Life's A PlayI lie on my bed in the dark
As the radio switches to a song
And Sam Smith's acting like my background music
Almost as though my depressing life is a movie.
I don't know what the words are saying
Because I'm staring at the screen of a phone
That was said to bring me back together;
Like a paper doll with a rip in it,
Communication with the one I miss would be my scotch tape.
As the phone rings,
I jump up to answer it
But it's not him
So I leave it to ring for a millenium.
Twelve Days Without A Saviorit's been twelve days since i've heard your voice
and i swear that we're back at the start now;
i'm in love with fictional psychopathic masterminds whilst i dream of a way to cripple myself-
piece by fucking piece.
Sadist's Funflock & run whilst you can
for the ones with masks & chainsaws are getting closer, nearer,
they're getting faster,
and at some point
you'll be too tired to run
and they'll come up behind you, with a noose, a knife, or shackles,
and they will dismember you in the most poetic way possible.
Last WordsPanting, a lack of breath caught up to her as she dove down to pick up a video camera lying on the floor. She turned the blood-smeared thing on, the banging of a door warning her to hurry up. The light went on, & her dilated pupils were the focus point of the image, as well as her brunette hair tied up in a bun as her pale skin contrasted the entire picture.
“If you’re viewing this..” she croaked, coughing, “then I died.”
Heat insulated & escaped her body over & over again, like a little girl having night terrors in the middle of the night. A dangling, flickering light source hung above her, the warm brightness illuminating her cheekbones. Stammering, sweat dripped down her neck as she searched for words. She knew she didn’t have much time left before that thing outside the door would break through & kill her.
“Rey, I’m sorry . . . you were right, I shouldn’t have chosen to go-”
She spat out blood.
“And Dad, I
Turn of the HeadSitting in the back of Dana's car
I remember the time her daughter felt sick & I comforted her
And you were behind me when I turned my head around,
Staring at me,
As though I'd killed someone.
Then again, you've never seen me show compassion towards anyone like that before
Because I'm a cruel-hearted monster who can't learn to shed tears in front of people she doesn't trust.
Bird (II)Once I swore to myself that I’d learn how to fly
To be independent like the television once said
But then I realized that I prefer to be chained to someone’s hand
As the cuff surrounding my heart could get tighter & tighter
Until it would bleed out;
Staining the metal red,
‘Til my captor would finally realize what extents I’d go to for him.
Ravens Can't SingI remember when you said I sing like an angel compared to your sister
The time you said I could release a certain tone & pitch of my voice
Just for you.
Though the only time I've ever heard you
Was when we had to for a goddamn play parents viewed at metaphorical gunpoint.
Maybe angels don't actually have hymns that they bellow whilst their silhouette counters raining gold.
relying on your profession to make you bravethirty-six hour days and poorly brewed, gelatinous coffee pooling in your belly does not mean that you are a poet. the act of pulling on gloves and pressing your hands into a cold, stiffening cadaver does not mean that you are closer to god and therefore more capable of reaching others with your words. all it means is that you're dog tired, your eyes are red raw from over-blinking and your slim, pretty hands are shaking around that discoloured lung as you struggle to push vomit back down your throat; it means that, when you get home and tear out your notebook in a rush driven by sleep deprivation, you're nonsensical; it means that, when i stumble into bed at night and think of the words i've read today, i don't think about yours because they're as empty of life as the silent cadavers you tear apart. and i don't know about you, but none of that sounds particularly grandiose or poetic to me.
When The Cat KnocksWelcome back – please, sit down, take the weight off your feet, have some tea. I was just having a conversation with an old friend, and fixing up to call on her in her home at some point.
I guess that’s one of the reasons I like to do home visits for security consultations and the like – I want to meet people and help them, as opposed to my younger days, when I wanted to meet people and take their valuables. That did not mean I did not get to know them as well – take, for example, the Chelsea housewife I met in the early eighties.
It was at the height of the Sloane ranger movement, and this particular ground floor flat belonged to a scion of that movement. She was in her PR job that morning, so I decided to break in and relieve her debt burden somewhat. Entering the flat was easy enough, as I slipped into the front door as someone else came out, and then picked the lock.
What I had not figured on was the fact she was a bit more organised
Writing Practice: Five Senses--Kenneth Young
What does Kenneth SOUND like?
Kenneth has a very down-to-Earth, informal way of speaking most of the time, even when he's trying to be serious, and has sort of a goofy, self-deprecating sense of humor. Though you would expect his voice to be deep and Schwarzenegger-like thanks to his huge musculature, he's actually more in the middle, though his voice gets a bit higher when he's over-excited or nervous. He also has an infectious and almost awkward-sounding laugh. It's actually been really difficult pinning down the perfect voice actor for Kenneth, though; I've junked at least 4 people who I've considered over the years. But I guess to give kind of an idea of his voice, I'd go with Chris Pratt for now, or Nathan Fillion as someone helpfully suggested.
What does Kenneth SMELL like?
Kenneth's smell is usually a combination of three things: Pert 2 in 1 Shampoo and Conditioner, Irish Spring bar soap, and either Right Guard
Family games timeYeah, Steve told me about what he did that afternoon, and it made me think about one of the visits I’d made before we headed over here. I’d picked up a few things about planning from him, and this particular home near me had caught my eye a few weeks ago, when I saw the mum bringing in some very expensive looking items from her car.
I found out she ran a fashion boutique in town, and she lived with her eleven and ten year old daughters – no man about the house, which was a help to someone like me. So I decided to pay them a visit on the Sunday before we flew out. I spent the time learning their names – the mum was Tammy, and her daughters Nikki and Anna.
So I drove round to their house on the Sunday, parking my car a few streets away and walking along the street. I had a black leather biker’s jacket over a roll neck sweater, tight leggings and knee length leather boots, with a small grey rucksack on my back, containing everything I
Midnight Cravings"I need to do my homework"
"I know but,"
"Oh come on, it's past midnight!"
More like past time to eat chocolate.
You should probably fix that...
"I have five sentences left."
Five sentences about chocolate?
Then they can be done after we get back from getting chocolate.
"I'd have to drive all the way to the gas station..."
"That's a ten minute drive."
"It's past midnight!"
"I need to finish this essay."
But! You also need chocolate!
More PleaseDesire (verb)
- to wish or long for; crave; want
What do I desire most?
What do I wish upon a star for?
What does my heart long for?
What is it that I crave more than pizza?
What is it that I am in want of?
For most people, this might be a difficult question. It may take some thought - a few hours, days, weeks, even. Go on, try it. Decide on the one thing that you yearn for more than anything else you could possibly ever want. What is it? Money? Love? Power?
I know my answer. I've known it since I was little.
I want fat. To be fat. To love fat. To have and to hold fat. To be thick and never thin. Big and only growing bigger. Since that first big belly I saw when I was four years old, I've been incredibly jealous, and wanted nothing else but my own. Now I have one, but it isn't big enough.
When I think of being fat, I don't think of a little extra pudginess here and there, like I have at this moment. Instead, I think of an elephantine frame that dominates a king-size bed, breaks the met
I Won't StopHis stomach is huge. I can't take my eyes off of it. He's so skinny - at least for now - and it pours out from him like a mountainous boulder. The skin glistens not only with sweat, but with how much it has stretched to accumulate the feast. While normally pale, it now glows pink with effort. Already there are thin stretchmarks forming.
Running my finger from chest to bellybutton, I feel how hard it is. Taut as a drum, refusing to give an inch when I poke it forcefully. This draws a moan from his lips; he's still mostly unconscious. Sleeping off the stuffing. He's so sweet - didn't even bother trying to remove the feeding tube. Finally learned his lesson.
Currently, the beautifully swollen young man lies in the centre of the bed. Stomach soaring upwards before crashing back down onto the mattress. As much as it has pushed forwards, it's distended outwards as well. Formed a huge, perfect dome the size of which a human stomach has never been before. Though still in slumber, it is clear e
.:Say The Name:.He just couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t like the nights before, it wasn’t the nightmares of the past anymore that were keeping him up. It was more just not being tired or not wanting to sleep that Alex used as a reason to stay awake on his own empty bedside and pace around the room every once in a while.
He felt more comfortable with himself while he was on the move for whatever reason. Maybe it kept his mind running so that he would be aware of his surroundings enough and not bump into things, so he didn’t have a chance to fall too deep into his thoughts and make such a mess around himself that Alex would wake up the whole house. He felt like he had bothered Jael about stuff already enough, the man had his own problems and his brother to deal with as well, he didn’t need Alex with all of his insomnia problems into his already messed up life to make things even more stressful and complicated.
Maybe he should get co