes ago
Ceased to be
And you think about how
all you are and all you know
Are doomed to be lost in the tides
Pulled down inthe masses' undertow
We are nothing
Just accept the fact
There is nothing to do
But to act
8-Ball PlusSeveral to burn and several to crossMore Like This
Multiple bridges in my wake
For once i am at a loss
Spill frail skin
Or drown in sober sorrows
My introverted tendencies lean to crawling back in
Mere trust could be my saving grace
I've rested it on many shoulders
Some treat it with due care, others cast it down by their shoelace
I don't know where i am going
Longing to collide with decisions under the influence of complete apathy
Zero chance, the obsessive compulsive can't resist knowing
Stand by my side
Or fall to the waist
Open secrets purged, no more to hide
Enemy or friend
There is bare and depleted land in between
Hold nothing back so as i can sincerely mend
Questions left unspoken
Answers following are wife open to interpretation
I speak in minor bursts, can't you tell i am an 8-ball-plus broken
Closing in on nine
I need someone to cry to
Someone worth more than a complicated greeting and my last dime
The Ministry Of LiesCopiously medicated, addict by designMore Like This
Seize my literal ounces of pleasure
And i am just another sucker waiting in line
I set myself high standards but retained low self esteem
A hypocrite on high
Sermonizing before the dysfunctional that it is within reason to achieve an insurmountable dream
Coping minus the stained white lie retreats to the hindmost position
I rely on the fabrication to sustain a liquid-sanctioned morsel of volition
Fragile as it may be, it allows me to progress despite the exhausting conditions.
This Is A GoodbyeI vaguely recall simplistic conversations with herMore Like This
Few syllables and awkward pauses
She was one of many of the same to enter my private circle
and we shared her pain through innocent flirtation to help her cope with loss
Sophomoric though my sentiment has been known to hold me back
I was warned and still i turned a blind eye, convinced she was something more
Part of me knows it was cheap attraction that kept me crawling to her aid
I let it go to my head, a fool who stumbled upon a thorned flower washed up on the shore
I'll never forget her, no matter how i try
This can't be sugarcoated lest i add another reason to cry
I can hardly bare to let her go, nothing of such difficulty has ever come my way
But the part of me that still loved her is starting to fade away
And to her i have no more than so long to say
Make A MoveI am lashing out in frustrationMore Like This
I am an inch away from caving in to the stress
The threat was mine to make, now it's time to make a move
Wasted on this stark hole, I'm too concerned about their perception to settle for less
Call me a hound, the hound devours the snake
Everything in my way can walk or be subjected to a fatal mistake
This is what they've done and the promise rang loud and clear
Let the slight slide or stay true with all i am on the line through the confidence that this oppurtunity is my own to take
Jacked UpMore Like This
Jacked Up by BloodshotInk
(This is one of my stories, and not real!)
My boyfriend slashed one of my car tires.
I didn't realise it at first. I had the day off work and we'd been lazing together in our seasonable bed, when he suggested we go out for lunch. Now my boyfriend is many things but keen to leave the house he is not. He likes to be at home, tinkering in the shed and whatnot. I should have been suspicious but it had been such a hazy dreamy morning that I just wanted to spend time with him before Monday morning ruined it all.
It took some time to get out of the house though, because as I was brushing my hair he commented on how it was all lit up from behind by the sun and the look
In the interests of transparencyIt's clear to seeMore Like This
that I'm as fragile
as glass -
and every time
that you look through me;
I crack up.
Trees know how to be braveThe trees are resigned to dyingMore Like This
and still they do not shrivel
against the brutal winds of August.
They reach out. Reach up. Grasp.
They etch out, as veins,
into the tender flesh of the sky
and pierce the sun with broken fingers
trying hard to warm aching bones
for their first and final days
of a life as a skeletal dream.
Trees know that tragedy is not death
but what we let die in us, in life.
Circus: The FunambulanceWalking the tripwireMore Like This
between not glorifying suicide
and not patronising people
with the lie; I would never
- I suck in my nausea and fight
not to close my eyes as I
vulnerable and afraid
in front of my tenderhucked audience.
Their eyes pluck out
and give an attentive
standing ovation as I exhale
and stagger forward
- a shout,
a fall -
and for a moment
I wonder if there is
a safety net there for me at all,
and if my devoted audience
would prefer to see my
neck//shatter on stage.
Bridge + BoatMore Like This
Blue by greendesireDark Wooden Boat by UrbanRural-Photo
Antelope Canyon by Pooky09
We are a bridge.
Layers of blue skin by iNeedChemicalXWooden Suspension Bridge by Cobro2Dark Wooden Pier by tuebengtsson
Blue by AkumaRyoshiWooden Pier by kpavlis
Blue Summer Night by PajunenSad by Elena-NeriumOleanderIce blue by diensilver
Got The Time Mister?Life is short. A hundred years sounds mammothian. It swells in your mouth and tumbles heavily off the tongue. A hundred years. It deceives us, life is short. Life is too short to accept sadness. To resign yourself to misery. Sometimes these things happen to us, and that is alright, but to choose to cloak ourselves with chain-mail before swimming in the lake at twilight... well. Life is short.More Like This
Life is too short to hate your job, you only get one shot at this experience of the universe (even if you believe in reincarnation you will never be this person again). Life is too short to accept friends, lovers or family who damage you, in any manner. You may not think very highly of yourself but you are all you have and it's okay to protect your most valuable asset: your life.
Life is not long enough to let people abuse your trust, lie, cheat or steal from you. It is not long enough to feel guilty when you do something wrong, but there is plenty of time to take a moment to consider all the thin
VaseA broken heart can be excavated.More Like This
Damaged tissue can be scrupulously removed
and the cracks can be sealed
with the molten trails of gold solidified.
The upturned cavity,
once proofed against further damage,
can become a pulsing vase for tulips,
because even though your heart has been broken
it is still valuable beyond comparison.
Chow MeinFor me the turning pointMore Like This
was standing in a Chinese takeaway
staring listlessly at the adverts
whilst my mother chose between Chow Meins.
The little card reading
"Industrial cleaning, including suicides"
I remember gulping back tears
when I looked at my mum and wondered
should I take the card for her?
Don'tTook double the dose to watch the ceiling spin,More Like This
think about all the mistakes in my life again.
Gaze up and try not to cry tonight;
wake up to the way the stars shine so bright
I lie and take in the plaster
God knows what it is that I'm after
I lie and shake and cry til it's over
then I try to move to the sofa
and I'd rather be anywhere else.
As the world starts to blur there's no one but me
and I let my life slip indifferently
and if you were here, you'd not say goodbye
you'd catch all my tears and then you would sigh
I lie and take in the plaster
God knows what it is that I'm after
I lie and shake and cry til it's over
then I try to move to the sofa
and I'd rather be anywhere else.
When days are hectic and filled with emotion
all I desire is to stop the commotion
but nights are so lonely, life is so dreary
and I see the dark things so very clearly
IntroductionsHear me read itMore Like This
I take my valium with cola, I'm a very complex lady.
Full of contradictions. I sometimes always answer vaguely.
If you ask me how I am, you better know I'll always lie
and if I fall in love with you, you're probably gonna die.
Life's not always kind to me, I try to stay upbeat
but please don't ask me how I am if I cry in the street.
I don't like to be looked at, I hate to be ignored,
I'm right, you're wrong, so be prepared for a broken record.
I stick up for the little guy, unless that guy is me
and if I do you a favour then I'd never charge a fee
I'm really bad at rhyming, but I think you kinda guessed
whoops, I'm sorry, backtrack now, I guess that I transgressed.
I'm sugarly sweet but bitter, I think that hope's a noose
I'm funny and outgoing, but somehow a recluse.
People mistake sweetness for weakness, I tell them I don't mind
I can run rings around you without being unkind.
Generally I'd have to say, I'm not my bigges
40810If only you were soulless.More Like This
If you were mindless, blind,
you and I could make a beautiful disaster.
The press would write of our brief affair;
they'd paint me (the woman in red) as pathetic.
They will not consider how I need your love
or how it pains me so deeply to throw myself at you.
I will not be remembered as a poet warrior.
I'll be the eternal survivor no more.
All who think of me will shake their bowed heads
and tearfully remark;
If only you were soulless.
If you were mindless, blind,
You wouldn't have been such a bloody disaster.
CarboniseI carbonise.More Like This
My brittle bones turn
into pencil lead
and etch and ache against me.
I break open my elbow
and scrawl onto the walls
with the charcoal beneath.
a cave drawing of my end
onto a blistered skin
of plaster and mortar.
I rub blackened bone
to make sparks flutter
and bounce across the brickwork
Bridge + BoatWe are a bridge.More Like This
You wrapped a rope around my neck and strung me to a tree, in the hopes that, if you held me taut enough, you could walk all over me. Part of this forced smile rotted and broke off. You skipped over the holes until you forgot they were there.
Eventually the piece you landed on, whilst you tried not to fall through the chasms in my mind, began to break. You hit a little harder each time, and I shook, and splinters left us both with a collection of wounds to remember our days by.
I started to fray. I thought you would tether me again, as you had once before. I remembered the days you had worked so hard to secure me to the earth, to you. I remembered the day you made me part of the pathway to your future. I remembered how proud I was to be part of your home.
I held on as long as I could, soon holes were canyons and frays were the intricate lace of rivers through a continent. Eventually the cracks met, your negligence and my faulty materials, we disintegrated.
You bought a
CarvedYou are an oak carved tableMore Like This
that has been hewn and hacked
from its original pure form
into something someone found useful.
I was screwed tight together
with fixtures, fights and fittings
by so-called master craftsmen,
who wanted me to be firm,
who wanted my artificial endurance.
Men who wanted my knots undone
and for me to hold them up,
but I am a chair, and you are a table.
You have told me of the days
when seventy percent of you
was forcefully ripped out
leaving a splintered hollow behind.
I know how abrasive people
rubbed you up the wrong way
with sand paper to keep you quiet,
and with words to keep you down.
Plain men with plained minds
that have been stroked to the quick
and left only with the core
of their brutal carver instincts.
I know how you were made, table.
I am five pieces nailed together
With sticky tape for good measure.
You are one whole still, somehow
and when I need you, you are stable
and your legs are thicker than mine,
run faster and bear more pressure
on your leve
Tying the KnotToday we tied the knot.More Like This
When I woke up this morning my hands hit the alarm clock and absorbed its vibrato shrilling. I had been up most of the night, anxious, but I put that aside quickly by reminding myself of the future. There was a lot to do to get ready!
I shaved carefully, slower than normal as I didn't want any blood on me. Things had to be perfect. I felt my stomach churning with nerves as I showered but by the time I got out of the shower my trembling fingers had calmed to a bass instinct.
I stood in front of a full length mirror as I fumbled with the buttons on my clean white shirt. It reminded me of when you taught me how to iron. I wasn't as good at it as you were but I looked respectable.
Dressed and ready I knew the time was almost come, but before I went downstairs to meet you I hung out of the window smoking a cigarette. You didn't know I'd taken up smoking whilst we prepared for the big day, I tried not to let on but sometimes I think you smell it on me. I remembered yo
Another DayTonight's sky is a fiber-optic forestMore Like This
for us to lose our minds in,
for hopes to become the cloudscape
and for dancing to become the norm.
Tonight's moon is a promise made
to us to keep our dreams within,
for us to build a starlit staircase
and unlock that gilded cage.
Tonight's dusk is a champagne toast
for us to drown our sorrows in
and the reminder that tomorrow
our lives go supernovicly astray.
ConsummationHear me read it!More Like This
In debris beside your house
there's the rotting stench of home,
where all the ghosts of lovers
and their broken chances go.
You smile at me, I shiver.
I taste your tongue on mine.
There's no dead for the sympathy
as you trespass bound'ry lines.
In the broken bulb of midnight
when the caskets rock to sleep
there beneath the soil bed
you lay me down, I weep.
You smile at me, I wonder
as you pin me underneath
if you know how I wish that I
were six feet more beneath.
In the soiled marital bed
where pigs and otters go to lie
you grunt your way to release
the only release I want, is to die.
IronmanHear me read itMore Like This
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
Vein of thoughtA renegade capillary strikes out towards the surface. A mad tangent from the high pressured networks of the society that shot around from office to office trading information and oxygen. Who needed to be stuck in the cyclical business of respiration imports? There were still cells of resistance that dreamt of seeing the sun.More Like This
The PledgesI pledge to immortaliseMore Like This
acts of love committed against me,
and to share the knowledge
painstakingly passed down
from shaky paper hands,
to a smooth maternal grip,
to your clammy grasp - to me.
I pledge to close my eyes
when all inside feels dark
until the sun falls from the sky
and you make the stars slash
through the nightcurtain
to remind me of ephemeral love.
I pledge to remember
the way that last kiss tastes
and constantly struggle
to capture it for those not lucky enough
to kiss you.
I pledge to save my tears
to rehydrate old inkwells
so that they become part of every story
I decide to tell.
I pledge to keep trying
to be happy, outside the parameters
of a brain that can’t help but hate
that I am not you
and that I am still alive.
WineHead on a patisserie tableMore Like This
with a wine-scented napkin
that I scrawled your name all over
in the hopes it might necromance
or just romance you
to this place, at this time,
so we could be together again
and although the guitarist knows
that I'm broken beyond blue
I keep reaching for the bottle
in the hopes it might recreate
or just replicate
That Kind of ThingI took an overdose of liquid nitrogenMore Like This
hoping it might numb the pain -
it didn't. It simply froze my blood
so moving felt even heavier than before -
but I used to do those kinds of things.
Used to seek out sharp edges and use them
to balance the blunt, abrupt nature,
of my depressed self image.
It never worked, but sometimes it detracted.
So believe me when I say I'm sorry
and that I try to stop my veins defrosting
when I see you smile - I really try -
I don't want to feel that heart go again
I'm not used to that kind of thing
and I don't want to be reminded
of all the agony of its fractures and its ruins.
Please, forgive me, if I melt around you
even when I know full well
that you are not looking for that kind of thing.
At least, not with me.
I can't help it. You're out of my league
and I'm out of my mind -
but you're warm and even though I fear the thaw
you remind me that there were also good things
that I used to feel.
The Re-Prettify ProjectBreathing in silver filamentsMore Like This
will not make you pretty on the inside.
You cannot polish and buff
lung or aorta
until it is shiny and new.
If you have filled your life with toxins
and allowed your eyes
to cloud over with coal dust
do not, my friend, do not
seek silver linings from anything
but penance and kindness.
Throwing gold-dust over your head
will not administer you a halo.
Happy HourLong-regretted and undigestable wordsMore Like This
pressed between lips and sticky glass;
this is how we pass the moments
when the treachery of our own breath
leaves us desperate for release from
between vodka on the rocks
and the hard place in the back of the skull
that holds the swollen root of self doubt.
We pickled it, we prized it out
with pawing uncertain hands groping,
blindly, into each others psychosis -
your hands on my hesitant hips
and my tears on your handkerchief.
I tried to save you, and you me
but no blade worked to ply out the pain
in its pit-stone seating above our spines.
It sat heavy on our minds and sweated,
sweated its mildewous poison into us
and into our tempestuous relationship
until eventually your hands trailed up
to that place where vultures perch their hopes
on prominent collarbones -
your hands round my neck you clawed
and tried to squeeze the poison out of me.
your mouth nor your thumbnail at my throat
with a salt rim like a Margarita glass
The SundancersThe sundancers crease the sky ephemerallyMore Like This
and stain the floor with their bravery, eternally.
Just Don'tDon't tell the people that they are close to God.More Like This
Don't tell them that he hears
the half-broken whimper from their strangled voice box
that is wrapped tightly shut
( so the demons don't hear and intercept our hopes )
with the fraying cord of our dreams. Don't.
Don't tell the people that they can be heard.
Don't tell the ants
that the watchful eyes that hover above them know nothing
of their struggle
and do nothing to assist them.
Do not break their dorsal aortas with your clumsy
malnourished ideas about eternal love. Don't.
Don't tell the people that they can be heard.
Don't hope to cure meningitis
and malaria with a well-placed verb
or a splinter of metal into vertebrae.
Some people are not to be saved that way.
Don't tell the people that are close to the
Mah-Jong Sometimes my father would get temporary jobs decorating old lady’s houses within the area of our small harbour side town. He would come home speckled and cheerfully display his work jeans to me; “the sign of a hard day’s work”. He felt proud of the various shades of magnolia that repurposed what once was blue. At times like this, when I got home from school the house would be empty. At first I was delighted to have space for myself, I played Spice Girls loudly on my white cassette player or watched Pokémon on T.V. Eventually the novelty wore off, and when I’d come home to find Dad gone for work I would go truffling, snout in my parents papers to find secrets.More Like This
When I was ten I discovered the Mah-jong set. It lay in a small black briefcase-like box, unremarkable but it resembled other boxes in which I’d been able to paw through my mother’s old broken necklaces and pinless broaches so naturally I opened
ProximityProximity burns at the back of my throatMore Like This
incensed with the smoky taste of your cologne;
You're a mere eyelash away and you
in time with the slow motion thumper in my heart.
I reach for you and nudge my kiss into yours
'til we meet somewhere in the middle
of emotion and nicotine-tasting adrenaline
that sets nerve endings in my fingers to vibrato
as I hold on tight and kiss to show one
of my feelings for you.
DecompositionIn our depressive state, we are reducedMore Like This
to simple syrup, stuttering fools
speaking the languish of zinfandels.
They tell of an epidemic
of phylloxera, sucking sap
from every vine that mouths can reach
and hatching eggs by the thousands
in the dry-husk leavings.
We are oh so cultured,
sipping fine wines and strumming musically
on our string-theory postulations;
rapidly advancing toward the next great discovery.
But our heads and hands outpace our hearts
to the ruin of the soul.
Word ProcessorThe only place where I amMore Like This
Quick and quiet, chalky
moments of introspection
leave my spirits damp and mouth dry.
Theirs is a depth
I no longer wish to explore, yet
I feel the presence.
I wither, and return. And
collisions that guide my writing are harsh,
too brutal to depend on.
Or maybe this is therapy-
these little boxes and margins,
the flow of thoughts so few will read,
and fewer understand.
These are the spaces I am
most comfortable, and simultaneously
Perhaps it is the anonymity; perhaps
because they could not possibly contain enough
to put together the pieces.
Here, I am
to be intact and separate. To grieve,
and gather myself whole again.
To dissect the world like lightning, and blink
as normal people can.
I wrote poetry at lunch, on a napkin.
It was the only space I had.
Invasive CloudsI met a stranger, carryingMore Like This
picked tulips and a gravel tongue
speaking indecipherable things.
He told me
winter is an obstacle, but also
a new start
colors will be brighter for the contrast.
in his fluid drawl, and the words flooded
my mind like cream poured into coffee.
Post-Nuclear Love StoryI held my breathMore Like This
when I was tracing alpha particles and gamma rays,
from bloodstream to dry bones and
trying to figure where time went
while you were making passes at the sun.
A tall glass in hand
of iced tea and charcoal,
but you knew you were only drinking radiation
and your lips cracked open
to ask for water.
I could only give you words, my love,
and nothing more.