PoetWe're often overlooked
We're called the outcasts,
The strange & lame
We're given titles that we can't stand;
Others think of us as losers who'll never get laid
As the ones who can't build our way to the top.
Well you know what?
We're the ones who can morph the world with words
We can shatter & mend hearts with simple keystrokes
We're goddamn artists, for fuck's sake.
We know how to entwine emotion into the text that we bleed for
We carry the knowledge necessary to either destroy or fix our society
We can manipulate your way of thinking forever.
We're the ones who die for someone we love
We're the ones who are treated like ragdolls by people we thought we could trust
We're the ones who have our state of mind fractured for all eternity.
We scream our lungs out,
Bellowing words nobody wants to hear
But they all know that it's true.
So tell us,
What do we poets mean to the rest of you lot again?
Broken PeopleIf the kindest people are damaged people
And the most beautiful people are dark people
And the people with the prettiest smiles are the ones who lie through their teeth so no one will worry about them,
Why is it that I am not kind, beautiful, nor a pretty sight when I flash a grin?
GhostsI guess it turns out that I'm not the only one who's died by love
And you're not the only one either.
I know people who claim to be ghosts
Who dress up & look their best to impress
Who take a number of drugs just for someone to notice them.
I fucking hate love;
The way it stabs me in the back like that-
Just waiting for me to bleed out & go pale
For my eyes to have little cracks & scars throughout them
My hair frail & my lips black.
You've got a sexbomb of a bitch
While I sit here & think about how come the person I pictured as your temporary replacement looks exactly like my new friend.
11:38 pmI sit here
Contemplating on whether or not I should run back down the stairs for the fifth time
Just to retrieve the phone
While my mother watches television by the ashes of the fire that never burned.
Netflix & Twitter
Seem to be the only thing that keep me awake at this point
So that I can wait for all the lights to go down
And I can spread my wings of the shinigami
Awakened inside my realm
Where I can fall into your arms
Not having to worry about anyone judging me.
And I guess you crave for that 'angel' buried deep inside of me
'Cause you don't want me to dive into other men's hearts;
At least, as far as I know.
And you're acting kind of crazy,
All sympathetic & shit-
So I don't know whether it's just you or me.
So whilst I waste my energy away
Cries for freedom linger in my fingers & throat
Letting the rhymes & stanzas entangle into a piece of 'art' for you
And I still can't understand why I yearn for you
Everything about you
Even though I've admitted it all
I don't feel com
Guardianhe'd do anything to be by my side
he'd burn with a thousand suns
or perish with the might of a hundred seas.
he said he'd protect me
from anyone who'd do me harm
even if blood would be spilled.
so it's not just me who keeps on giving
it's him too.
and so i asked him
and he replied,
'because i care.'
sometimes he jokes around carelessly
sometimes he stands with the might of a guardian
but to me, he's still an angel
but at last,
he can love.
InfinityI walk in the dark alone
A loaded bow by my side
The rustling of leaves the hymn that I can't escape
Though the thing is
I'm not terrified
I don't feel as though I'll die tonight.
I wonder if
I were with others
I'd go insane
My adrenaline would burst through the roof
Because they'd be the first to hit the pavement.
He taught me how to live
He taught me how to survive
He taught me how to go on without him.
How he knows it,
The way there's no end to saving me.
The memories say we're still young
That we should die while we're happy
And I can't help but agree
Though while Death is staring straight at me
Asking me if this is what I want,
In The DarkI'm not afraid of the dark
I'm only afraid of what it contains.
In the dark
I remember all the times my heart broke
And my body can't stand the pain
To the point where I'm out of tears.
I thought that night was my best friend
A companion that would stop me from falling any further down
But I guess the shadows are manipulating me,
Turning me into its own personal marionette.
Something's always stalking me through the window
An unfriendly face peering over my shoulder;
Breathing down my neck
Though I can't do anything to stop the insanity.
Can cause my imagination to mistake it for the eye of a shinigami.
And I feel like screaming,
Having my cries heard throughout the night,
But no one here will understand
The reason why
Everything's breaking down..
It's because I haven't heard from him
And I'm insecure whenever I don't hear his voice
And I can't-
I can't. . .
I can't function
i've got your back. | nishinoya yuu
"Where else does it hurt?"
Nishinoya proceeded to point at the area where he had gotten a bruise. You clicked your tongue, but you didn't say anything. Instead, you took out the ointment and carefully applied it gently, your fingers delicately moving across his bruise. It hurt. It hurt a little bit, and Nishinoya had to bite his lip so he wouldn't make any noise. But at the same time, it was comforting. Your touch—you were so cautious not to hurt him, treating him like a delicate glass that could break any moment. After you had finished applying the ointment, you then took an elastic bandage and wrapped it around the bruised area to reduce the pain.
It was still painful, but he decided not to mention it. You did so much for him already.
"That all?" You said, raising a brow at him. Something about Nishinoya was odd today. He was quiet. He was usually loud and filled with life, and as much as you hated the obnoxious out-bursts, you weren't going to deny the fact that
Memory Remember that day we sat in the open field? No? Well I must have been alone, thinking of you. I remember your presence there. The field went on for miles and miles, becoming a blur of brown, sienna, yellow ochre. When I stared at it for too long, I lost my balance in the waving grasses. I had to find the tree to right myself again. One lone stubby tree in a million miles of dreaming field.
I remember the light coming from the left somewhere, because it struck the tree in a most magnificent manner. Its shadow stretched long and thin, finally fading into blurry little fingers. I don’t know the brand of tree it was, it was unfamiliar to me. Short, stubby, gnarly trunked, with large bushy leaves over little pods. Well actually, the pods and everything else must have been bigger than I remember. I was a very long way from the tree.
The sky was malevolent blue that day, with long rust-and- grey clouds sweeping sideways across it. A thin strip of pink on the horizon ga
Always the Haunted House On Halloween, young people seem to flock to the dark, in search of either candy or a house to 'trick.' Matt and Sally were no different, except they were a bit older, nearly in their teens. Matt talked Sally into going to the house widely known as haunted.
Sally said, "Are you sure we want to go there? It must be called haunted for a good reason."
Matt laughed. "Sure. Things go bump in the night there. It's just an old house."
"Then they won't have any candy."
"We got enough off Mr. Sterling to rot our teeth already. This'll prove we've got guts too. Wait 'til we get to school and tell everyone where we went! They'll envy us and know how brave we are. C'mon, Sally!"
Sally sighed. "I don't know how you always talk me into these dumb ideas."
"I'm smart. And I know you like to hang out with me anyway."
"You're not as smart as me, and this may be the last straw as far as h
Belly RubSeated on the couch, you tilt your head back and groan, brows furrowed in a less-than-pleased fashion. Your thick thighs spread apart, feet stretching under the table. With puffy hands, you grip the belly that sinks slightly forward over your jeans, soft flesh squeezing through your fingers.
Each breath is laborious as you heave that weighty ball up, and you can't help but wince as it flops down with every exhale. You try to massage it, but the pressure only makes it that much more painful. Instead, you simply lay back against the couch, eyes closed, trying to block out the harshness of reality.
In the kitchen, he readies your dessert. You told him earlier that there's no room left, but as usual he didn't listen. You can smell the freshly baked cupcakes that he ices, and hope there's only a couple to get through. Past experience, however, lets you know that it will be a feast in its own right.
Struggling, you reach a hand around the swollen rock attached to your middle. Sausage-like fi
Faulty Feeding TubeWith the tube stuffed far down your throat, you take a deep, awkward breath and wait for the sound. The faint, clicking sound of the switch hitting "on". When you hear it, the whirring of the feeding device echoes around the room, and in seconds you feel the sweet liquid travelling down your throat.
It takes a few moments before you start to feel full. Your stomach, at this point, would consider itself at capacity. You know better. The liquid continues to pulse down your throat, forcing itself into your belly. The feeling of fullness grows, and you eye your middle, waiting for it to start showing.
Finally. After a full minute, you notice your previously flat stomach beginning to push outward. It strains against your buttoned shirt. Fills up the extra space in your jeans. The feeling of tightening clothes digging into flesh feels good, but not good enough. Not yet.
More liquid travels down your throat. Your stomach stretches to contain it all. Deep inside, a faint sensation of painful t
In the Snow"No, you do not want to go outside right now," Mathias stated firmly, trying to ignore the look of intensity in those golden eyes that looked into his own. He couldn't even begin to fathom at all why Chevalier had suddenly decided that he needed to go out of the comforts of the house and into the outside. It was snowing and windy to boot, the temperature dropping even before the sun had vanished on the horizon. It wasn't a storm, but that didn't mean it was comfortable to be out in. Mathias reckoned even something that was made to be out in that cold would much rather be inside on a night like this. Apparently he had reckoned wrong before there was a small noise, a mix between an irritated huff and a growl, that came forth from the tokota's muzzle when he didn't immediately move to give Chevalier what he wanted. Mathias just quirked an eyebrow at the noise. A faint worry that perhaps Chevalier might not be feeling well tugged at him, but he tried to dismiss it. Other than this sudden d