100ThemesChallenge - DarkDoesn't everything seem more real in black and white photos? That's because the world's losing it's colour.
100ThemesChallenge - LoveDespite what people may think, not all guys wants a stick thin barbie doll with a fake smile and dull eyes. I like girls who curve. Girls who when you put your arms around her, feel like they fit perfectly against your chest, not like you're hugging a stick. Homely girls. The ones that wear soft cotton shirts and sweaters, and have a warm smile and eyes you can get lost in. The ones that walk around with a smudge of flour or toothpaste or paint on their shirt all day because they haven't noticed or just don't care. The ones whose apple-vanilla smell you could recognise from across the room, but still never becomes mundane. The ones who, when you curl up with her, no matter where you may be, it feels like Home.
And Tonight My Prayer Was XIIIAnd tonight my prayer was:
You once asked me: "Why do you look to the ground when you walk?"
"So I can see where I am treading." I said. "Why do you look to the sky?" I, equally bemused.
With a smile you reply "So I can see where I'm going."
We Are Prostitutes And JunkiesThe ribbon binding our cervical ribs together
is resolved fire and
quantum mechanics wrapped in beat-one-egg-until-fluffy.
Cut your teeth on my frightened way of life,
point fingers at the spiders in my closet,
I told you
together we could divide the universe by zero
and find the answer in the rubble.
But I was too delirious
to write down the name on my night-stand,
so I might have been wrong.
Forewarning was rolled off my shoulders
and picked up by the orphans
who wanted to have a life,
and yesterday I found
why I must listen.
are no more entrancing than my sighs, you said.
The sway of her fiending lusts
held no ground, you said.
But I told you poets never find
Strangers tell me I should eat more,
the world is not nearly as revolting as I write it;
I told you the sun would swallow us up one day
and you asked
what became of my opium laced assumptions.
The Dirty Little SaviourYou're wrong, my love; it's when I'm completely sober that I'd like to blow my brains out to make it stop. Delusion is little price to pay for life.
The Society and The IndividualI was born independent and the biggest mistake I ever made was falling into the arms of society. Free will has become an option, and that is where we have all lost ourselves. You can either choose to live, or avoid the things you will never know by experiencing things at your own discretion.
We are the creator of our own lives.
Nothing VictoriousI 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.
Becoming InhumanI want to scream in colours.
My words would be painted in blood;
your blood to be exact.
Every vulgar, unfaithful ounce of it,
But you'd bleed for anyone.
You'd die for anyone
You knew this was sacred.
Bodies maimed and desecrated
But when I cut into the skin,
It was no suprise to find
Wires had replaced your veins.
How to Forget.I think the high is setting in
Because the lights aren't any dimmer
But I can't see you.
My eardrums are still in tact
But I can't hear you.
And I'm in no state to judge my mentality,
But I can at least hope that I'm not going insane.
cup of coffee Your coat is draining in water and your curly thick black locks are powdered with yet undissolved snowflakes. That coat, that hideous coat. I'd told you before how much I hated it.
For some hidden reason she looks lovely on you today. She dresses your body like an armor of some kind of bohemian knight. Just like I used to when I would spoon you in your sleep, keeping you warm and safe from the vicious dark until the dawn would break.
She must be your new mistress, desperately trying to hide your murderer body from the stains of blood on your shirt when you staggered my soul with those six little words:"I don't love you any more".
Your dumb look kind of upsets me. It's just like you have thought I would cling to your neck and angrily kiss you for a last time, begging in my guts that I will sip your soul out of that hollow cage of yours you call bo
Death.It took some time
To convince myself
That you don't exist.
The sadness that secretly consumed you.
Everything that made you,
The fear in your eyes,
The cuts on your body,
Hands clenched, gasping for air while
The drugs soared through your veins;
All of that was real?
The smile that could span miles,
The glazed eyes that told so many stories,
The creative mind that once captivated the world
And all that's left are the memories
That torture, consume and, on occasion,
Bring joy to my mind.
It's all surreal,
But I'm beginning to believe it's true.
You're forever in my memory;
But I've come to accept the fact
That you don't exist.
Paranormal Friends are hard to come by with a life such as mine. Your only true friend in this life is that of the taste of blood. Either born into this life or taken by it, you fear what you become and some wish it never happened. Once taken by it, you begin missing the taste of delicious foods and wine. The sun, its rays of light that warmed your skin and lit your sky, now clouded in forever darkness. This life wasn't so lonely for me, for I had a friend that I could trust and keep myself from preying upon. The life of a vampire is not so easy as it sounds.
One cold, moonlit night, I was prowling the rooftops watching for prey. The rooftops were an ideal spot to lurk from to keep out of sight from curious eyes of the night. I must have been hallucinating that night, or I was hungry from not
The Crime SceneHe stepped into the room like anyone other detective would at a crime scene. Scoping out the area and then to the body.
Give me the info he said in a dark voice.
uh, Amanda Rock, university freshman, got kicked out of the dorm for assault and
is now living with her sister Marcia, and her sister was the one who found her the officer quickly mentioned.
Another man entered the room with heavy footsteps.
Looks like a suicide the mysterious man stated.
Ah, detective Walker said the mysterious man, noticing the detective observing the corpse.
No suicide happened here, the knife is positioned wrong he stated back.
Boyfriend? Walker asked the officer.
Yes sir, the one she assaulted at the dorm he replied.
And where is he? he questioned again.
Right here sir said the officer pointing to the man in the corner.
He looked at the man in the corner and observed him quickly.
Where is your
The dumbing down of loveface stained, just as well as the heart
things have been turning out all wrong
leaving the lover alone without love
under the knife
"remove my heart! i don't want it without him!"
ardor, slipped away at the seams
all when you thought that your love
was the center of all that ever meant anything
choking on the instant escape
that he left you
you are lost.
your limbs, jello, giving way
to the weight that's heavy in your heart
collapsing your vocal cords so you
no longer have to speak what
a little bita little bit of red in your cheeks
you'll never know how much you mean to me
a little bit of blonde in your hair
you'll never know how much i'd like to be there
a little bit of a skip in your walk
you'll never know how my heart flutters when you talk
a little bit of warmth in your voice
you'll never understand how loving you was less than a choice
a little bit of sun on our skin
you'll never know how i could never love again
a little bit of a smile when we kiss
you'll never remember how much we felt bliss
a little bit of affection in your eyes
you'll never know what its like to see you kiss other guys
a little bit of the night in your arms
you'll never understand that without you my world would be more than harmed
a little bit of the night on my own
you'll never know what i feel like alone
a little bit of stars in the sky
you'll never know that i'll miss you, until i die
i n f i n i t eThe last thing that I thought about before the car hit me on that rainy day where Clara's eyes, those eyes that could take me to any other place than I was right now. They could take me to the bluest ocean, where the millions of bubbles tickled my skin and moved through my hair as they made their way to the surface. They could take me high above the treetops, where time would almost seem to stop as every single square inch of my body tried to absorb the beauty around me. They could take me through the Milky Way, watching the stars shoot by and lighting up my eyes as they took my breath away. Yes, it was Clara's eyes that could take me a million places, and it was Clara's eyes that I thought about in the last moments of my life. It was with Clara's eyes that I grew my wings and learned to fly. Will I ever regret that it was her who occupied the last few seconds of my short lived life? No, I never will. And one day when she joins me I'll be able to tell her how it was only her eyes that
little piece of your heartshiver and shake
quiver and quake
sometimes i wonder when i will ever wake
eyes wide open to the naked blue abyss
in which i desired to drown all the tears and fears
i have gathered among the years i have spent
trying to remember why i continued breathing
in and out the toxins of unrequited emotions
you can place a little piece of your heart into everyone's pockets
but that sliver of sentiment never means anything... at least from you anyways
peel back your forgotten flesh to reveal the memories you buried in your stolen mind
hopelessly ready for a perpetual state of dreams where He loves you
and you don't even know whom He is yet
fever for the fake
no antidote for the ache
It's all over us.In the end it's nothing, just another flaw to judge you by when you die. It's like the devil is taking tallies of the things you felt and did and is plotting them against you in your final resting hour.
Some enjoy living in the shadows.. under that ever pouring gray sky. Deeper and deeper into the chaos and darkness.. until we get so caught up in hurting, that all that's left of us is cold flesh and empty eyes.
Friend. I've see this look before, so clearly in the mirror. I can't say I didn't enjoy the pain. But oh those moments when gray was my favorite color.. I couldn't help but to add some red for dramatics.
Maybe it's the artist in me, couldn't stop the perfect angle, couldn't stop the madness inside from boiling over. Still plotting against the raging twisted emotions inside.
Say friend, is this the final hour? When I can't stop to see you trying to smile.. when I can't stop to try and smile back? What time is this that disillusions and mist implore and raging winds cast us ashore
I love you anywayYou don't have to agree with me,
Behave according to my plans,
Share with me same dreams and aims.
You don't need to smile,
When you don't want.
When you are frustrated, sad or hesitant,
When you make mistakes,
Try new things and fail at them.
I LOVE YOU ANYWAY.
You don't have to be perfect,
Nor to get in touch with perfection.
I want you to be a human,
And to love you with all your
"fors and againsts".
thunder in your eyesDear whispers,
have you ever listened to the starlight? i can hear her sing of things i'd never dreamed of. she told me that she woke up to the most beautiful shade of bruised purple against stark white in the sunset splattered sky. i just thought you should know. i miss watching her with you.
on Sunday mornings i bring myself to wake up like an early bird and stare into the mirror. and i look and tell myself the same story I've told to myself for a long time but never to anyone else. that I am the boy of six feet tall. my mother worked as a nurse in this emergency office that would often be the only lit room in the whole town. of small age I've seen scars and cuts, blood, and more blood. smelled death and sterile hospital spray, heard gruesome words and desperate muttering of prayers which seemed to me, have never done any real practical good to the suffering. my dad has gone to live is rich but fucked up life somewhere across the world an