the is of aa camera empties itselfof momentsas of facesthe implicatureis your facereflectedpastthe futureexi(s)tsin thatglancedeveloped
mask painted downi am not waitingfor hisor hisapprovalanymore(i was never waiting for a coffinprocession, as they awaitedcoffers opening, gleaming)i disregard my blood;imagine grimalkins warmingtheir crooked fingersover bubblesexplodingpunctuating their gripes:on breathing,on lifemy mother suffered.in turn, as iwhen the day comesthere will be no thanks;no Ihe will be happyto have lessshe will be happyto have her breath given backsay we carry our memories with usfind outtoo latemy suitcaseis just a largehandle on a holeexpressing your lovewith a store-boughtmask, with plasticpainted tears streakingdown does notendear me to you(your love is a fictional entity birthed into an effigyyou burn cigarette holes into)no, i willnot hugyoui feel my capacityfor stormsbattering my facesubsidinglike an unlikely predictionfor year-longgood weather***
lets goRelentless as an ocean erodingthe creases of my cliff facetidal waves of youcrash along my boundary stonesthe push and pull of blue:eddying thoughtsemotions white washi don't think the ground will keepbeneath me and i'll plungeheadfirst intothe push and pull of you(are you waiting)(are you waiting)(are you waiting for an sos on the sand?)let's go
arent said - WhenThere will not be any words when the time comes. Emotions will circle back on themselves like the snake eating its own tail: an endless cycle. Existing, not existing, consuming itself into oblivion, only to expel, excrete, create itself again. Constantly extinguishing, constantly setting alight.I let the ink melt away the words I write on my naked flesh. Lick my finger again, rub out my emotions. I wrote them; childishly hoping they would find you. Like the words I say quietly in empty rooms, in empty expanses on other continents, hoping the wind will carry my thoughts to you.I wanted to tell you, but being the coward I am, I don't know when I will. And if it will matter, then.Words lose their meaning when they aren't said. When the receiver, the reader, the listener is never in attendance. Having never been invited, they have never had a chance to RSVP the event, to ever be allowed to show up.(Meaningless: When not followed by action.)In time, you'll completely forget about me. M
daily - like waterI come back to you unwillingly it seems. Walk back down these streets I've forgotten to walk along. They say it is never easy going back. I don't agree so much; I think it's so easy that this is what makes it so hard.Where do you go on those days where all you need to do is walk? Hoping to find yourself in the brickwork of old stable buildings, do you ever look up just to see if the sky still exists, up there?Maybe it only happens to those who look too intently at their own shoes, mistaking this for politeness I wasted too many years staring at worn leather. Maybe it wasn't very polite of me to say goodbye as I did, but politenesses are always so easily forgotten, I think I just wanted to stand out a little this time.I assured you I would call every day, this became every week in practice it meant once a month if you were lucky and I remembered. I like that, luck and my memory being related. Maybe I should remember to be lucky next time.***This tea tastes the way you
home-boundi catch little insects with my fingersit makes me feel so powerfuland having become god in your eyes, also -i quit:take your sorrys with me,punch in,shuffle through turnstiles,take the line closest to the door.i speak erratic, tongue soreexplaining away thisknotted anchorhe said it was "very zen"to undo, unravel,unrelentingly -of course i cringed.having had your breath takenyou have the gallto ask forit back.
the city. Burnt outA violet tag catches my attention as the metal moves towards the city. Burnt out buildings sit comfortably silent in the fenced in wastes of grass; I wonder if anyone lives in there, knowing where all the holes are, sleeping between empty bottles and filth.People shuffle around inside themselves, volleying thoughts in tiny spaces; a child tells his mother he would rather stand. A forever exists when I close my eyes, pinch the space between my eyebrows; breathe in deep into a sigh. It's black there, confused and consoling, but then one speck appears, and another, conjuring coloured hallucinations to dance along my lids, telling me to open up again.Floodgates releasing, bodies sprawling, clustering in front of each booted step. I head for the stairs and take three each stride, hoping to exit quickly, escape the undertow. Advertising excrement greets me like a dementia patient, hoary, useless make-up, insisting I'm a naughty girl: I should visit more often. Bypassi
calypsowhite rock exploded into perfect formprimary colours washingbackthe need to stayin citiesnear peoplethe quiet is a heart beatmuted for a mother'sanguishthe skullsare notcrystalthe airis notnewbut everythingis newnow.
imagine my surpriseI canfeel myself pouring (itisn'tan excuse) anotherdoppelganger (yes,I exist everywhere) down the pipes(alltypes)again.
Dreamweaver 5 (Romano x Curvy!Reader) Dreamweaver 5(Romano x Curvy!Reader) Look who updated! After….a month….I hate how inactive I’ve been because I feel like I’m letting all you awesome peeps down. Anyways, while you’re reading this I’ve most likely posted JAOGWG along with Atomic Hearts. Recently I’ve become very aware of my writing style and tecniqe, since I want to improve with each pice that comes out it wakes much longer to proof read and edit things before finally presenting it to all you lovely people. I’ve also been trying to enter a bunch of contests to earn points. My last contest went very well and a lot of people liked it and those who didn’t make it in time wanted to try again so I’m in need of points to give away…So if I earn up enough I’ll host another one in the coming mont
i've got your back. | nishinoya yuu"Where else does it hurt?""Right here.."Nishinoya proceeded to point at the area where he had gotten a bruise. You clicked your tongue, but you didn't say anything. Instead, you took out the ointment and carefully applied it gently, your fingers delicately moving across his bruise. It hurt. It hurt a little bit, and Nishinoya had to bite his lip so he wouldn't make any noise. But at the same time, it was comforting. Your touch—you were so cautious not to hurt him, treating him like a delicate glass that could break any moment. After you had finished applying the ointment, you then took an elastic bandage and wrapped it around the bruised area to reduce the pain.It was still painful, but he decided not to mention it. You did so much for him already."That all?" You said, raising a brow at him. Something about Nishinoya was odd today. He was quiet. He was usually loud and filled with life, and as much as you hated the obnoxious out-bursts, you weren't going to deny the fact that
Monster Club (Chapter 24)“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” Sarah grumbled.“We don’t have any better ideas.” Michelle argued. The entire group was sitting around the beach with the umbrella out. The sun was now in the sky and, as such, Asher had turned back into Ashley and was hiding under the umbrella while they all discussed the one thing that was on their minds. They had missed the train home…how were they supposed to GET home!? The group had been spending all morning talking about possible ideas…and Katie had presented one that all agreed on except Sarah.“It’s just not right guys!” She said. “It’s stealing!”“It’s necessary.” Katie argued.“I agree with Katie.” Abraham said. “We can’t stay here any longer.”“Yes. God forbid Asher get more of tan than already has.” Tamil joked.“I HEARD THAT YOU BANDAGED BASTARD!” Ashley snapped. The group l
ConclusionsDeath is something that is always thought of as silent. Dead men tell no tales, dead men make no noise; they remain silent as the grave. There are even those who are said to pass peacefully. For Mycaelis and Vagus, death was never silent. They had both killed as they lived in a world where one must kill or be killed themselves. Never once could either sibling recall an occasion where death had been silent.Death is the screams of agony as flesh is torn from broken bones, the howls of pain when entrails are split upon the ground. The cries for mercy, the shrieks of horror, the gurgling sound of someone drowning in their blood. Then come the sounds of those that behold death’s work. The screams of terror, the gasps of disbelief, the wailing of loved ones as they grieve for their loss. And there are those that say nothing at all, for words fail to describe their horror or their grief.As Mycaelis and Vagus sat silent in that hovel in the jungle, they could hear death outside,
Notebook of a Doll: Breaking the Ice (Proxy High)First Day: Its odd...walking into a school with others who usually protect you and shelter you surrounding you in an array of reds, yellows, blue and greens. Proxy..its a term I am all to familiar with and honestly, I sometimes feel closer to them than to Father. They usually do three things in my case: don't acknowledge you, respect you when you are around or act normal around me. I always wondered how Father trains them in the lethal skills of honed combat techniques I see when they are out at the field or why they are usually so agile in tasks of reflexes, tasks of endurance or anything of that nature. Though..for usually being insulted upon by the outside members of our little society of ghost, ghouls, puppets, demons and other otherworldly creatures, it was almost comforting to get close to some of these Proxies. Though..not everyone tends to like me. Not one bit. You see, I..well..Ally and myself (whom everyone calls me Night
He loves meThe sun fell down on me like soft petals gracing the ground at your feet. Like that day I picked that flower from your garden, daring your eyes as I plucked our forever.He loves me not.