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Solitude With Falling LeavesI'm terrified to stop writing, because when I do I'll have to think about all the things that are slowly killing me.

Something You Can't FixWe're in the woods, just the two of us. I have on my best trainers, the ones with rainbow laces and the place on the back that Max chewed through when he was just a puppy. Your steps are bigger than mine but it's a game – I try to jump into the hole your shoes leave behind. I'm a frog; I'm a kangaroo; I'm magic.
"My legs hurt" I tell you
"It's just a bit further."
You sit and pull me down beside you, point through the undergrowth "Do you see it?"
I shake my head and you pull me up, pushing towards a tree until I climb. "The pond, do you see the pond?"
From up here, I can. It is a fractured, jagged edge lying on the ground.
"When t

The End That No One NoticedThe Universe blinks and humanity, in all its cruel glory, comes into existence.
It blinks again, and we are gone.

The Shifting Nature of RealityYou asked me, "In these dreams, what does it look like?" I told you it looks different every time. Sometimes it's like a million feathers falling, sometimes it's like snow, sometimes it's like little stones, sometimes like ash, sometimes like a fine sand blowing across the hills. It's always silent. It falls around me but it never touches me. It never sticks. I told you sometimes I see dim figures walking in the distance through all the falling white. I told you I wish one would turn around and come to me. I wish one had your face. I wish the pink of your cheeks and blue of your eyes would appear to me unveiled from out of the drift. But the

Philosophers PoemThe truth rises and flies
On your ember breath of sighs
A phoenix rising in your eyes
Consumed with passion, then it dies.

Spider silken silver cords
Tying close the rabid hordes
Interlacing colored words
Soars the soul on painted birds

Try to find the meaning here
Curiosity dipped in fear
Candied layers fool the seer
No more truth seen in her tears

Poked and prodded with the pen
The paper gives it up again
Ink like blood fools wise men
Keeping secrets in its den

All the coins that were spent
All the ships that were sent
always with the wrong intent
truth themselves they can't invent

Heartened truth we cannot find
graspi

Frozen Heart

♡To freeze my heart
I'll sleep in the rain
Rain rain
Take the pain away

I won't cry in pain
Even if every tear
washed away in the rain

Every time I look ahead
I don't cry
Because you aren't dead
You didn't die

I didn't shed a tear
Because you're still here
A frozen heart
with no fear♡

Butterfly pt.5 _Done_

I try to take a breath. All I inhale is death. I'll sit here till my body rots, with the blood. The pain sinks in. All I feel is hate. The world is no longer free. Our leader is fear. Everyone forgets hope. The love is fatting. You act like everything is ok. It's not. No one noes anything anymore. They hide the fear, they hide the remorse. They hide it all behind the laughs and smiles. No one is ok. We all wonder. Welcome to the end.

The Banker's VeinsMoney is the blood of society.

100ThemesChallenge - RotFruit flies over a kitchen sink and reddish paint splashed across the tiles in a vicious X. Smashed china crunches beneath feet that don't dare move and somewhere something bigger than a mouse scurries for cover. Screams from squemish women - one faints and in a pointless act of chivalry a man swears in the direction of the noise.
Glares at the man - the silence has been broken and along with it something far less tangible; an ambience of narcissistic respect for this person they had never spoken to. He hangs his head turns away looking ill. Another makes a move to pick up the disarrayed furniture and someone notices; steps forward to help h

The Love Hates BackSo yes, that was the only reason I kissed you; to see if tendresse would do what anger could not.

The Tower In The AsylumThere's not enough blood in me for how much I want to bleed.

Bed of darknessI lie in darkness,
As if it were my bed.
It is where I feel the most at home.

In my darkness,
I draw close the emptiness,
As if it were the warmest blanket in existence.

And for my pillow?
There is nothing.
It's only a metaphor, for crying out loud.

A testament to finding love.It was an easy start, but it was a race that was yet to be run in its entirety, each time he catches the wind, the world pulls him back. Living like a broken kite stuck on moulding string he drags himself into the air as the wind rises. Pulling the hands that held him tenderly he folds dreams around him in the tattered rags of ten year old clothes.

Was it so quiet?
The first night that I met you
Was it this cold then?

Sleepily reaching to beckon the clashing of feet, the crushing of lips, the entrancement of hands and the pulse of eyes that hold onto endangered landscapes of flesh. The last of his dreams of love holds itself stubbornly

Blank, White, Sheet of nothingI sat there thinking of what to type
Staring at the blank
White
Sheet of nothing
And I thought of all the darkness I had gone though
all the shit
all my mistakes
all the fucked up things of done
And then I thought about of all the love
the desire
the awesomeness
the greatest things that I could feel
emotionally
and a smirked at the page
I was ready
And slowly I rested my fingers on the beautiful keys
And typed

'I sat there thinking of what to type
Staring at the blank
White
Sheet of nothing…'

Immortal Arpeggio Ch. 1 Salty waves beat a vicious tattoo against the sharp rocky cliff foot of Kavanagh Island, a tiny, tropical place famous for its beautiful sunrises and excellent learning centers. On the porch of one of those famed hotels built sidled up to the edge of the cliff, allowing its porches to stick out over the edge, Tyler tried to rip a strange mans strangling hand away from his abused throat, endeavoring to open his airways and take another precious breath. The man had him dangling over a terrifying drop down into the raging ocean below.

"Why…" Tyler wheezed, "Why… why are you doing… this." Lack of air took its toll on Tyler

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The Ending of LivesJust then, a suspiciously bullet-sized hole tore apart several billion rather crucial neurons in his brain, causing this line of thought, and indeed the entirety of his flesh, to halt abruptly and not continue for the rest of time.

The Place Under The TreesYou always brought me to the same spot when you wanted to talk. The conversation would mostly consist of minute statements followed by gruelling silence. The cold air would be tense around our ears and lips, as if we knew some killer statement would strike and we would change these words to mean something bad? good? Who knew at this point? You puffed away at your cigarette in the snowy spot we picked as the silence remained. We never did talk that day.

Untitled, as of yetDid you think I was cool when you met me? I worried about that. I worried that you would think I was too much when you met me. Because I was listening to Patti Smith while we watched Tim Burton movies, because I was too high to think straight and fell asleep all the time and wore those fake topsiders and hated everybody in my classes. I worried that you would think I was trying to be cool, and think that I was failing because all of those things were pretty not cool.
But I didn't care a lot and you said "So you're pretty eccentric huh?" when you met me and I said, "I don't think so, no?" And I was confused. So we just danced at Sundance and

The InfantThere is a wail of inarticulate need, that is a child's first grasping after language, for sounds that mean 'wet' or 'food' or 'pin'. There's a shriek of terror – that there is no one here and that there may never be anyone here ever again. There's that latitudinous wah-wah, not unlike the call to mosque in the middle east or improvised song; this is creative crying, fun crying, from babies who while not especially unhappy have failed to register that we like to constrain weeping to conditions of distress.

Perhaps the saddest of all is the muted, habitual mewl of a baby who may be perfectly miserable but who, whether through neglect or

The CrookedThe way you tilted your head when you were listening, when you were smiling, when you were happy, when you were sad, when you were tired, when you were crying. The way your head was never on quite straight.

The Drowning of SorrowsAnd you say that you're okay, but you're sitting there drinking, wearing that suit like armour.

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The Former And The Latter

by ~Tohroe, Oct 26, 2010, 6:42:21 AM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

I want to have a child, who asks me what war was.

The Former And The Latterby ~Tohroe

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

©2010-2013 ~Tohroe

Two of my ambitions combined into one snappy little sentence!

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~BlueRookie Jan 18, 2011 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Me too...

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~Xerolien Oct 27, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

Genius!

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~Tohroe Oct 27, 2010

Thank you!

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~Xerolien Oct 27, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

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!Ginjon-Leprechaun Oct 27, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

A very very good way of expressing the different values and realities the world needs in one short sentence. Wonderful!

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~Tohroe Oct 27, 2010

Thank you, but I wish I could make my pieces longer. They all seem to be one liners at the moment.

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~Nurgal Oct 27, 2010

Whoa, never seen such a strong message delivered in such a small number of words!

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~Tohroe Oct 27, 2010

Thank you for serious clapping man.

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*OrenAsher Oct 27, 2010

Interesting that this seems to imply that war no longer exists because you say, "...what war was." I very much like that idea, of course. It would be lovely to have a child someday who asks me about what war was the way that they might ask me who Julius Caesar was or something.

Thank you for submitting this to #the-thinkers

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~Tohroe Oct 27, 2010

That was pretty much the idea. Thank you.

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