Settle your bones, love,
as you lay them next to mine.
Rest your weary body,
and let your muscles
pay their time.
Let my fingertips dance,
their way along your spine.
I am full with peace,
Let me give you what
SafeThis thing has existed within me
scratching, clawing, gnawing away on the inside
governing each aspect of my world
It writhes with fear and hunger
and it never stops
Until your touch sends stillness
deep into my core
I can orient myself around you
and see and hear and think
Your touch is clarity
Soul Burn: Surviving the Storm Like the wind and the thunder preceding the rain, it is his presence and his words that reach me before his hands. There are only seconds for me to register the wall of seething air before I am engulfed in pain.
"How dare you correct me in front of your father!" He rushes me from behind, but I am not surprised. It starts this way every time. His fingernails cut into my scalp, fingers ripping at my hair to force my head backwards. "This is what you deserve for straying from your place."
I twist under his hand to face him, breath pushed from my chest as I am slammed against the wall. I am cornered. And I am almost ashamed that it takes this little slice of hell for my faith in the Gods to surface. I pray, not to Karma, but to Justice, asking for this to end swiftly and to separate our legal joining. I pray, not to Death, but to Life, asking for her to create a new fate in which I can s
Soul Burn: Touch He’s inside my room, sitting down on my bed, his clothes softly brushing against the blankets. Though the door is shut, I can still hear voices murmuring in the hallway outside. A small ceramic bottle hangs lazily in his hand. He sips from it every so often, scowling as he swallows. From the scent wafting my way, I’d be scowling too. He lowers the bottle, tips his head, and peers at me from the corner of his eye. Steel gray, like the daggers he keeps attached to him. Shit. Pull your head out of your ass and focus.
"What did you want to talk about?" He takes another swig from the bottle.
"I need to know... Well the thing is, I just-" What is it about this man that turns me into a stuttering, shivering mess? I stare at the bottle in his hand as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Everything I’m trying to keep under control is bouncing about inside my he
Sleepless NightsAnd I can't sleep at night.
I refuse, the clenching in my gut
hoping to hold down the rising sun.
I am not ready.
I am not prepared.
I can no longer handle this.
Soul Burn: Accusation "Why? How could you marry him?" Gaia's anger contorts her face into a frown, but, just like her mother, it doesn't manage to mar her beautiful features. She stands before me feet planted firmly on the ground, hands clenched tight, leaning forward with her own question as if physically projecting it will force me to answer. "He's soulless, he's a killer! How could you bind yourself for life to a monster like him?"
"First of all, lose the tone and maybe we can actually have this conversation." I keep my hands busy preparing the food in front of me to refrain from turning around and grabbing her. This kitchen is usually a haven for me where I can relax and share food with my family. It takes most of my will to not smack the accusation off of her mouth. Naz wouldn't be too pleased if I hurt her darling daughter. "You are in my house. You will respect both me and my husband."
I hear her t
FearYou cannot tell me
There is nothing to fear
of the dark
When all I see in the shadows
is the multitude of my past sins
Cliche"I want to spend my life with you," is not a cliche.
I know you can feel it
in the goosebumps that rise
from my skin at your touch
Soul Burn: Differences They walked leisurely, an odd pairing, along the main street heading north of the city. Their voices pierced the air around them as they argued over what had started as a trivial matter. But it was dark, as the lamps lining the street did not cast much light, and so they walked hand in hand,their magic trying to over power the other as much as their words.
"But why doesn't your Kingdom celebrate birthdays?"
"Well, firstly, stop trying to give me frostbite and maybe I'll tell you. You're letting your magic intertwine with your emotions."
"Oh, please. Every time you're irritated I get another blister on my palm. Lead by example, o chosen one." Amanda tilted her head to look up at him, barely suppressing the grin on her face. Garrett raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern, and her laugh echoed against the buildings around them. "Maybe we should try it at the same
Soul Burn: Last Moments The bed hardly made a sound as she laid Garrett down atop the mattress. His paper thin body barely rustled the sheets, while her weight created valleys as she lowered herself down beside him. Their bedroom was silent, the air heavy; she could hear the rattling in his lungs with each breath he drew in.
"I'm not oblivious, Garrett. I knew that as soon as F'neir died your body would begin to deteriorate." Amanda reached up and cradled his face against her palm, her thumb stroking his cheek. "I just hoped the process would take time, a lot of time.
Garrett snorted. "Hey, get that sad look off your face. I could still kick someone's ass if I wanted to."
Amanda wrapped her arm around his chest. His ribs visibly pushed against his skin and scar tissue. She pulled herself into him, her lips fluttering down just below his collar bone. "Shush. You need to rest."
Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers think
We may dream our reality.
With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?
Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.
When no one speaks to me for hours
I begin to wonder
Is everyone dreaming a reality that includes
The whole café but me?
The street outside the window
With passing strangers, dogs and cars
Is a whole new Milky Way
Waiting to be discovered.
But I am no space explorer
Aliens are beyond my reach.
Whispers of the people around
Reach my ears distinctly
Like waves lapping on the shore.
Words on paper go no way
Towards proving that I was ever here
My identity is slowly condensed
Not into the people who kno
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
pyromania.I tasted your lips sideways,
and they were lit like
but in reality,
your breath simply hovered
above the bowl,
and you smiled at me
as you lost control.
I re-create my world
from what the moon has left hidden,
soft motes and shafts of twilight,
tucked away in the shadows of night.
They spin like tendrils,
silver wisps that trace outlines
of city streets and skylines,
and spatter their traces over the paths
that greet my feet in the morning
and wake the world anew.
They grow warm and feral
starting in golden buds,
threading their way through fields
and blooming in a riot of horizon
that yields up its bounty
and gifts the waiting world.
They make songs from scattered words
and music that clatters from clouds,
caught humming on the wings of starlings.
They paint pictures with faces
and colors that bloom from landscapes -
all captured in the days lazy palette,
swelling the world in bee sung glory
where the sun crests its orbit
and carves out the new day
tutorialtake an evening -
reclassify emotions as chemical compounds.
remove one atom,
see what changes.
take your field notes, transcribe them
back to front.
add line breaks.
be scientific. be too scientific.
replace the word 'entropy'
with the word 'god'.
be so full of want that you can feel it
scraping its numb jaws against your insides.
write about flowers instead.
make your first line provocative.
follow it, let it unfurl -
inauthentic, try again.
who the fuck
read, find inspiration.
find new ways to plagiarize old ideas.
hash and rehash,
slash and burn.
look at the mess you've made.
spend an hour flicking back and forth -
write about family. if it hurts too little,
write about flowers instead.
use a word bank.
write in the dark.
write from within your own skull.
write your litanies.
write your lines.
z.perhaps i was born to be a bird for you,
grey wings sprouting from distended shoulder bones;
the inside of your eyes are darker than midnight,
your hands having bled blue until you could see right through them,
glasslike, they shimmer around my face
& it doesn't matter that they're cold,
the mountain ridges that you've carved for yourself are not something to shy away from,
not something to be ashamed of;
lie still as i run my hands like hikers across your mistakes,
your old certainties,
lie still as i discover how it is that you came to be here now,
so quiet & unsure,
so caught within the old sheet of your past,
lie still as i discover every fuck up you've ever made,
every moment of control that slipped out of reach,
every extra drop of sanity that escaped from your pores.
i have always shivered my way into tomorrow,
too busy searching for something i couldn't find to warm my own bones,
too busy to realize that i was dying of a chill i couldn't cont
AnimeAs soon as i saw Anime on Tv I was happy to see it played,
I Like inuyasha, FMA, Naruto and many others but why?
At 34 years old loving anime, isn't this strange?
Loving Anime is loving someone
You cherish it forever
Until You die but Anime is Amazing what they can do today..
Its in 2-D, 3-D and CG's But no matter what,
Anime to me will always cherish me into my heart and soul
When i was younger Anime never existed,Why?
Anime will stay into the younger kids today,
Anime will rule the world maybe someday?
What can you do not without a pencil today?
You Can draw Anime,
You Can always give you're best shot to draw even if you're not good enough,
True isn't it?
You can put Anime on Tv, on a website about everything,Anime Kick Butt.
Who are you?"Who are you?"
said the Caterpillar.
"Who are you?"
But how could she answer?
The identity of a person is not so
easily known, and one has to think very hard
before one can say with certainty.
She could be a beautiful winged horse whose flesh
glows with the golden, incandescent dust of fairies, her
mane a sugary concoction of pinks and blues with streaks of
black and green whilst her tail is a brazen red that would shock the senses of
even the wildest of flames.
Or perhaps she could be a jellyfish that carves paths through
the darkest and lightest of waters, the bell shape of her body
as large as her blue skirts and her trailing tentacles as
pretty and glittering and perhaps even brighter than
the heavenly stars that hang from the
silver strings attached to
the sturdy yet gentle fingers of the puppet master.
Or even, perhaps, she could be a pixie, with fluttering
dragonfly wings that beat faster tha
Sex Object Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
A place where she should be able
to call her own, between her legs.
She feels that men only want her,
a true want, to have sex with her, and
The breasts she has, they gain
stares from men passing by, tripping
over themselves to find a chance to touch.
When will she stop being looked at,
as an object of sex? when will a man
see her as someone he may spend his
Her hips curve, and she doesnt
want your hands on them, if your
just going to touch her skin.
She wants a man to touch her soul,
not just touch her skin, and run his fingers
where they do not belong.
What made these men think, she
is just a sex object, a toy that could be
put on display, and taken whenever they
Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
Proud she is though, that she hasnt
given in, hasnt