'I would promise you until always ends, but I want to live forever.'
cyanide poems
dripped off his thin lips.
wreathing water-ink.
something like saliva
and coughed-up calligraphy.
up-turned cheekbones:
a smile
dancing to the surface:
a parody of laughter--
pallid and festering.
'you're a stranger, so why should i care.'
albatross hands.
dragged out;
crashing again.
'you'll vanish today,'
fingers chilled
to sticks of flesh and bone.
'not for the first time, i hear--or the last.'
face floating:
a harsh white sky.
spume and spray
spread out
like a too-taunt sheet.
surrender reaching:
frozen
and
languid.
longing
i am running
with kites on runways;
slipping smiles into the breeze.
throwing paper airplanes
down terminals;
fluttering dreams in turbines.
i could've called anyone
there a liar--
but i only found me
inside my head.
and if i learned
that feathers
leave papercuts,
i might not
be here:
afraid of flying
with the feeling of
melting wax
between my fingers
'what are you scared of?'
she was too pale to be held against the sun: so she leans against it until you can't see her face.
her eyes were chalk-smudges on blackboards, blurred against a backdrop of white-washed walls. her outline was all fade-out and lace, as white as winter could be.
her words were quiet like stains are, clinging to a curtain in the window. just trying to blend into the pattern, or at least not become part of it.
and when she breathes her chest swells with see-through lungs--hoping that if you focus, you'll see right through her glass skin. after all, she's just a smudge of the wrong varnish in your eyes.
she shudders
god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember.
"ask anything."
static skies;
grizzled blue
sketching down
to sewer lines:
like a wish
on a dead star.
the feeling of gritted teeth
and fingers crossed
until they break.
shame tasted
like a scalpel
and a brick wall
against my throat.
and i was
chewing concrete
when i said,
"it's okay."
swallowing cinder blocks;
stuffing steel under skin.
sugar-sweet
on my cheek,
like book pages:
"where have you been?"
life slouches against the door
[i think i can hear it crying]
sickly grins lick my lips;
rub the undersides
of scream-sore throats
stained with the sweetest sort of bruise
every nerve--
a soft
atrium flow;
cutting
capillaries
screams all my own
swallowed in cotton lungs
pressure in my skull
fire in my veins
holding the skin i had
clinging tighter to fragility
and i just can't find
the strength to cry
anymore
the night stretches on for months
red.
red.
black.
i shake like a leaf
'I would promise you until always ends, but I want to live forever.'
cyanide poems
dripped off his thin lips.
wreathing water-ink.
something like saliva
and coughed-up calligraphy.
up-turned cheekbones:
a smile
dancing to the surface:
a parody of laughter--
pallid and festering.
'you're a stranger, so why should i care.'
albatross hands.
dragged out;
crashing again.
'you'll vanish today,'
fingers chilled
to sticks of flesh and bone.
'not for the first time, i hear--or the last.'
face floating:
a harsh white sky.
spume and spray
spread out
like a too-taunt sheet.
surrender reaching:
frozen
and
languid.
longing
i am running
with kites on runways;
slipping smiles into the breeze.
throwing paper airplanes
down terminals;
fluttering dreams in turbines.
i could've called anyone
there a liar--
but i only found me
inside my head.
and if i learned
that feathers
leave papercuts,
i might not
be here:
afraid of flying
with the feeling of
melting wax
between my fingers
'what are you scared of?'
she was too pale to be held against the sun: so she leans against it until you can't see her face.
her eyes were chalk-smudges on blackboards, blurred against a backdrop of white-washed walls. her outline was all fade-out and lace, as white as winter could be.
her words were quiet like stains are, clinging to a curtain in the window. just trying to blend into the pattern, or at least not become part of it.
and when she breathes her chest swells with see-through lungs--hoping that if you focus, you'll see right through her glass skin. after all, she's just a smudge of the wrong varnish in your eyes.
she shudders
god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember.
"ask anything."
static skies;
grizzled blue
sketching down
to sewer lines:
like a wish
on a dead star.
the feeling of gritted teeth
and fingers crossed
until they break.
shame tasted
like a scalpel
and a brick wall
against my throat.
and i was
chewing concrete
when i said,
"it's okay."
swallowing cinder blocks;
stuffing steel under skin.
sugar-sweet
on my cheek,
like book pages:
"where have you been?"
The voices echo, crying
repeating themselves... over and over again
to no one, nowhere
They leave the sharp cliffs - the blades of doom
diving into the wild... the wild wind
the daring birds of prey
Tails and wings hail the air, sliding the shoreline of golden
where sands are eternally kissed by the sea foam
they shine - stars waiting until dark
Multicolour beads fly for the evening to decorate heaven
as they did during the day the harsh and hard land
the birds of prey, echo still, returning to the sharp cliffs
They perch the branches of old pine trees
crusted by the salty breeze and a perpetual haze
they swing and sing too, a melancholi
Crash Cola was slumped in the back of the trans am, sleeping. It had
been a long watch, and she'd fallen into a doze on the shoulder of her boyfriend,
Fun Ghoul. Ghoul, while he nestled her close, was relaxing in the back
seats of the car, while Poison and Kobra were up front on duty.
Suddenly though, he wasn't smiling, because Crashy wasn't just napping
anymore, she was wriggling around desperately in his arms, trying to get free,
and shouting "No, Cuddles, no, you mustn't. Stop it." Ghoul, both concerned,
and confused over who Cuddles was, tried to wake her up
Guys, don't expect too much from me for the time being. I'm trying to gather my thoughts for NaNoWriMo (which, by the way, I'm competely blank on. ;-; Novel suggestions or advice, anyone?) as well as crunch my life into the tiny box of time that I'm not sleeping.
One of the main questions I came to propose was, as I mentioned prior, does anyone have suggestions and/or advice for novels? I'm at a standstill and it's driving me crazy as the clock ticks down.
Also, who else is doing it? :D
--
So yes...I really don't have any time for anything else save what already occupies my schedule.
Which brings me to an important question--is there any
For GOD'S SAKE you people like my writing too much. -stares at "Cutter"-
.
.
.
I've joined NaNoWriMo! :D Unfortunately, I have no...ideas...at all...for a novel. Meh. I may just wing it unless something hits me or someone gives me an idea. I love my author description though:
"Who am I? Who am I?
I am the morbid mistress of macabre, the writer of curious tales with even more curious endings.
I am the puppet-master of the lines recited in the auditorium of my skull, as frustrated as an actor, or maybe even an author.
I am...just another teenager, trying to tie sentences to the ground and beat confessions out of poetry. A crazed girl
Can anyone recommend any good murder stories on dA? I don't really have time to read anything horribly long, so just anything that could be read in less than an hour, please. ^^'
Why should I want a story of such, you may ask? Well, I'm devising my own tale of murder for Halloween. It will be a short story, but I do nit-pick over those things, so I really want some brainfood. XD
Also, I need an avatar...
Okay...Hey guys. This is Poetic-Headache...I haven't been able to access my acount for the last couple months (due to the fact I forgot my password and the email I had for this.) If any of you are interested in my poetry, please check out this account. ^-^