Cycle of LifeTake me out of this dark trailer park
Out of this nightmare that we all dwell in..
But now I remember that you're gone
And I have to take care of myself once more
Without dying & withering away because of this pool of sorrow I bask in
So how will a weakling like I survive?
(You've done it enough already, stop complaining.)
It Can't Be UndoneI need to stop immersing myself within fantasy
But it's the only way to escape reality
Especially when everything is crumbling around me as I'm searching for answers to the question
'Why this is happening to me?'
How The Cycle TurnsWe're not all fit to be kings
And we're not all fit to be peasants scraping their loved one's off of the pavement.
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
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.
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
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
Perfect PearAt long last I found them. The one set of clothes I'd been dreaming of. Since coming to terms with my...sexuality, and discovering the existence of such a wardrobe, I've wanted them. After saving up for years and searching through every online enchanted clothing store, I was at long last able to buy my own. After two weeks, they arrived at my front door.
Tearing off the packaging, I laid out the fitted white long-sleeve t-shirt and snug black leggings on the bed. Eager to get started, I read over the instructions:
"Slip on the clothing, making sure everything is adjusted correctly. The clothes will shape themselves to your frame and grow as you do. As with all weight gain, you must eat for it to occur. Even small snacks will cause growth, but for best results consume large amounts. The more you wear the clothes, the more you will grow. Any and all weight gain achieved with these enchanted garments cannot be reversed by any means (including magic), so be sure this is the right path for
14. and 15.I.
There was a woman, the Last Woman. She and her companion, a man, were the final representatives of humankind. Like all things, humankind must end—and end it would, soon, when the two succumbed to the ravages of the sickness their species, in their desire to destroy, had unleashed upon itself. She thought of her death, and she wept. The man asked why, and the woman answered: For this! This legacy of death! This fate which our ancestors wrought upon themselves and upon us! The man sat beside her, held her, and began to weep too. And weeping, they died.
There was a woman, the First Woman. She and her companion, a man, had been created as perfect examples of their kind. And perfect examples they were—in their imperfection. Cursed with death for their sins, they now approached their end. But humankind had spread and would continue, spreading also violence, jealousy, hatred, death. The woman considered this and wept. The man asked why, and she answered: For this! This lega
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
Little John I walked in the door and immediately was tackled by my nieces and nephew. “Uncle Johnny, Uncle Johnny!” they were all shouting. I picked up the little girls and marched into the house, plopping down on the couch as they proceeded to show me their hair, dollies, and the kitchen play set they had in the corner.
“Johnny?” My nephew Stanley asked, “can we play with your doggy again? You promised!”
My sister Christine walked into the room. “John, you’d better not!”
“Mommy, please?” Stanley asked. “I wanna see the doggy!”
“Yeah,” Alissa, the older niece, said, “We could take care of a doggy for a little bit.”
“Yeah, Mommy please?” Stanley asked. “Can we have a doggy play with us tonight? Please!”
Autumn DayShe lounged fireside beneath her favorite throw, basking in the birth of autumn. Raising a glass of warm cider to her lips, she sighed and lazily reached to scratch her tabby cat beneath the chin. “It’s a good day to read, isn’t it?” she said. He blinked slowly and purred back at her. “I thought so.” She took another sip of cider and opened her book to the familiar scent of crisp paper and the anticipation of another page.