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Happy birthdayJust as every year, the minutes
leading to midnight were pregnant
with disappointed expectations.
Expectations that carried within them
the knowledge that nothing was going to happen.
I knew those words were coming, but
they felt empty -
just like a lame "take care".
Her intention probably wasn't empty,
but words are like that sometimes.
My "Thank you" was worse,
like a vacuum sucking in the following words,
whatever genuine thing it could've been.
DawnYou sit forlorn, mist lining your faces
Your deplorable, despicable faces -
dull promise running through them
like an unobtrusive strand of hair.
The moon melts into an angelic face,
the stars come together to mend your heart.
Bolted to your seats, tired and dazed,
the perfect sunrise.
But who will mourn your loss?
How will you relinquish your pain?
There are no authors left to
write of such fatuity anymore,
for they're all drudging to pawn off their own pain,
weeping like children, carving into tree barks,
vomiting outside cheap bars, drunk,
penning away in the hope of respite.
So go home, and change that lightbulb.
There is no real dawn.
A poet's crimeI've committed a single crime, far too many times. I hid it in my pockets till it burnt my fingers. I held it inside me, like a mother protecting her child from evil. I nursed it within me till it grew, moulded it into its best form, carved it into my veins.
One morning when I woke, my head remained drenched in a darkness saturated with cries. To have held on to a poem until it finally died, escaping my veins, my pockets, my memory. That is a crime. And I have a history of crime hiding behind my ears.
PenpalYou always write, from
a country that's too far away.
You tell me of your sins,
your relationship with your brother,
your best traits in bed.
You send me coins; I picture you
a different face on each of them.
I hold one to my chest, smell it.
May be you smell like coins. Or
freshly laundered sheets.
You send me mix tapes; I listen in the bath.
I can't read or watch insects surround street lamps,
without you tip-toeing through my head.
Do you dream of unspeakable things?
Does the sound of velcrow somehow comfort you?
Do you also watch railway tracks
converge and diverge, struck by its beauty?
These are things I want to know.
With your every letter,
my fingertips beg to find your face.
Another one, another timeThe stereo is vomiting our every song one by one.
But there is a silence, thick as custard
that tells a story of
two lovers and twenty thousand loves.
You are here with me, listening too.
Climbing on to my collar bone,
licking my earlobe and teasing my every sense,
before you settle, lodged between my ribs.
I think always, of how it would be
if we stayed close enough to touch
but not kiss,
to discover what we loved and hated
before we separated.
I wished that in the whiteness of your room,
I found a space next to you,
just by your side -
to see the world
the way you saw it.
Staring at the ceiling didn't
feel the same without you.
Still, I have no regrets.
I am more fragrant now that
I recognise myself as an entity separate from you.
I reek of my own mistakes,
and bloom alone on dew-kissed magenta mornings.
But one day, we will bloom together once again,
shaming sunflowers and shutting up glottis.
You are yours and I am mine.
One day, very soon,
I will have words to put out here,
Black and whiteMy hands are pressing piano keys,
black, white, white, black, white.
You are there, sitting at a distance.
Staring into the Earth, tall grass and shadows and all,
dirt waiting to get into your nails.
The sun here is always either rising or setting.
This is today and that, tomorrow.
We have no in betweens.
At the balconyCups of tea brimming with
fuse with smoke-rings that
leak from our mouths.
I watch them, as they escape into the
yellowness of artificially lit skies.
MuteI made love to you one night
and came back feeling as beaten
as the bus I sat in.
I held on to the frayed seat,
the weight of remorse
bearing down on me.
Staring out the window,
I felt my fingers numb.
Hidden away like a dreadful sin,
I still wait for you.
Come, suck the sweetness out of me.
Drink me, be sated.
Today, you celebrate your anniversary;
and my weakness.
CityCity of dreams
city of profligacy.
Tall buildings loom over me like
hungry vultures over a corpse
Salty waters surge at my feet,
trying to sway me, shake me, and lose my grip.
There is no poetry here.
Words that creep out of road-side flowers
and man-made fountains
shrivel up like raisins under the sun.
Rhyme that drifts in ethereal melodies
falls flat to the ground like
birds shot dead.
People walk about like
weary robots in spurious contentment.
Sweat and grease traded with
There is no poetry here.
The days stretch on like
an ocean of waste,
too vain to be salvaged.
City of dreams,
City of make-believe,
I wish I could leave.
I will. (warning for prose,but mostly description)I.
I will rouse myself from casket mornings, and I will flex the 11 (or was it 12?) muscles in my mouth to form a smile—however painful. I will keep it there… because kindness bandages wounds in the best of ways. I will sip the horizon from my coffee, while weaving fairytales—without ever thinking that I’ve not the innocence anymore… because I’ll make it not matter. I will.
And I will forget him. I will… because ghosts only appear if you look at them, and he’s loved my nightmares—my tears—long enough. And because I’ve haunted myself long enough.
I will allow myself to feel human again, because I’ll remember that rain rids filth, but I’ll try to keep myself wishing less for forgetting-tsunamis… less for escapes just because of prints engrained in roots and soul. So I’ll forget his fingers straying past my heart—the way muscles seized, and cardiac arrest knew betrayal—and the way
Innocent Victim Chapter 7"What?!" was all that I could choke out. Titanic mated with Lusitania and had shiplings?! Why had she not told us?! Of course, he knew the answer to that; they would've forced her to be rid of the shiplings and she would've been punished hard, maybe even scrapped. Maybe it was for her own good. he thought.
Mauretania just continued to talk, "Please don't tell anyone! If anyone finds out their half-liners, and especially from Cunard and White Star, they'll be killed! And I'll be killed too, for protecting them and hiding the secret! Please, you have to promise me you won't tell anyone unless it's Olympic!" she begged.
Britannic was quiet for a moment, thinking. Why should he help her? All she had done her entire life was dis his line and attack his most respected sister with harsh words and actions. But that didn't make it right to where he would tell the whole world and get not only Mauretania killed, but two shiplings that didn't deserve it.
He hesitated and sigh,
What I'm Thankful ForMy cats.
My video games.
My family. Sometimes.
That's about it.
Wife's Feet After Work (Unbelievable Tickle Story)My Wife came Home from Work and reminded me that two of our friends were stopping over for a Thanksgiving drink and some pizza, wings and snacks and such. Kevin, a younger Nuclear Tech. and a nurse named Dianne, who I wrote a fantastic tickle story I had with her and her feet a while back, was coming over too.
As I was saying she came Home and was rushing around and I told her to relax and she did just that. After she kicked off her tennis shoes she went to the bedroom to get clean clothes, which were on the bed since I just finished laundry, and sat on the bed then she laid down on it. I quickly got my cell phone for some quick photos.
I came in and she felt the pillows going over her ankles and she begged me not to do this cause there wasn't anytime. I replied that if she just let me take a few then it would be over quickly.
As I was getting into position she told me that my favorite pair of socks might be getting tossed shortly and she showed me the hole in her big toe. Now I realiz
Rant.If anybody here works at Google, DA, Bing, whatever. I want you to see if you can make this happen. Get pony filters on the search engines. Why? Because I'm going to tell ya.
Couple days ago I was looking up a toaster on Google and 5 My Little Pony pictures came up with no toasters in it. What. The Fuck. This is one of the reasons why I hate My Little Pony. When I search something that doesn't have anything to do with MLP, it somehow magically turns up. I'm not even joking. It's stupid. They should add a filter to those search sites so if I want to search something, there shouldn't be ponies in it. Except if I actually type in the search engine "My Little Pony" or "ponies". If I type anything else, it should not appear. When I search dinosaurs, my little pony shows up as some of the results. I don't know why! Dinosaurs can eat those ponies but I bet they would vomit from the taste afterwards! More then half of the pony franchise is in random stuff that I type up, in ads, or in the fanb
Sound of Vengeance Chapter 2Iowa had not yet left the spot he had rested in since the day Yorktown left. As his siblings played with their kin carriers, he sat and stared out to sea. He was the oldest of the four, his radio tower was already done being formed and he was 80 feet long. Just a bit more maturity and he would be ready to join the Navy and take the fight to the Japanese!
As he watched, with his battleship sight that could show the smallest details on a ship from 16 miles away, as far as his turrets would aim, he noticed a small black dot on the horizon. It was a carrier, familiar in shape, and it was speeding towards the harbor at full speed. As the carrier got into his sights better, he smiled. "Mom's home!" he cheered and dashed forward to greet her.
At the sound of their mother being called, Missouri, New Jersey and Wisconsin looked up. With grins on their faces, all raced forward to meet Yorktown. The carrier yelped with surprise as the four shiplings jumped onto her and hugged her. Iowa was the fi
UnlovedHave you ever been afraid of being alone forever? Felt that sudden grip on your heart when you think about the future? Or how unlikable you are or might be to the desired sex? Sometimes I feel that. But I'm not necessarily afraid of being without someone I love- It's more like I'm afraid of pushing people so far away- of being so unfeeling- that I become unlovable.
I don't want to be that old lady who's eating lunch alone in a restaurant, with no wedding ring- no signs of people who love her- nothing but herself lost amongst the sea of jubilant, vibrant people. I'm lost. I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm a monster.
I don't know how to fix myself.
I don't know how to be who I want to be.
I don't know how to be the right person.
Ich hasse Rot.Ich will dir helfen, deine Hand nehmen, sie fest drücken, dich wieder zurück ins Leben katapultieren, auch wenn es vielleicht am Anfang weh tun wird. Aber es wird besser werden. Du wirst lernen, dass du es wert bist, deine Zeit in unserer grauen Welt zu genießen und wer weiß: Möglicherweise gelingt es dir, sie für dich bunter zu machen? Jedoch ist die beste Hilfe nichts wert, wenn die Person, die sie annehmen soll, behauptet, sie nicht zu brauchen und alleine klarzukommen.
„Kommst du denn klar?“, frage ich dich in einer ruhigen Minute und du siehst mich nicht an.
„Ja, sicher. Es ist alles gut. Bald hab‘ ich Urlaub“, sagst du an deiner Zigarette ziehend und bläst den Rauch in die Dunstabzugshaube. Als ob dein baldiger Urlaub eine Begründung dafür wäre, dass du klarkommst. Du weißt genau, dass ich etwas anderes meine und sage ich dir daraufhin auch.
Du legst den Kopf etwas schräg, klopfst leicht
Dawn of The HuntThalia sighed as she tossed another smooth stone across one of the lakes, she was pretty far off from both whiterun and the rest of the companions had decided to go hunting and leave her on her own. "Typical just because they found out that I'm Ulfric's heir they leave me out of everything." she muttered as she tossed another rock watching as it hit one of the rocks and hit the water causing small ripples to disrupt the surface. "Maybe i should leave and go back home." Thalia muttered as she shook her head. "Then you wouldn't be able to be taught how to fight." a voice said as it came up behind her. "Shut up, Vilkas i know that. i mean i didn't even want to join in the first place, if it wasn't for you saving my life..." Thalia said and sighed as she tossed another rock. "Well you got a point their." he said a bit surprised that she had recongized his voice even though they had only talked a couple times. "Hey Vil, how come your not with the other compa
Notebook scribbles - 1My wandering mind rests in your eyes,
trying in vain to understand.
One brief second, and it goes insane.
The thoughts are lost in all its vastness.
They have no connection and make no sense, but
they are plenty.
Plenty enough to keep me going, through all this madness.
The portal between the mind and eyes
is now but a thin line, as vague as it is unseen.
The mind is unaware of what the eyes convey.
The eyes fail to convey the message in yours.
I wish to tell you that it's me and not you,
but my being fails to comprehend.
All that is said now is nothing.
I let it be, for there really is nothing to say.
a hospital bird with soot in her lungsshe slept through a car crash
that almost killed her,
through whitewhite walls
where her lover dies
nobody thought she'd make it
but she woke up a few months later
with flowers in her hair
and ash in her airway
trying to remember how to start all over
but forgetting to remember how to live.
fall slipped from her open eyes
and winter crawled in for a long hibernation
to her the clouds looked sick
and pale like they might
let everything inside them out,
but she opened up wide instead,
spilling blood where there was none to be spilled.
her heart slipped down the street
and with unsteady hands
she stitched in a bird and cut off its wings.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More