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perpetual decemberwould you give me your december?perpetual december by Vlavisfaults
i am holding out my frail plywood wrists
and begging you for something
too heavy for either of us to hold
[though you are somehow cradling it
in your fractured celestial mind].
would you sing december to me?
would you play it in thirds
and mold it into something i can see?
i would give the dying bamboo
on my window sill to feel you again
[like when you cut your hands on raw selenite
but they don't bleed].
december is slipping out of our reach.
she is slipping quietly out the door
and i have my hands held high
like sentinels of the sky
and my eyes closed in patient rapture.
you are slipping quietly out of my reach,
out the door
[you did not want to interrupt me;
me and my goddamn emotional revolution.
i am awake and it is not december anymore,
but there are dead leaves on the kitchen table
and it is time for me to go
[i am left with falling in love with people i don't know,
i will see you again].
crystalline opiatesometimes your face is so clearly engravedcrystalline opiate by Vlavisfaults
in my memory that i can almost feel
the butterflies make their way to my eyes
as you look at me through yours.
in an out-of-focus world i could not
ask for a view more crisp than this - standing
at the chandellier peak of the new ground
we have softly broken.
your coldplay-lyric tongue sillhouetted
against my fingertips of charcoal blurs
and smudges and creases and scratches on
the curves in your name,
i can't remember when last i craved to
etch a word so deeply on my lips - do
you recall the last time blood tasted like
it's in the glow of the surface of the
water against the sheen of you painting
under a spotlight - it's in the sky, it's
in the sky,
it's in the way you
Hollow SuicideI love this world.Hollow Suicide by SilverInkblot
I love it even when it's so beautifully achingly lonely that I can feel the drum of my pulse throbbing just under my skin, a constant reminder of the hollow center the veins connect back to.
Sometimes I think I want to build my future in the forest because the trees are so lovely but then I realize that I would be missing out on the vast, limitless blue expanses of oceanwater and the sound of the waves lapping at the shoreline. And then I think of the view from the mountains, or the honey-golden tones of the desert at sunset, the neon lights of the great cities, all the beautiful places in the world I have to choose from, but which one is the most beautiful in the end?
I think about the end of the world, how the forests would burn and the seas would dry up and the mountains would crumble and the cities would fall, and the destruction would still be hauntingly beautiful because it's a reminder of our own impermanence. A gentle memory of that faint
Stolen BreathCan't breathe.Stolen Breath by Larenthi
The world moves, my head is heavy, and I hold your hand. You're intoxicating.
You don't see what you do to me, don't see the way I have to focus on what you're saying, don't see the way you make me smile... You certainly never see the way the breath leaves my lungs the moment you enter the room.
You think we're casual. I think we're serious. I love the shape of your mouth, the colour of your eyes. The feel of your hair, the spaces between your knuckles...
You've taken me. I was safe, stable, steady. And now I'm twirling like a spinning top, hardly aware that I'm alive. I'm lost again. Horribly, sickeningly, enticingly lost. I just love it when you smile at me.
I can't describe how it feels when you're here. The way you make my poor, ragged little heart feel . I can't describe the way you make my knees feel weak.
And you don't know. I can't bear it anymore give me
He runsHe runs, as fast as he can. The wind blows his fears away, with every step he treads on his guilt. Just as fast as he can, on the night-dark asphalt, stained in orange by the light of the lamps. He runs, to let the blood flow away from his brains to his legs, chest and arms. To direct adrenalin, to let tiredness melt any tension. To recall the feeling of freedom, in the insight that he's free when he can move. He runs, down the middle of the street. So that every bead of sweat running down his forehead is a little less violence in his mind. To leave something behind and, in the void of his focused mind, believe he can start again from blank sheet.He runs by LadyEvelynn
He stops, after a time that can't be measured, and leans his hands on his knees. His burning lungs scream out for oxygen, the blood still flows in his warm legs. He walks slowly, enjoys the balm of exhaustion, his relaxing body. Takes some steps. Then turns around, and heads back.
A Little RainI pull my collar up, but it doesn't seem to stop the water trickling down the back of my neck. I've been shouting for Barney for a few minutes now, but there's no sign of a dapple grey pony appearing through the mist. He probably can't hear me; the wind is stealing my voice away.A Little Rain by Kitri-du-Lac
This weather makes me regret having horses. My coat is already soaked through as I start to trudge up through the field, the mud threatening to suck my welly boots off. I can hardly look where I'm going; the rain is trying to poke me in the eye.
There he is, sheltering in behind the trees. Barney, the love of my life, or so I tell myself. He starts wandering towards me sedately, as if we're in the warm sunny fields I saw last summer in Colorado.
I pull the headcollar over Barney's nose as he gets to me, starting to haul him in through the torrent. Another washed out July. I can't help but be jealous of Leigh-Ann, spending her summer riding through the mountainous desert. I remember the su
GunI am a gun and my teeth are bullets. Mr. Vance said so one time. He says a lot of things that aren't really true like that and I think what he means is that I have the same job as a gun.Gun by Leonca
It is a good job and I get to be very important. Everyone should have a chance to get Mr. Jameson's treatment and learn how to change their body to become a dog. You feel so much stronger and your senses are better than when you are human. Mr. Vance is too important and busy to do it though. If he got the treatment and had the side effect and lost his memories how would he be able to run his business? It would be impossible so that is why I did it for him. I only wish I had left myself some kind of message to help replace the lost memories. Even a name would have been nice.
So now I am not the same person I was before. I am Dog and I am a gun.
A man holds a gun out to show other men that he can kill them. I bare my teeth when he needs me to. I do not have any enemies. Mr. Vance does though and he says
• written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure : a short story in prose | [as adj. ] a prose passage.
We want to see your work up here.
[But before you submit, read the submission rules.]
cosmeticbeauty crowds me till I diecosmetic by WorldWar-Tori
false impersonations of a lie
cosmetic rituals to make a disguise
all to impress those girls and guys
cover up blemishes, your freckles too
wouldn't want to see the real you
bright red lips and mascara eyes
remind me, where is it beauty lies?
eye liner paradise and lip gloss heaven
press curler to eyelash and count to eleven
tweeze your eyebrows, make them dramatic
these daily beauty rituals seem automatic
suck in your cheeks, pout your lips
florescent white, fake finger nail tips
surgeries to make the thicker thin
muscles trained to pull your stomach in
dyes made to make hair the perfect colour
shades with shine, sparkle and glamour
the tightest of clothes which trace each crease
reminder that black slims even the obese
beauty crowds me till I die
but all of it's a make-up lie
products and surgery, all cosmetic
a society based ritual, ugly and pathetic.
An EnigmaAn Enigma by devcynic
My ecstasy and your entity, all lie in the same hemisphere, somewhere beyond the horizon.
Somewhere in the abyss. Somewhere where there is no sun to burn.
Burn me from the insides.
No sins to repent for.
Where my laughter echoes with their wails.
Where there are only Us - me and He.
Beyond their imagination, a world of the Endless, for eternity.
from the waning day till the new dawn,
and then till the demise of the light that lacks.
The light that lacks the cogent to heal this hollowness of my heart.
This is just an infatuation; imaginary, impossible, yet intimate to me.
But then again,
lets just say that,
my ecstasy and your entity, all lie in the same hemisphere.
Sioux Woman WarriorBoxer womanSioux Woman Warrior by starlight-silence
Builder of the body
Baby back at home crying
You think of her
In the breath-spaces before
The fight begins
"I see my daughter in my mind when they call my name.
Her face looking at me - and I know she's the one
who brought me there. I fight for her"
Working to win
With body bruised
In the wake of your back
Like a river of black
Flowing in the wind that
Your body has created
Bending like poetry
Head drops with knees bent
As your gloved-fist curls back
A Sitting Bull warrior
You sing like an
Your future life
Will do to you
"I'm gonna work harder, practice day and night
Just put my mind and heart to it. If I really want something
I'm gonna get it done."
poetry |ˈpōətrē; ˈpōitrē|
• literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature : he is chiefly famous for his love poetry.
We want to see your work up here.
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The Reign of Megalosaurus Dark clouds rolled out over the plains as the monster sniffed the air. It sensed the coming storm as the wind picked up. The herbivorous dinosaurs had all taken to shelter hours ago, but hunger drove the Megalosaurus to patrol until the last minute. Electricity began to build in the air as dust particles collided, whipped up by the strong gusts. As a top predator, the dinosaur had little to fear save for other members of it's species... and the weather.The Reign of Megalosaurus by The-Real-Kentobu
A deep rumble sounded, prompting the theropod to abandon his quest and look for shelter. His cave was a dozen miles away. Even he sensed that the storm would be here before he made it back. A quick scan of the ever darkening horizon revealed a large rock outcrop just a few miles away. It was in the direction of the storm, but it was the only choice.
Rain started now, just a drizzle at first. As the weather front picked up in powe
Crystal Supergrass—See, you need to think of it like a business proposition. That's all this is. Business. And sometimes when you're trying to run a successful, profitable business, you have to make sacrifices. And the thing is. Well, you know what the thing is. I'd be down for this but Fish just doesn't like fish.Crystal Supergrass by glossolalias
She throws her hands and giggles at her own joke. She rocks from heel to toe and then paces her bedroom, stepping on dirty clothes and pillows. She sits on her bed beside me, pushing stacks of paper onto the floor. Handwritten lyrics and sketches of skinny women and music sheets scatter. She rests her hand on my shoulder and looks me dead in the eye.
—And think about it like this. How often do you get to seduce someone? I mean, yeah, you could seduce a girl, but it's not the same. Girls don't think with their vaginas the same way guys think with their dicks. You have to be lovey with a girl. This is just raw sexuality until you have the quad. And we're in the hole, man. I mean, wh