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Running Dry in a White Paradise.Every bottle that she tipped, he filled with emotion.Running Dry in a White Paradise. by BackShelfSouvenir
Bigmouth never managed to land his staggering foot in it.
Her clock ran silent, they chuckled out, one twenty-something broken,
and the polar with no intent to commit.
Couple bought a cheap motel room, broken glass refurbished the flooring.
She with the llelo, he con gusano soaked mind filled adoring.
Next was the couch, self-medicated comatose sex.
Sun burnt lights off the Venetians. Inside milky cloud rainy season.
Happily together from complex to rough.
Hex marked the spot when his paychecks weren’t enough,
to rebuild her flurries back to mid-face avalanche.
She said, “Your life is a laughingstock, chasing nine to five o‘clock, your talk is babble, you should really consider kissing a smoking hot barrel.”
She knows how to exchange punches but prefers her pen and how to look ladylike on all four limbs.
“Take a walk, before talk becomes fuss and if I’m a lucky little lady, your
He WondersHe wonders how they are doingHe Wonders by AWaterFox
there, up in the sky.
Or perhaps they lay down below
in the cold, hard ground
to which their bodies were given.
He wonders what death is like
because he slept a year
and then four hundred more.
They were gone when he awoke
and their graves are all that there are.
He wonders how they are doing.
He wonders when it will be his turn
to close his eyes and lay adrift.
Or to be buried amidst the earth
to which his body will surely be given.
Will he be remembered like this
He wonders how they are doing
if they miss him
or are watching him
or if they have simply gone.
He wonders -- were they burned?
Were they simply buried?
Do their spirits float or--
or are they anchored to the ground
where their bodies had been offered?
He wonders more often than not
as everyone thinks he is sleepy
when instead his throat is in a knot.
How are they doing
there, up in the sky?
Or perhaps they lady down below
in the cold, hard ground
to which their bodies were given?
Orchestrations of AnxietyAll these grand decisions,Orchestrations of Anxiety by xLuckyxFridayx13x
Monsters leering ‘round the bend
Just can’t compare to all
The bitter monsters in my head
The monsters so grotesque
With their fish-hook teeth and claws
Appear far closer than they seem
Leading fools like me in awe
The fear is ever-crushing
The soft mass in my skull
These many grand decisions
I’ve yet to scrap and cull
I try to rid these krakens
From the sea that is my mind
But I’ll just play my keyboard
Of white letters in due time
The monsters are still snarling
The krakens are awake
Dear God, please make this stop!
At my knees I continue to quake!
Take the krakens from my head
And crush them at the heel!
And the monsters ‘round the corner,
Just tell them I’m not real
For courage has forsaken me
And bravery’s for dolts
And sanity, what good is that?
Convince me this isn’t my fault
The krakens rumble
The monsters creep
I relinquish my pen once more
And attempt to earn some sleep.
Understanding As I try and sleep tonight, two things come into my mind. One is my economics test tomorrow, and the other is about my writing.Understanding by infinitywarriorinc
All I did, had done and will do, revolved around some sort of romantic setting, usually with two different species involved. I knew not why, and for the longest of times, I didn't question it.
So, after a year of animes and mangas, I still find myself preferring romantic settings with different species involved (often nekos, or otherwise.) I asked myself, about two weeks ago, "Why do I enjoy this?"
The questions sprang about in my head: "Is it because I cannot understand what 'love' means?"; "Is it because of my fascination with the possibility of other sentient species?"; "Or perhaps, it just differs from the norm, and it intrigues me more and more?"
Then, I hadn't an idea of what it meant or what it was. But tonight, I think I finally understand. The romance, the Romeo & Juliet, the youkai and the h
1984 Through Music 1984 Through Music1984 Through Music by GoodTiming
Music has the ability to either reflect or inspire with just a simple tune or complicated melody. Whether it comes from an mp3 player, phonograph, or a live band, people constantly turn to music to release the day's stresses and inspire themselves with new ideas. A song has a power that allows anyone to interpret their own meaning and apply it to daily life. For Winston Smith, a Party member in George Orwell's 1984, music allows him to see simplicity and beautiful in a frightening, ugly, and utterly hopeless world. Through songs in the novel, Winston is able to hope for a brighter tomorrow, see respect for the true past, and highlight stronger negative emotions.
Sometimes, music can be used to convey a sense of tragedy or negative emotion. It can reflect a broken spirit through a haunting melody or meaningful lyrics. Orwell plays on this in a scene where Winston sits in the Chestnut Tree Café. He observes three men, J
The Goddess's Forsaken Island - First ContactThe Goddess's Forsaken Island - First Contact by pwassonne
That's it. It should be over there.
Except it isn't.
Actually, wasn't there originally more than one? Like, three of them?
The elevator will be broken, of course.
I haven't been on the island many times, but I remember it quite well, from seeing it through my Goddess's eyes. This time, it will be the other way round. I was repairing my little house, just a normal house, and then I remembered the island. A long time ago, the Goddess left this world. It seems like the island has been deserted ever since.
(And then my Goddess says, I wonder if people settled on it.
That would be fun.
But I'm skeptical.)
The elevator is indeed broken. About half the wooden platform is gone, and there's water everywhere, flowing, I forgot to bring a bucket, there's no way I can get to the basement, never mind, it could be worse. At least there isn't any lava.
I swim away.
The waterfall is right there, and I'm not sure if that's where it's supposed to be. Never mind. It's a long way
Forbidden Fruit"What are you doing?"Forbidden Fruit by mirz-alt
He was standing behind her and she could hear gentle movements, like shifting of cloth. Suddenly soft fabric fell across her eyes. She could feel it tighten around her head as he pulled and knotted it behind her.
"I don't understand?" she asked. She wasn't scared, but a bit of apprehension was creeping into her bones.
She could feel him move in front of her. He was standing close and his hand brushed her cheek. "I want to kiss you," he admitted, his voice both nervous and self-assured.
"But..." she argued, not sure what to say beyond that sole word. She knew she couldn't. She knew she shouldn't.
"See no evil," he murmured.
She didn't understand, but she trembled as he moved towards her.
"It's not a sin if you don't know who's kissing you," he whispered.
As his lips met hers, her heart raced, her arms pulling him close.
"The sin is not in the kissing, " she countered softly, as he pulled away. "The sin is in the wanting it."