[x]

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo

Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, bold-faced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.

Prelude       Nocturne;
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
       a wave across the sky

       I am lovely and lonely in
       the night, shadow-
       shackled to the mountainside

and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.

HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7

nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.

Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ

Puppet My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min

How To WriteHow to write:

Write a word.
Now write a sentence.
Write a paragraph.
A chapter.
A story.
The end. ♥

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The Strangers Are LoversAs we walked away, past all the graves and mourners and out the gates, I asked you why you were crying; you hadn't even known the boy.
"I know," you told me. "That's why I'm crying."

The Beings We Aren'tWe always descend into nature. Sitting on a pair of rocks in the middle of the woods, we talked quietly about Lorca and Hemingway. We quoted Wilde and touched each other's freckles in the heat of the sun. You told me that you could never feel lonely out in the open like that. We took off our shoes and buried our feet into the cool wet earth. We waited for years, our limbs entwined, to take root and grow. We became tall and bent, leaning against one another, playing tricks in the woods.

The Lies We Tell OurselvesStop telling people you're fine. You aren't fine. You haven't been fine for years; you haven't been fine since you started piecing this world together. It's all such a mess isn't it? Everyone seems to have forgotten or accepted their own inhumanity. You haven't been fine since that first day that you felt powerless. I remember that day. You fell to the floor of your bedroom and cried for two days before anyone came looking for you. You were crying for the world that day, and you were crying the loss of your obliviousness. It's almost eight years since that day and you might finally be ready, ready to help mend this place that has lost its way

Love is Love is LoveI will not have a heterosexual marriage, until I have the right to have a homosexual marriage.

The World's HandymanWhat if you've got it wrong? What if, now that the world's so broken, it's not that we've got to find the pieces and fix it - it's that, maybe, we're the pieces. And what we've got to do is all come together now, and that's how we stop the breaking.

The Eventuality of EverythingThis is what we know for certain:

They lived happily ever after.
And sadly ever after.
And not necessarily together.
In the meantime, she wrote more poetry and learnt to put her words to music. He taught himself to speak German and cook noodles.
A boy killed himself because no one understood him, and another perfectly secure one stepped out into the road at the wrong moment and was run down by a man driving his pregnant wife to hospital.
He didn't stop.

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Nothing Victorious

by ~Tohroe, Aug 18, 2010, 3:25:41 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I saw a new universe begin with a dream,
there was no one else around to notice the difference;

The others, having followed pied pipers for years,
remained motionless, as they had been processed
and were now all plastic icons of Jesus, resting on pallets,
ready to be shipped to China.

They screamed, uttered "Mama," and sometimes
shouted obscenities at the Holy Father,
while in the distance, the occasional bleats of
black sheep told me to stop counting my
blessings and begin noticing the near future.

I looked and saw a white horse, and sitting on
its back was Nothing.

And Nothing told me about his plan:

Nothing will bring order, Nothing will erase our history,
Nothing will make us forget all we've done, and learned.

I climbed on the white horse, and I rode away
with Nothing, heading toward the sunset, where I,
along with Hatred, Bigotry, Greed, Pride, and so on,
perished with the final setting of the sun,
following to the east, the dawn of humanity.

Nothing Victoriousby ~Tohroe

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

~~love 0 0~~

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~BombaMolotov Dec 19, 2010

How is this under epistemology?

~Tohroe Dec 20, 2010

And I'm assuming you mean 'why' not 'how'. The how would be quite simple - that's the catergory it was submitted to.
Rebgardless of which group it is, I was not the one who submitted it; I entered this piece only into Nihlists-Unite and LiteratureAnonymous, but I accept most requests to enter my art into other groups. Whoever it was, I can sort of see where they're coming from with the epistemology.

~BombaMolotov Dec 20, 2010

Fair enough hahaha
Time to blame the admins then

~Tohroe Dec 20, 2010

Indeed. When in doubt, blame the guy in charge! Long live the proletariat!

~Tohroe Dec 20, 2010

In which group is this under epistemology?

~BombaMolotov Dec 20, 2010

the thinkers

*OrenAsher Nov 17, 2010

Thought-provoking.

Thank you for submitting this to #the-thinkers

~aquatius Aug 26, 2010

I like the nihilistic themes.

~Tohroe Aug 26, 2010

Thanks for this, the two favourite and the watch.

~aquatius Aug 26, 2010

No problem :3

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Nothing Victoriousby ~Tohroe

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