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RIDEnvelope within this thinning air;
Allow breathing in ease.
Dont keep the atmosphere heavy
They are heaving,
Tip toeing on the ground ridden with desease where footsteps are misplaced.
Transfuse with the surrounding light and mirror or even Take up Translucency.
Dont let being block anything beyond it.
They are squinting,
Many eyes burning.
Create illusions of the eye
Let voice ring within white noise
The static will cleanse all impurities
Their ears still bleeding
muscles fitfully twitching.
Morningslong and drawn out inhalations
Flustered cheaks and a sudden restlessness
Lungs burning, head spinning
Body shaking vision blurring
Rain against glass spells doom and gloom for most but being a day like today, bliss is all that dances benieth the foggy window pane. lying here for a few more hours wont prohibit the earths rotation, conversations will continue to spark and people will roam the land like ghostly figures weaving through time. May I distatch myself for a couple more minutes? The boiler still rumbles and charasmatic voices sing low benith the floor boards. May I just close my eyes for a few seconds? the sun wont stop setting regardless of my witnessing. For a moment longer, the world will not stop even deprived of my participation. It will learn to grow without another voice in its mists. I'll get up soon, but my dear earth, you must learn to hold your breath.
another cliche poem .-.Athough you give me shifty eyes
That sticks to your direction
I cant help notice your blissful sighs
And awe at your perfection
Although you keep me on the edge
Perched high on fluid ground
I cant help trod this brittle ledge
Just so you are sound
And although my heart knows not of love
From savage heartbreake afore
I cant help forge a rapid pulse
When you walk through the door
when hit which is felt first, pain or pressure?The brick wall slammed first against my defending hands, effortlessly shattering brittle bones. I had not yet registered the collision regardless the fact I had forseen this wall heading towards me many miles before. Immense pain, sharing the same path as lighting, diverged its way to my collarbone.
Anything left of my hands, once machines of creation, was a little less than a compact mass of flesh, bone and blood. My knees,oh my knees; I couldent bare to look down at what had come of my knees! I My skull, brain and mind once throbbing in groth, had been compressed. Was it pain or pressure I felt?
ProgrammedYou are programmed for self destruction
Diseased with leaching viruses
Destroying for a promised peace
Sabotaging rabid with delusion
But of course it will not come
Oh how this tricky has consumed you
You thought it had ended did you not?
Well I'm terribly sorry
I can’t let you win
Nothing is owed to you
You will be left with nil
Because it’s the least I can do
Say thank you
10110110And so they sing. Riddle upon riddle, word upon word. It seems all that radiates from their gaping mouths are deafening tones. Wave upon wave come the discorded banter. What am I to do with this senseless shit?
Somebody please transcribe this intrusive nonsense;
for I cannot listen, but only hear...
and Im one chord short of sane
Moment of death (part 1)
Fog seeped effortlessly into the cracks of the small, hollow window. Creeping solemnly, it surrounded the lone figure, daring not to disturb its restless sleep. It danced around the silver floor as if it owned the place and through the grey abyss sang a low slow; thump, thump, thump. White noise gradually filled the room as the thumping grew louder and faster, surely poisoning the ears of silent ghosts that roam the heavy air. However it was not nearly enough to awake the slumped, shadowed body. The thumps became booms.
“DON’T!” he screeched. His own heart beat awoke him from the twisted dreams of faces he use to know. He turned slightly to face the patch of light that lay across the cold metallic ground; the light rays were less comforting than he had hoped. He looked
wordwords, the bullets lined with silver.
they are sharpened but become blunt with time.
the difference it makes?none.
they penetrate their hearts desolating those poor wounded souls.
emptying every warmth left inside.
don't ever tell me words do not hurt, you sing lies.
for all of the offence intended and the people left unmended
you pull the trigger.
those who say words do not hurt are deluded.
Most contagious of them all
The light known to overflow our souls
In absence, numbness empties our minds
And our hearts forget to feel.
The pleasure of easing pain,
when hope is here and the horrors leave.
The Sudden lifting of fear
gives us permission to relax.
When there’s no more to expect
Finally become strong enough,
Consider an alternative.
You’re giving e choice
Hurt may visit buts there’s no escape
Face the truth, its over.
Deal with it.
desolates the heart,
Those who are hurting hurt
But when the loved cause pain
we are destroyed
You cannot hide pain.
(Req) Methods of Communication (Canada x Reader)
"Ahh! Oh no!"
Pausing mid-sip of your drink, you glanced up.
Matthew Williams, probably one of the most discussed guys in your year at college, was standing a ways across from where you swear, beneath a large oak tree that had likely been planted there when the college was first built. Its great height and width stood as a testament to just how much both it and the college itself had grown since their beginning. From the distance you stood, it looked like Matthew had dropped a folding, sending a wad of papers scattered about his sneakered feet like giant, grounded butterflies. He hastily crouched, grabbing at the papers haphazardly, in a desperate attempt to stop them from being swept away by the breeze snaking its way between the buildings, but taking care not to crumple or rip the pages.
One paper, however, missed his frantic fingers and zoomed off, carried away by the air current. You glanced down, jolting slightly in surprise at the paper slapped into the leg of your jeans. Bending
AlliesXDead!Reader: I didn't notice , I love you~At The Allies Meeting..........
Here we are at the Allies' Meeting well it wasn't much of a meeting all of them were just sulking. Why? Its because a girl named (y/n) had died they had accused her of killing Kyra Vaski the personification of Pangea .
Russia smelled like Vodka and the sunflowers he has have all wilted he had spent most of his days at a bar drinking until he passed out.
France had stopped flirting and smelled like vomit like Russia he drank much to his heart Content.
America had stopped calling himself a hero , he didn't even dare to eat a burger like the two he hasn't eaten anything except for beer.
England the man who claimed he was a gentleman and hated it when his brothers came home drunk but now he was drunk himself , he even burned all of his books.
And lastly China the most cheerful and self proclaimed big brother of the Asians was sad but at least he wasn't the worst the only thing he drank was water.......
The Allies were having a m
Reader x Trickster!Nepeta: Egg Coloring"EY YO BITCHIE-"
"Oh my god she's still alive are you kidding me?"
Your name is ___ ___ and your... matesprit, Nepeta Leijon, Tac as you call her, is frantically pounding on your door.
"BITCHIE LEMME IN I REALLY NEED TO MAKE PLANS WITH MEW AND YOUR CUTE BUTT."
"Do we have to?" you groaned. You were literally laying on the floor of your cute little one-story apartment. Your Siamese cat, Simi, licked your nose. Simi was fond of the troll and in return, the troll was fond of Simi.
"Uh. Well not really but I'd sure as hell purrefur mew did." you heard her make a face. "And befur mew ask, no I didn't kill anyone this time. Da po-po let me furreeeeee~" the Trickster chirped.
"Fine." you simply said, wiggling over to the door and sitting up, staring at the oversized wood plank. "What's the password?"
"THERE'S A PASSWORD?!"
You stifled a laugh, merely smirking and standing up, stepping back to dodge the olive blood's attempted tackle-pounce as you opened the door. "Hello t
A Southern Story: Chelsea at the supermarketHey! How you doing, I haven’t seen you since before the reception!
Aww, that’s good to hear, glad everything’s going okay for you! Me? Oh, I’m just bracing myself for this coming football season. I got stuck in charge of the cheerleaders again, and you know how that turned out LAST year. Put all that effort into getting skinny, ah, well, you know, not quite so hugely fat, and they all looked at me doing that and went back to stuffing their faces.
I’ve already made up my mind, I’m not even going to try this year to make these girls lose any weight. It's down to them, if they want to look good, they can stop stuffing their greedy little faces. If they want to make terrible messes out of themselves, then go ahead, have that fourth plate of nachos. I’m just gonna sit back and let them do it.
We had our first meeting last week and guess who just waltzed in ten minutes late, shoving a Hershey’s bar in her face? Kaitlyn O’Leary, reme
Easter Sexy - TGMy mother buttoned up my shirt, shaking her head because I kept pulling away. I hated having my shirt buttoned up, so I would always undo the buttons. Before I could undo them, my mother handed me a little green weaved basket with my name on the side. Immediately, I knew what time it was and I jumped in place. “Easter eggs, Easter eggs, Easter eggs!”
My mother laughed and my shirt into my jeans, kissing my forehead and standing up, taking my tiny hand. “Yes, it’s time for the Easter egg hunt, and this year we hid more eggs than we have ever done before. So hopefully you get lots and lots of candy.” Her comment just made me pull on her arm harder, wanting her to start moving. “Alright, calm down Jacob.”
Finally, my mother started moving out of the room and where all of my cousins were waiting. I broke away from my mom and ran to my favorite cousin, Elise. We hugged each other and started telling stories while we waited for our aunts and uncles t
Levi x Reader: After All This Time? (10) It was an early morning. A girl no less than 10 woke up. She yawned in her bed, the early morning rays breaching her small window. She was very beautiful and mature for the early age of 10. But she was sick. Not the sickness which attaches itself to the body though. It was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow (A/N: Any fans of 'The Hobbit' reading this?'). Under that sweet, adorable exterior; was a dangerous creature.
She went down her bed, quietly as to not wake up her sleeping brother in the other room. She was going to check if her mother was home. Due to her job at the local hospital, she would come home late at times. She approached her parents' room when she heard noises. They were quite familiar to her ears by the time, but she wanted to see if the story was any different. She opened the door slightly, allowing her eyes to take in the scene before her. It was her father, Lewis in bed w
A Southern Story: Tori's RealizationOh, hey.
Ah, nothing much, I just figured, you know. It's a nice day to do some sunbathing, better not waste it. What's up with you? How you been?
Ah, good for you, glad to see SOMEBODY'S been having a good time recently. . .
Ah, no, no, it's nothing big, I've just been having a rough time the past few months.
You probably heard by now, right? Well. . . It's true, I broke 200 pounds. That's old news, though.
You want to know about the most RECENT kick in my super-sized ass? Well. . . Eh, screw it, it's not like you won't hear it from someone else anyway.
I went to the doctor the other day, already knowing I was over 200, I'd weighed myself a few weeks before, and I was something like 202. That was bad, you know, I had a whole “OH MY GOD I BROKE 200!' thing. Elizabeth being Elizabeth, she had to mess with me, throw me a party to celebrate my being fat, but honestly, I kind of chalked it up to, I dunno, natural weight fluctuations or something, but what that doctor was tellin
The Shrine Maiden
It was a cold December night. At an old shrine by a river, drummers beat an ancient rhythm. Lanterns burned brightly, illuminating the paths between the many stalls hastily assembled around it. Children flocked from game to game, an old priest sold protective amulets, and local artists displayed their work. Schoolgirls trilled like songbirds. A young couple shared an order of takoyaki. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten that day.
At the time, I was a young freeter, drifting from job to job with the seasons. My previous employer had let me go two weeks before the festival, and my savings were running low. Even the internet cafe where I usually slept would become too expensive before long. Needless to say, I hadn't stopped by the festival to sample its overpriced food and souvenirs. I had a different objective in mind.
On most nights, the shrine grounds had no cover to hide a 174-cm man with a backpack. On mos
Mother and Daughter Moment: The Escape ArtistYeah, I know I broke my own rule with that last story – let’s just say it was a rare aberration. They do happen from time to time, you know – in the same way that, just occasionally, I find myself challenged in other ways.
A few years back, I was in Kensington High Street, doing a little window shopping when I saw this mother walking past, carrying some designer bags. She was about five eleven in height, with blonde hair that fell down her back, and wore a black sweater, blue jeans and knee length black leather boots with the cuffs turned down.
Her daughter was about fifteen years old, and also had long blonde hair. She was wearing a black short sleeved top over a long sleeved green one, blue denim shorts over black leggings, and black Ugg boots. She was talking to her mum as she passed me, about the nice new earrings that she had bought for her.
They seemed to me a typical Kensington mum and daughter, and the bags they were carrying suggested
Spot the liarthis little story is based on my own quote: "How can a person think if so many voices are screaming at them?"
what? Did you just smile? .Cover your face and feel the cold, red-rich blood stick to your skin.It still smells of him.That guy that use to be happy for the both of you.What did you do? Numb your mind of what you've done and get the hell out of there. No don't you cant look back. Its too late.Run as fast as humanly possible you selfish idiot, do you want to surrender to guilt?Let yourself tremor with rage...THIS IS FOR YOURSELF YOU BASTARD... FEEL GRATEFUL".No mercy
He Stabs Furiously at the fleshy mess.Each time the blade meets his bare arm they wince and smile, hiding the agonising reality that they cannot stop them himself he continues to strike, each one more painful than the last. It's if the pain is trying to escape in form of a smile. He stop. satisfied that its over. Slowly he bring the b
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