Silver TidesWhen I reached that silver shore, I was broken.
My skin, burnt by the sun and bruised.
My hair, tangled with salt and drenched.
My body was tired, and when I reached the shore—
It was my enemy, the sea that brought me there.
Sand hugged my body, attacking all my salt stung wounds.
As I stood up, the sun sent rays of hope instead of fire.
And the waves retreated, only to crash onto me once again.
Homestuck Version of the Ultimate ShowdownOld Jack Noir was hopping around
Prospit and Derse like a big playground
When suddenly Bro burst from the shade
and hit Jack Noir with the Lil Cal brigade.
Then Jack got pissed and began to attack
but didn't expect Davesprite to stab him in the back
who proceeded to open up a can of rap stew
When Terezi Pyrope came out of the blue
And she started beating up the feathered foe
Then they both got flattened by the skateboard of Bro
but before he could make it back to his real bro Dave
Grandpa Harley popped out of his grave
and took a hunting rifle out from under his hat
and blew Bro away with a rat-a-tat-tat
but he ran out of bullets and he ran away
because Aimless Renegade came to save the day
this is the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny
good guys, bad guys, and explosions as far as the eye can see
and only one will survive, I wonder who it will be
this is the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny
Jack Noir took a slice of Aimless Renegade
like Aradia Megido made Vriska Se
1000 paper cranesAkari made 999 paper cranes, but forgot to make the 1000th. Instead, she would pick each one up by their flat symmetrical wings and hold them with them cuffed in her stubby hands. She once told me they felt better when she held each one to show that she hadn't forgotten them. She was one strange duck. It's not like those cranes actually had feelings or nothin'.
None-the-less, I made time to see her. Every day, actually. You know that person that's always in your bubble, and you want her to just go away, but at the same time, you don't? She was kinda like that, 'cept a little different. It's hard to explain, really.
Before she got ill, she would follow me around, sneaking around the shadows of trees and buildings. I pretended not to notice. She also would wrap her arms around my bony shoulders every now and then, telling me something around how she was so lucky to have me as her friend. We were only neighbors, I swear. The only class we shared together in middle school is Gym, and even
filename: humanity.exeif you:
1. have cared about something that someone told you wasn't important
go to 2;
go to 3;
2. believe in love
go to 4;
go to 5;
3. have wanted to make your life mean something
go to 6;
go to 7;
4. believe in something that should be impossible
go to 8;
go to 9;
5. believe in art
go to 9;
go to 10;
6. believe you are the only one like yourself
go to 11;
go to 14;
7. have been hurt or disappointed
go to 20;
go to 21;
8. are a dreamer
here lie the hopes and dreams of an idiot like me"i've taken up smoking."
after all, i needed something to fulfill my oral fixation, just like you did, but i guess you found a man for that, didn't you?
no, i've never been one to like the taste of alcohol. i'm the fat girl chaser. and you'd be the one to tell me i can't do that now with my burnt out lungs. i just kneel and pray to the god who created condoms and cotton sheets, thankful that my other body parts work.
"that also happens to be the god that created lies, lung cancer, and monogamy," you would say. it's too hot for arguments like this. i light up another and you sneer. god, how i missed that.
you'd think we were an old married couple, but alas we were just a couple, and you were the married one. and i was the one who told you i didn't need you, which in retrospect is funny because i ended up not needing you and needing cigarettes. i had to add this to my list of things to pray for.
the one thing i never prayed for was the future, and this was because the truth belonged with
Just Don'tDon't tell the people that they are close to God.
Don't tell them that he hears
the half-broken whimper from their strangled voice box
that is wrapped tightly shut
( so the demons don't hear and intercept our hopes )
with the fraying cord of our dreams. Don't.
Don't tell the people that they can be heard.
Don't tell the ants
that the watchful eyes that hover above them know nothing
of their struggle
and do nothing to assist them.
Do not break their dorsal aortas with your clumsy
malnourished ideas about eternal love. Don't.
Don't tell the people that they can be heard.
Don't hope to cure meningitis
and malaria with a well-placed verb
or a splinter of metal into vertebrae.
Some people are not to be saved that way.
Don't tell the people that are close to the
You'll Never DieHear me read it!
They say that if a writer falls in love with you then you never really die.
Instead your body is laid out in its funerial shrouds and moulds are made. Soft impressions of you to be pressed onto the blank faces of future loves.
Every time I write of taking comfort in a safe place in a storm, it will be your forearm. Every half-made smile will be on your lips, and every touch will be constructed from the residue beneath your fingernails.
When I metaphise of trees' blood, the leaves that give the energy so that a willow can provide shade for those in need, it will be your blood, it will be your light drenched kisses.
Every tear on every face will taste of the sweat that you put into keeping me happy. Every soaring song of love will be played through your windpipe, your trachea my instrument of choice.
For every time that a hero has the strength to walk on, I will use your feet. I will weld them to my own and walk a mile. Wal
The Problem With Elia.she could have been a violin;
born a week too late, she had
melancholy in her bones: doctor lizbet
took time out of her schedule to pluck her
newborn strings - calloused sanitation against
mottled pink-and-yellow flesh & thrashing limbs.
in three more years, she will have
nothing in her bones at all: doctor estair
diagnosed her with iatrophobia to fuel her
instinctive chords - ripple-free shells of liquid
lobotomy & a capsule to callous her pink-and-yellow
flesh against the thought of just getting over it all.
ten years after that, her mother will
find her face down and thrashing: her dust
bunny bones will flex as she retches up her memories
for display - lawyers will spend the next few years pawing
through them with clawed hands and heaving breathing until
one day, they find lizbet and estair huddled amid the rubble of her bones.
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Expensive LiesI sit and stare at the toilet bowl.
A guy I know is bulimic.
When we compliment him
I see the twist of agony in his eyes
as his brain reprograms it
to sound like an expensive lie
that costs him another tear
in his tattered dignity.
Friends hurry to him,
to reassure him, to love him.
They tell him how beautiful he is.
We didn't know him before,
but he's definitely not fat now.
We whisper things in concern like;
body dysmorphic disorder.
'I know you'll never believe me
but you are so gorgeous -
not just on the inside.' Not just.
And they're right, I join in,
because they are right to say it
because it happens to be true -
he is stunning. Not just on the outside.
And we want him to see himself
the way we see him, beautiful.
And I join in because
I've felt that strangle of pain
in my stomach, bowels and belly,
when someone used to tell me lies.
So I know how he feels.
Only, he is beautiful on the outside
and I'm not.
He's not seeing reality in the mirror
and I am.
And people rush to correc
Mid-month momentsthings i have done today:
crawled out of bed, hands
& knees scuffing carpet, collecting
dust encrusted memories in
lost myself in the
shower, soul wandered off
up the exhaust chute
& left me staring at
broke my dam over lamb
& chips, salt on salt until my lips
puckered under the assault and
your name came tumbling
*Ideas we set in ink
Do not mirror reality.
No matter how hard we think,
Our words are not actuality.
In writing, all that one can do
Is wish upon an asterisk
And hope that wish comes true.
Nothing LeftIs this the end of me?
Is this my destiny?
All that I am worth or worthy of?
Please, if there is someone above,
there must be something more than this..
Someone's taking the piss,
And it’s not funny anymore,
But you see,
The joke is on me
So I give up
I'm just not
Able to go on.
Somebody show me how
Tell me what to do,
Is it really true
That I have to go with the flow?
Then, I give up
This is not living, anyway
I need a break
From all the stress I can’t take,
I’ll be let down,
And it will be soon,
But the world keeps spinning around,
And I fall deeper in love with you.
This is my living hell
Don’t forget this days
You may as well,
For I have nothing left to give you
But this weary heart.
Sexual TensionI see the lust in his eyes,
a whirlwind of locked desire,
looking for a way to be unleashed
There's hidden intentions in all he does
He's always finding an opportunity
for our skins to touch
I want him to cross the line
I want to feel what he feels
I don't want to be forbidden anymore
I want to be his sweet meal
To feel different hands on my body
would awaken what I've been trying to hide
The fact that I want him to take me
I can no longer deny
I wish I could touch his body,
feel him up with my hands;
rub myself against him,
do his every command
burning clouds for the sake of silver liningscontrary to popular belief,
i would've been fucking
amazing for you -
licked the cold out
of your tired
ears, caressed your weight-ridden
shoulders and knees,
been the perfect answer to
your illiterate idea of
but you cowered behind a
reflection, a "too" instead of
trust me, baby, i've heard
too many lies
to know for quite sure, how
guilty you felt
when the fire in your heart
you're trying all the
wrong ways; keeping me
the way you shouldn't,
and it might just make me
better at filtering.
the only silverwhitelilac
making me wiser.
On Platonic LoveThat love is beautiful,
The apple on the tree,
Which endures every famine,
Yet lets the apple be.
That love is plentiful,
The sea that hugs the shore,
Which meets solely at the brink,
Yet returns ever more.
That love is contentful,
The twine of You and Me,
Which clasp our eternal strings,
Yet ne'er to become We.
NaPoWriMo: Day 7Watch out.
She’s a devil,
Glad for her spine,
& her teeth,
even God hands fear her.
For she has arched her back
for a flower-woman
with sin dripping
from her fingers
-who taught her
how to laugh
like the stars.
Letters Unsent, Words Untold.I've kept the words,
inside my soul and,
the letters from you,
in my mind for so long,
where it said you loved me,
and how you missed me.
Long days with sunshine,
on our faces,
our hearts heated,
as we wildly dance.
I've kept the words,
inside my heart,
those I wanted to say,
the letters that I wrote,
but didn't send away,
where I said I loved you too,
and how I missed you since,
the unfortunate day,
where you died and,
the world around me fell away.
Gray days with gloomy skies,
tears hidden in the rain,
cold grief is not enough to,
cool this terrible pain.
I've kept the words,
inside far too long,
and they're coming out,
like a tremendous flood,
in such a sorrowful song of,
I'll remember the words of your letters,
I'll keep them close to my heart,
and I'll remember the sunshine on,
those long days of happiness.
Ever"You deserve the best," you said,
And I could tell you were trying not to say "But not the best of me,"
Even though you meant it that way.
It's funny, in the cynical way, and not the you in the passenger seat
making fun of the way I add "m" to my words when I try to say open
and me making fun of the way you try to be so deep sometimes
Kind of funny.
You told me that you hoped everything worked out for me,
unlike everything for us, and I'm reminded of saying I love you
on black sheets that didn't belong to us and the incriminating stain that did.
I thought everything would work out then, like an algebra equation,
And in a way I guess it did, because sometimes equations have more than one answer
and any of the answers could be correct, you just have to plug them in and check.
I'd like to think we picked the wrong answer, the one with the negative sign
that doesn't belong, the one that will turn out to be the reason for our failing grade
and we'll have to study together and study each oth