Ribbons of November

Hold me tight and drown me deep
Keep your grip
I’ll drown to sleep

Dance me in the red hot heat
Dance me in
I’ll drown to sleep

Dawning in the skies are ribbons of November
Dawning in the dawn of flies
Are ribbons of November

Waken me when there are sparks
Catch me in my dreams
I’ll fly
Take the withered leaves of mourn
Take me here
My dear, I’m torn

Closer than we’ve had before
Closer we will stay to shore
Digging nails in skin and sand
Waving frantic, bloody hands

Dawning in the skies are ribbons of November
Dawning in the dawn of flies
Are ribbons of November

Waken me when there are sparks
Catch me in my dreams
I’ll fly
Take the withered leaves of mourn
Take me here
My dear, I’m torn

Keep me steady, keep me here
Keep my company
Keep me near

Waken me when there are sparks
Catch me in my dreams
I’ll fly
Take the withered leaves of mourn
Take me here
My dear, I’m torn

***Look! Another song! =D

Amnesia and the Igloo

***Writing prompt from http://www.writersdigest.com/WritingPrompts/

You awaken with amnesia in what looks to be an igloo. You have $4 and a rock in one pocket, and a toothbrush in the other. Someone is staring at you. Write this scene.

Please limit your response to 500 words or fewer.


“Who are you?” I asked, feeling eyes upon me.

It was fairly warm in the small space that I observed to also be quite dim. There was only a small fire at the center and it lit shadows of unnerving shapes that threatened to come alive.

The being only smiled and nodded to my consciousness. He sat calmly in front of the fire, refusing to take his unblinking eyes from me.

My heart pounded and I felt chills all over my body. I looked away from the man’s eerie stare, trying to ignore it, but couldn’t. As I turned, I felt something hard jabbing into my flesh and let out a groan. I rubbed my side and realized the existing objects that hid in my pockets.

I sat up, rubbing my head and took a glimpse at the man that never took blue eyes off of me, then just as quickly turned away. He seemed to have a familiar presence and yet I felt fear to be near him. I kept my distance, crawling to the farther side of the igloo where the shadows played diligently.

I let out a breath, looking down, and my long, brunette hair covered my face. Digging inside my pockets, I found a toothbrush and a rock that was wrapped with multiple pieces of paper. I unfurled all the paper from the rock and looked closer at them, maybe hoping for them to be some sort of clue as to where I was and what I’d been doing here. No such luck. The evenly shaped bills were each a dollar and only consisting of four.

Four dollars, a rock, and a toothbrush. What was I supposed to do with those?

Suddenly, I heard the shuffling of a pair of feet and a cough. The man had stood up from where he was and was putting on another sweater and a jacket. Was he planning to leave? I hoped so!

He also took with him, with my wide-eyed surprise, a shiny, metal object that he nonchalantly held in his hand. I felt a twisting in my stomach as I recognized the danger I could be in.

The man saw my reaction to what I had just seen and chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he muttered. I expected for him to say something more. To tell me that it was just a toy, but he loaded the gun in front of me, inserting the bullets into the slots.

“What are you going to do!?”

I needed an answer. I needed to hear that he wasn’t going to use it. That hopefully, whoever this man was, he wasn’t a killer who would murder an innocent living creature, human or animal.

Like the first question I had asked earlier, he gave no answer. This frustrated me, but fear clogged my throat. I was much too afraid to say anything else that might make him use the weapon on me.

I felt my hands shaking. What was going to happen to me?

The Bus

He woke with a start, cold sweat running down his forehead. He turned his head and saw that his clock read 2:04 a.m. Jamie felt his heart beating a rapid pace inside. The darkness of the room and the neon green digits that read the time doubled in presence. He felt the glow of the green shine close to him as the clock sat on the surface of his dresser, unmoving and silent, only blinking a different number on the last digit. 2:05 a.m.
Jamie sighed a quiet relief of mystery. It was just a dream. What was the dream? He closed his eyes, the feeling of weariness growing inside him. There was no comfort in the warmth of his blankets; only the cold, empty, and unnerving feeling of something immense that he just couldn’t figure out.
He lay there, keeping still, surrounded by the shadows of his fear, hoping to fall back asleep away from the possibilities of reality.

The sun rose slowly from behind the clouds and mountains. It shone through Jamie’s windows, giving light to the darkness that was. He groaned in annoyance and confusion. The twelve year old boy threw his pillow towards the window in frustration, and squinted as he watched it hit the wall instead.
He slowly got up, taking his time, and muttering words under his breath. He was tired still, and had no luck in falling back to sleep, last night. Whatever he had dreamed about gave him a fright that he couldn’t understand.
After seeing the brightness of the shine of the sun, the fear was long forgotten, replaced with a hunger that needed to be tended to with breakfast.
“Dad,” he said, sitting himself down on the kitchen table.
“Good morning,” was his reply. He was frying eggs and bacon; the usual Friday breakfast. He flipped them over and pressed the spatula on them, making a loud sizzling noise.
Jamie smelled the first aroma of the day, a heavenly waft of food, drifting into his lungs. His stomach made an audible, grumbling noise that brought forth a chuckle from his father. “Hungry, eh?”
His son nodded, sheepishly, running his tongue over his lips as he anticipated and imagined the taste of bacon in his mouth. Jamie’s eyes stared straight at the pan that his father held in one hand as he lifted it over a plate, Jamie’s, and slid an egg and three pieces of bacon on top, along with a slice of toasted bread. “There you go,” said his father, who served the plate on the table in front of his son.
He watched Jamie’s expression turn from hunger to admiration and back to hunger once more.
Jamie tore into the food, swallowing down what he could at a time and gurgling down his glass of orange juice.
“Slow down,” said his father, “Are you okay? You look a little pale?”
Jamie nodded, gulping down the last piece of bacon. “I had a dream last night...” He looked down at his empty plate, staring at the crumbs of the bread he’d consumed.
“And...that’s why you’re so hungry this morning?” His father raised a brow with a smile on the corner of his lips. He shook his head, patting his son’s head and ruffling his hair, going over to the kitchen counter and picking up his hot mug of coffee.

Bonfire

There's a pulsating glow on a fiery warm night
As the sparks fly high
And the flames flicker light
The essence of strength, and love, and hope
Dances brightly with the stars
That have wandered lost in the dark
Heat on the skin
The dryness so clear
A burning sensation of scorching hot fear
Pushed away gently to feel no more
Only a sense of wanting
Just like before
Its reflection on eyes; kind and warm
The same peaceful life mirrored with charm
Like the music of a beating heart;
The lively rhythm of throbbing art
Its brilliant, luminous, blazing presence
That tells a dream
From bright red embers
Still, it's a symbol of chaos and destruction
An inferno of hell
That brings sinners by seduction

Storm

Splish! Splash! Splish! Splash!

The waves crash down on rocks.
So violent.
The sky growls out thunder.
Louder than silent.

And I just keep wondering...

Those nice sunny days

Lawrence’s favorite month was April. He liked that time of the year because he loved to watch the flowers bloom in the trees, on the prairies, in the garden that belonged to his grandmother, and even in the cracks of the sidewalks.

During those nice, sunny days, I would sit with him in the park. Often, I would fall asleep, but Lawrence would just laugh and lean against me and we would be in complete peace and silence.

The silence that we’d have together wouldn’t last long, though. We’d be rudely interrupted by a phone call from his cell phone. His father would be asking where he was and why he wasn’t home yet. Lawrence would look at the ground with a displeased look and I’d just smile politely at me as he spoke into the receiver.

His parents weren’t bad people, at least, not that I knew. But they did seem overprotective over their only child. Lawrence, nor I, saw no need for that. We both knew that he was already sixteen years of age and quite capable of taking care of himself.

After walking my friend home, he’d give me a wistful smile that made me think everything would be okay. But the sounds of booming thumps that came, which were his father’s footsteps, made me think otherwise.

Lawrence would see the worry in my face and he’d reply, “Everything’s fine.”

He was such a laid back person, and that to myself was comforting. He was always the one supporting me, and I wondered who it was that supported him. When I tripped and fell, it was Lawrence who would crouch down to my level and help me up. If I ever forgot my wallet or had no money, he’d pay for my share of what I needed and wouldn’t ask to be paid back.

Lawrence was a kind, but quiet person. He’d have no problem talking to me, but some subjects were off limits, especially about his home life. I’d been to his house once before, but that was when his parents were off in a formal party, hosted by the company of where his father worked.

When I saw Lawrence’s room, it was empty and clean, but still elegant. It seemed as if he never touched his room or did anything in it. I could understand, I suppose, because most of the day, we were in the game room and also outside just sitting by his pool.

His house was pretty huge, but he didn’t like talking about it or anything else like that, that could’ve separated us into two different worlds. His parents both worked for two successful enterprises that made them a lot of money and they apparently had a large amount of expectations for their son.

I was never envious of him, because he always seemed to amaze me.

The pressure that his parents always put on him was heavily intense and yet he still smiled nonchalantly everyday that I saw him. I suppose he knew of who or what he had to live up to, but he knew he couldn’t be perfect.

Lawrence had his own dreams after all, and so only focused on that and anything else that was important to him. If he had to, he’d tell off his parents just to make it his own life and uncontrolled. I do remember one night when he called me at two o’clock in the morning. I picked up the phone and asked what was wrong. At first, there was only silence, and I was thinking of hanging up, but then came Lawrence’s voice, cracked and distraught. “Lawrence, what’s wrong?” I asked, confused, as I rubbed my eyes open. I heard him take a deep breath and exhale a heavy sigh. “I can’t sleep,” I heard him mumble with a waver in his voice.

I kept him up that night; or rather he kept me up. I didn’t understand what had happened but it seemed as if there was conflict in their house. Neither of us got any sleep as we kept awake on the phone, just talking about things that would randomly come to our heads; anything to distract Lawrence from the situation.

It was unhealthy for him to do that; to keep all his anger in and keep himself from expressing any of it, but I wasn’t one to push, so I didn’t pry. I just thought that he should talk about it whenever he wanted to. Besides, he knew that I’d be there to listen. We were the closest of friends after all.

The next day after that night, both of us arrived at school, tired and anxious. He was twitching all day, and I was just grumpy, but whenever our eyes met, we’d smile; he’d be thanking me for whatever good he’d thought I’d done, and I’d assure him that I’d always be there for him.

This would seldom happen though. Lawrence was a pretty self-composed person and he would rarely ever have a breakdown, though the few times that he did, he would only tell or seek support from me.

Usually, when we were trying to make ourselves feel better, we’d go out and stuff our faces with either cheap junk food or the most expensive cuisine in the city. Of course, most of the time, we’d be more into junk food, but Lawrence loved Italian food. He’d insist on us going to his favorite Italian restaurant and ordering all the specialties.

He claimed to know how to speak Italian, himself, but when I insisted that he say something to me in that language, he’d refuse, turning his head away. Sometimes, Lawrence could be shy like that and he hated it, but I only found it cute.

I liked especially when he was being silly. He’d make the funniest jokes and we’d end up laughing all our worries out as we giggled uncontrollably on the grass.

We’d spend most of our times outside, either in the park or exploring some new territory that we could make into our new secret place.

He loved to explore and also finding new things or places. I was one of the only that he’d invite to go adventuring with him and it gave us both excitement.

At the end of the day, Lawrence would be lying, tired, on the ground with eyes closed and breathing hard. I would slowly make my way out of any obstacles that were there and finally catch up to my best friend.

Lawrence was much faster than me and had much more energy. But eventually, we’d both run out and replaced with muscle aches and exhaustion. He’d give it two days or so until he’d call me to go back to that same place we’d been before and make it our own territory. Sometimes, we’d invite our other friends as well and just all hang out there.

Lawrence was, as I knew him to be, a happy and well-fulfilled child.

Boogie Man

He'll drain your dreams
Replace with screams
And endless streams
Of tears and fear

He'll stalk the dark
Growl quietly to mark
His victims while
He moves in on his prey

Pray, they say
To calm their nerves
To catch their breaths
And lose what's left
Of truth and life itself...

***~~

Ten thousand people scream for their lives
But who in all deserve to survive?

Attempting a romance?

Dearest Marianne,

It breaks my heart to see you with another man holding you in his arms, and so I’ve decided that I should no longer be able to see you, in order for me to live a happy life.

I love you always,
Christopher

Marianne crumpled the letter in her tightly clenched fist. She felt burning anger stirring within her. “Damn you, Christopher,” she whispered to herself as tears rolled down her face.

***I can't do it....it's too hard!!! I know the content could be good, but writing it just grosses me out for some reason. The romance genre is not one I dislike, but putting the words down gives me a sickeing feeling. Maybe if I werent' so childish it could work, but I guess it's because I'm immature and I can't understand the deeper meaning of...'love' if that IS what it's really all about...

Dancing in the Free Summer Breeze

Dancing in the free
In the summer
In the breeze
Dancing in the free summer breeze

Carousels in the sky
Turning a frown into a smile
Dancing in the summer breeze

[Chorus:]
All the world is heaven tonight
And I only have one wish for you
Don’t you dare be the one to say
Don’t you dare be the one

I want you to hold me
I want you to love me
I want you to take me into your heart
And be the one to make you smile

Dancing in the dark
In the winter
Under stars
Dancing in the dark winter stars

Clouds falling from clouds
Turning a frown into a smile
Dancing in the dark winter stars

[Chorus x2]


***Look! I attempted at writing a song :D

The Way She Is

***I figure I should start on my character sketches?

Riley hated her hair. She always complained about how short it was whenever she wanted to tie it up high, and strands would fall out on her forehead. Sometimes, it would be too long for her and she’d threaten to cut it shorter than it already was. Her preferences always differed to whatever mood she had.

She also hated her nails, that were so short, but so bothersome. Whenever they had a chance to grow even a little longer, she’d bring her hand to her face and bite her nails off. Riley could never leave them alone like that. She couldn’t leave anything alone. Everything had to be tampered with according to her or else nothing would change. And in her opinion, that was a bad thing.

She always thought that by doing even a small good deed, she was making a change in the world. I was much younger than her, so being her little sister, of course I couldn’t understand. Still, I don’t think I could ever understand. Riley was such a complex person, so unique, but indifferent to being different. I envied her.

When my sister went out with her friends, I’d wondered where they’d gone because Riley would be tired as hell, but she’d still have the biggest smile on her face. Sometimes, she’d come home carrying a picket sign with her and claim that she was protesting for the good of the Earth. She was such a hippie.

Even her clothes defined her sometimes. She’d usually wear soft-colored shirts or blouses with flowers on them or weird designs that belonged in the 60’s or 70’s or whatever years those were. Riley would also put flowers on her hair or make necklaces out of them. She was so weird, but so happy and full of ambition to change the world for the better.

It wasn’t like she was trying to be a real hippie. It was just how she was. She cared about a lot of things and a lot of people and didn’t care if they didn’t feel the same way towards her. No matter what, she’d stand strongly for what she believed in. That’s how we were raised by our parents after all, but it mostly only got to her instead of me as well.

Ever since I could remember, Riley would be the one to ask questions about these things that mattered the most. “Why does this happen?” or “Can’t anyone do anything?” When our mother or father shook their heads to her questions, she would be determined to be the one that would be able to turn things around and make a difference.

Riley was so bright and so carefree. During one of her nights out, I was permitted to come along with her and her friends. When we came upon a green spacious park, I saw baby trees that were yet to be planted and Riley was looking at me as she held in laughter. “We’re going to be the ones planting them,” she said, playfully, with wonder and excitement in her eyes.

I only thought that she acted like that at home, but that day, I realized it was just how she was.

Poor Riley, though in all her glory of self-righteousness, would be so devastated whenever she found out some of the horrible truths of the world. For example, last night, while we were watching television after dinner, a newscast came on reporting that many animals had died due to people taking tests on them with unsafe chemicals. In response to this, she declared a protest outside of their lab facility for tomorrow night.

I don’t know how she could be so strong. For most people, finding out something as upsetting as this would usually cause them to plunge into deep depression. But Riley was one of the most determined people I knew.

Although, she wasn’t always like this every second of every minute of her life. She’d have her weak moments as well, but she would never let anyone see her at those times. Riley was afraid that if she showed any negative emotions or actions around a large number of people, it would set off a bad effect on society. That was how she saw it.

On television or the radio, we’d see things like old western movies. In those movies, the cowboys would judge upon whoever came into the bar and start a fight with them until they scheduled a duel at sunset. The other characters wouldn’t do anything really, except maybe one or two would take sides and assist or they’d all hide.

Riley’s opinions of movies such as these were of distaste. I could tell immediately that it wasn’t to her liking anyways. Anything that included guns and fighting was off her list. She watched mostly the news. Anything that would give her something to do so she could protest or write letters to the government or even pick up some garbage at the local parks.

It was always a mystery to me of why or how the garbage could end up at such a place like a park. My sister would look at me and reply, “Some people don’t understand that when they litter or leave garbage behind, they’re making filth in their own home.”

Riley was often frustrated with the others around her who didn’t have time to consider the Earth that they lived in. She didn’t mind that they weren’t like her, an environmentalist who just wants to help out with anything or even anyone that needs it, but she couldn’t stand when they’d be the complete opposite of her. Someone who purposely tried to ruin the world they lived in.

Torture Device

Tremble with fear master

You are not all that powerful...

I watched as he lay still on the bed. He was awake, I knew, but I couldn't help but feel worried that he was slowly slipping away. All the things he did in the past didn't matter now. Everything he'd done was only of instict to survive. Who could blame him?

"Nghh..." He groaned in pain as he tried to move into a more comfortable position on his side. I quickly rushed over to help him, but when I reached an arm over, he slapped it away, refusing my help. So stupid.

I glared at him, retreating a few steps back from the bed. Why'd he have to be like this? I wanted to help him, but he just couldn't understand a simple gesture like that.

After much struggle, he finally settled down, looking at me with cold, empty eyes and I stared back. We were communicating with silence, but I didn't know what he was trying to tell me. It was as if he were already dead.

I cringed, shuddering and trying to force the tears back. Was he doing this on purpose? How cruel. He was always so cruel, even now. Why?

I sighed, swallowing my feelings down and feeling the lump in my throat. This was just too upsetting to think about. Everything about him was just too much! If he kept this up...if he kept refusing to accept and acknowledge my presence here the way it is, then what would happen to him? No one else would care for him like I would.

And I was the only one he didn't want help from. The feeling of knowing this made my insides hurt, and my eyes itched with tears that have long waited to be cried. I rubbed my eyes, miserably, turning away so he couldn't see. I tried hard, but the tears just kept rolling down, one by one, and in no time, I was shaking and sobbing.

It was a miserable, horrible feeling, but a nice one as well. To finally let it all out. But then again, to let it all out where he could see. I'll never forgive myself for this, I thought, shaking my head as I gasped for air.

I felt a hand, gently patting my head. I sniffed my tears aside, looking up through my blurred eyes and saw his figure in front of me. Why does he make me feel like this? So much more inferior to him than I already am. And yet, I can't bring myself to hate him. I just can't.

He brushed my hair away from my face and just kept looking at me. I felt his eyes tearing into my soul as if he were the one being who could determine whether I could ever be worthy enough to be alive. I bit my lip, glaring down and refusing to meet his eyes. Because I'm not as weak as he thinks.

"But you are," he said, matter of factly. My heart stopped cold. He could even see what was so clearly written on my face. Was I really that blatantly obvious???

I won't smile again
I won't ever be loved
You can't do this to me
You can hear what I say so please talk to me
You never talk to me...
-Ra


***I'm bored...and I don't have writer's block...I just don't have much to write about =/

Blasphemy?

Isn't it blasphemy to compare Jesus Christ or God to a normal human being..?

Trying at Details

He turned, his eyes wide with the look of death on his face. Not a sound was made, but he knew that his enemies were there, watching him. He could feel a set of eyes focused on only him, the feeling itching inside where it hurt the most.

Suddenly, something hissed from the other direction; a deserted hallway that stretched for miles it seemed. He held in his breath, gathering his thoughts altogether as he tried to calm the beating of his heart.

The blood-stained walls and ceiling blurred as they danced around, shuffling the doors and staircases. Was this just an illusion or was it real? Nothing could be differentiated from reality to dreams anymore or vice-versa.

A sort of music wafted in the air. Someone had started playing the organ. The eerie echoes of the faint tune being played gave a haunting atmosphere throughout the building. Then a female voice had started singing in a high opera voice.



"Who do you think you are...?" he asked viciously, his teeth just barely touching the surface of her neck. "Don't you know I'll kill you?"

"I know you are evil...and that no matter what, you won't ever be able to live normally like humans. And I know...that I must kill you." Her voice had a sort of defiance. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. She'd never dealt with this kind of animal before. A vampire!

He laughed, hysterically, the loud, booming noise that could be heard from miles away to make even the wolves

Unfinished Poem...so no title yet

Dark solace of my heart
Come take me now
Darkness from within
From the child I once knew
Forever gone from temples
The heavens scream out
A theif in the night
Has stolen the treasure
A theif in the light
Has stolen my heart
Breaking to spectrums of colours
Beneath the ocean


***work in progress

To A Nightmare

***Poem from Writing class

Seeping blood in dreams corrupted
Like faces from the morgue of hell
Distant screams of giddy devils
Demons come to ring the bell
Dancing in the twilight zones
A comfort they can find alone
Shining lights dim and burst
Turns to red; the damned and cursed
To feed on souls lost from heaven
To sink sharp teeth on rotting flesh
To turn their hunger to a nightmare
Eating hearts out from dead kids' chests
Children wail and scream at night
Awoken from their quiet slumber
Pray for angels in the light
Instead of monsters brought by thunder

Solemn Retreat

Two weeks I haven't entered a new post/entry...writer's block maybe? Or possibly a loss for ideas...

I did try to write some new poetry, but I was unable to conclude most of them...

This one was written only hours ago, though. I admit I lost interest at the end, so it might seem a little sloppy there. I think it could possibly be better, but I can appreciate its current form right now.

Solemn Retreat

Ocean waves caress the sun
A moonlight gaze now hung
Mildew flowers seen; untold
Hurricane storms unfolds
Deafening the sound of a beating heart
Mine in which was torn apart
Loosen the strands of time again
Forever make a secret end
To cover up Pacific's dime
Of neverending rhymes
Unrelated; that which turns to dust
And a fake, fanged sliver cut
Unknown to those; the fishes that surround
Almost in a circle; the center where they are bound

Maybe it's time to try something new; something different. My poetry seems to be all the same and that bothers me like an itch I can't seem to scratch. They're satisfying, but maybe that's not good enough. I guess I'll just try to be better. Use a wider vocabulary, take a look at some examples from other poets, famous or not, etc.

Ah...I'm stressed and I just need to think about other things.

More writes later! :/

And then she said, "Thanks!"

Sooo yea....Happy Thanksgiving to everyone ._.

Do I seem different?

Make me blind

Cover my eyes

You can do what you want

I'm paralyzed by the perfect mood

When we're dancing with blindfolds on

-The Rasmus

I feel as if the world has changed.

Or maybe it's me?

I look around and see that some things are still the same, but some things are also different.

My father is still the same. He's still a fool.

My mother is different. Maybe not working has given her what she needs?

My brother is still the same. He's still a failure.

My sister is different. Is it me or is she a little more bashful this year? And more spoiled as well...

My friends are neither the same nor different for I have failed to get close enough to them to actually know much of any extra details. But I have learned a few more things. :)

I feel different somehow, as well. As if the 'want' of everything in my life has gotten more intense. Indeed, I am a little more ambitious, though that will not stop me from my perfectionist ways and procrastination. Oh, I wish it would! D:

Work is a bore. What has happened? I used to enjoy the luxury of earning money so easily by barely doing anything. But doing nothing is the same as me being miserable. I just can't stand it! Luckily for me, work has been put off for a while, which is very happy-making...no matter what anyone says!

I also seem to attract more people to me. Wherever I go, I always catch people's eyes...or am I being paranoid? Is this a bad thing? Maybe I'm being paranoid...but it seems to me like there are people out there who just...I don't know...STOP LOOKING AT ME! I mean...do what you wish, I can't tell anyone what to do and it's not like anyone will listen to me anyways...er right? No? Well, whatever then.

I just feel as if I realized that there's more to the world, and I mean much, MUCH more!

Happy days are here again~

I see the city lights all around me

Everyone's obsucre

Ten million people each with their problems

Why should anyone care?

-Kutless

Cotton Candy Wonderland

Look to the sky

Look to the night

When everything's shy

Cuz everything's right

Make me a pie

Make me a lie

Make me a dream

That will make me to fly

Dream of a world

Where everything's nice

Dream me a day

When everything's twice

Of what everything could be

Or would be or should be

Dream me of things

Like candy and tea

Society's Truth

She laughs in pure joy
A sound so familiar
To bright sunshine days
The breaking of summer
Where once we were friends
The feeling suppressed
A great deal of pain
We no longer possess
Miss the one who was there
To hold when alone and push out of rage
Think of the one who’s now missing
From life’s stories forgotten and tormenting cage

He chuckles in sick humor
The turning of heads
Because a noise such as this
Means an overdose of meds
People walk by so casual, so cool
They watch from the corners of their eyes
The becoming of the fool
A relentless gossip, a rumor, a lie
No one deserves this
Not you my friend
Goodbye...

They walk in a group
Acting their way through the halls
As if they were all still good friends
Not a single withdrawal
How do they stand this?
When inside they cry
An unbearable relation to each other
An abominable lie

I sit silently from where I am
The lights dim and flicker
Like lightning in a bottle
I think I feel sicker!
Just watching those around me
As they converse and joke around
The people that are real mixed with fakes
Like a box for the lost and found
I buy none of this
And will not accept
The untrue words of another
That should be hastily swept


***Oh yea, I totally multi-tasked! Watching a movie, while doing homework, and also writing this piece! I'm too awesome for my own good D:

Can you feel it?

Can you feel it?
The raw emotion growing inside you
Deeper within than the soul can hide
Throbbing for an escape
And slowly seeping out
Like a heavy yearning from underneath the ocean

Is it me?
Or is it the world
Trying to seduce this body?
It's ever-changing atmosphere surrounding me
Like a blanket carressing every part of my skin
And softly whispering,
"Feel the weight on your shoulders..."

A falling leaf -unfinished-

The smell of the October autumn breeze


Fills my nose with scents of pumpkin pie and turkey dinners


A low gust of wind blows by


And I'm swept away by the sights I see





Look how the children laugh and play


Stomping on the leaves that crunch to their amusement!


Look how the grandmothers and grandfathers smile


A warm expression on their face as they watch their

Torture Eyes

What an idiot.
Doesn’t he know of his piercing gaze?
Doesn’t he know of his painful good looks?
Or is he just sadistic?

A smile.
A stare.
A wink.
A dare.

Were you forced to know me?
Did you know you hurt me?
Don’t you know you kill me?

Just by noticing my presence
It’s as if you’re stabbing at my heart
I don’t want you to stop
And so I shall never beg
Never speak
Never take notice of you
No matter how you take notice of me...

Can't think of a title...

Doubtful lonely heaven nights
Creep up in the afterlight
Make a dream to be nice
Just to feel my heart again
All of this from silent prayers
All of this my soul can't bear
Time to wish for faith in vain
Not to lose that one last grain

The one who told me to die; to cry; to mind
Not what I've been told before
But what I've been told now
The one who made me a wingless bird
Made me a single herd
Would make me a forgotten word
It was me

Anger in a bottle tossed
Joys and happiness all lost
Make me think of you again
Writing from an inkless pen
The unfeelings that I feel are still
The forces I will force to will
Until the moment I recede
From then and when I start to bleed


***Inspired by 'Sleeping Sun' by Nightwish

EDIT: I changed 'It was you' to 'It was me'
I guess it sounds better.

Faraway Dreams

All around me, there is life.
All I see are faces of death.
Make me think of a newfound wife-
Better yet, her last breath!
The thought of red
Fingerprint trails,
A small baby's head,
Nothing fails.
Three times the pain,
One hundred screams
Of a non-existent name
Formed by faraway dreams.
As if a stale whisper calls,
The feeling sinks in.
A heavy ten-foot doll
Looms over with a grin.
It's hand stretches out,
Waiting to envelope mine
And I have no doubt
That this is a sign.
One hundred screams
Of agony and suffering
Formed by faraway dreams
Of the doll still hovering...

Mercury

Back turned, she swore silently as the mark deepened red with pain. A searing hot sensation emitted from that one spot and spread throughout her whole body as if it were a disease that threatened to take her. She shook her head, refusing to give in, and took the shine of the blade as a sign. There was still moonlight shining over her like a mother watching her baby and waiting for their forever slumber.


A creak of the door woke her from her thoughts and she turned, quickly, but not fast enough to see. It had slipped in. How could she have been so careless? The even thumping of a heart sped faster into a rapid beat. Her head felt light and she gasped with horror of what was to come. The blurring images of what was once reality was dissipating before her into black and white oblivion. Her swaying movements were uncoordinated, yet graceful, like the death of a newborn and then there was nothing.

[[To be continued...?]]

An End?

Will the world ever stop spinning?

Won't the strange man in the black hood just let go of the rope, attached to the noose, around the innocent one's neck?

Won't the dog ever do anything to the cat rather than just chase and bark at it?

The earth is a large, vast place, but too small for the majority of us humans.

So that begs the question.

When will it end?

When will it all end?

The Fallen, The Forgotten

The Fallen, The Forgotten

Trapped by a sea of darkness
Silence becomes the dream
An everlasting hope of the dreaded

As pieces fall into place
The landing becomes more clear
And they're swallowed up in the sweetest embrace
No longer is there fear

Still they wander, lost and roaming
Their eyes lifeless from what once was
Looking, searching- finding nothing!

Danger all around
Mirrorring every direction
There is no safe place to turn to
No recollection
No connection
No protection...