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MorticianCarefully, he peels back age-stiffened skin
the last skirt a lady has to be lifted
and knows her little grievances, the aches,
the smoker's lungs, the ribs broken years ago,
the little scratches on the leg where she picked
and picked, when nervous.
He takes the too-large heart in his hands
her heart in his hands!
He knows her, although never acquainted formally,
her calling-card affixed to bluish toes
still coated with clear polish.
Amidst smells of formaldehyde, stiffness in the air,
he adds color to worry-bleached cheeks
and tells her not to fret, reassuring
that she'll look lovely, regardless of tobacco teeth.
Outside"[Poetry is] honest, raw, unapologetic."
Unapologetic? My every word
is apology, in some context; an apology to myself
or to the reader, to everything else, to the mewling thing in my guts
that cries and cries and
Stop. Is this free verse? Is this blank verse?
Does my psychodynamic stanza have a rhyme
that can be identified not once, but all the time?
If this is my honesty, my rawness, why
does it have order at all? If I am honest
I am a scrabbling thing in the dirt and my thoughts
my thoughts are like moles in the sunlight
squealing and blind, flailing for cover.
But that's not the case; my thoughts are clean
and cold, produced by the mechanical pulsing
of the light in the bones in my head, collected,
and for that I must apologize. I don't have
the rawness, the honesty
to pry bittersweet beauty
from seventeen years of crusty cloth
without a pattern, without a pattern.
exists as trap-lines in sand
I lay mine carefully
never to be broken
pulled, they break
back, contingency cracks in veneer
in bulletproof glass
in my parlor
in my Oval Office
in my back-alleys
in my boardrooms
And You Will Lead Me ToIt has been one thousand eight hundred forty-nine days since the beginning of my sentence began. This is the one hundred eighty-fifth time that I have been placed into extended segregation for the good of the general population following dangerous and uncooperative behavior.
I have been in here for two days four hours, excepting thirty minutes for a shower and sweep of the solitary confinement cell. Three thousand ninety minutes. The room is dark. One hundred eighty-five thousand four hundred seconds, three seconds ago. Time progresses, as it always does; I have been placed here following a confrontation with the prison psychiatrist. They are calling it a confrontation. I am calling it survival.
Square peg, nonexistent hole. They ask me why I chose to do this. Why I chose to do that. Why I chose to be the "villain" in all of this, as if the world is a shape with definite sides. They continue to demand an explanation for my crimes. For my justices.
Animals, filthy animals, all of them.
Advanced Science ResearchAdvanced Science Research
I have a problem.
I have surveys to solve the problem.
The problem, though, is that I have surveys
to solve the problem.
One hundred twenty-two surveys
and, so far, none of them have any solutions.
To get my solution, I have to state my problem,
except I can't state my problem in the surveys to solve the problem
because that's biased.
Likewise, I can't wait until I'm done with the surveys to state the problem
because that's biased.
I'm biased against surveys, I think, but that doesn't solve the problem
because I still haven't clearly defined the problem I'm
trying to solve because the surveys aren't evaluated.
I should evaluate the surveys
to define the problem
to use the surveys
to solve the problem,
but to evaluate the surveys, I need a problem to solve.
The only problem I have at the moment
is the problem of having surveys,
but that's biased.
Advice to a CaterpillarMy dear, what they told you is true:
everything will be alright, in the end,
but what they didn't tell you
is that the means will be terrible.
The world will be cold when you escape yourself,
and when you
the cucoon, when you
the skin, when you crawl free? You'll be doomed.
That's the truth of the matter, plain
You'll be soft, little crawling thing; you'll be naïve,
and the wings they promised you
will be limp, and wet.
They will not work when you need them most,
clinging horrified to the gnarled edges of the world.
Every breeze will remind you
of what you thought you could do,
of what you must do,
of what you cannot even hope to do,
and hanging there, bedraggled and raw,
you will stare out unblinking
and know that you won't make it if the rain comes too soon,
Re: ModernTo the urns, to mirages that hover close
with talk of Dickenson, and Hughes, and Kerouac
Be quiet. They cannot hear your loosening screws.
For what would you want the breakup of all wondrous things,
the fractioning of personage?
Be quiet. None are listening, but
for the guttering of a candle flickering,
no audience is audience all the same, having lived at both ends,
The world shrinks, and I am not
the child of ghosts, of powdered glass reflecting
brightness and green glowing things, immaterial
and sickly. The ozone stink of burning cord,
the tired plague of heavy gold, of lead,
are me. My alchemy has run dry, and, brittle,
I resign myself to analysis
and am disassembled.
I am The PragmatistI am The Pragmatist, criminal mastermind, nemesis of the League of Crimefighters, supervillain, genius, monster, prisoner. This tale I pen is not for my own benefit. I stand only to lose from telling my story, and I know that I will lose terribly. I am writing this because I am compelled to, and I can only hope with what remains of my faith, and of my sanity, that some good will come of it.
I remember the first time that the true nature of my world was revealed to me. I was in prison; I had been apprehended once again by Apex and his league of masked heroes and left to rot in a cell identical to ones I had been in before. Fool that I was, I thought that it was due to my error, a flaw in my plans, and as I lay on my cot I reviewed my actions, vowed to finally realize my goals as soon as I escaped. Then I set to work, crafting an escape route out of the prison; materials came to me as they always did, unknowingly gifted to me in the furnishings of my cell and the implausible technologi
Reminiscence of a Postmodern CriticOh yeah. Preach it
We are the children of a thousand racketeers
with wheels strapped to our feet
and wings to our backs
and stars burning the palms of our hands
so that we let go and fall, whooping, back to the ground.
I can't forget the smell
of ozone and bones, like a gasoline fireplace
and the sound they made when they hit the dirt
like birds against windows:
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Political refugees from the stratosphere
we failed our road tests
and had our heels revoked for being too round
even though they were really too flat, like busted tires.
I can't forget the look
on their faces, like a lightbulb burning out
and the sound they made when they tried to walk
like cars without chassis:
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Crazy scribblers, trying to write the billion names of God
we traded feathers for dollars
and dollars for feathers
so we could pen our tales with politically-correct quills
although our words fell heavy on the pages
like acid raindrops, bitter:
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Just a little Girl ((Jeff the Killer x Reader))5BEN'S P.O.V.
He woke up in the middle of a room, a tail in his mouth. "asdfghjkl..." He spit it out looking around. " I'm in the Neko room? Wh-he-ell~ What girl did I hit on last night?" He looks down at the two Neko's beside him. " Kat and Kitten.... Oh shit oh shit oh shit. What the hell have I done." He frantically tries to crawl out from under them hopefully not waking them up. Those two Neko's, they were easily the most dangerous from the rest. He's surprised he came out unscathed.
He notices Masky running off from the doorway with something shiny in his hand." Well how am I gonna explain this one......" He didn't notice the awoken cats behind him as Kat glares at him throwing his tunic at the back of his head. " Put some clothes on you creep!" He looks down realizing he was butt naked, quickly going into the nearest screen cursing under his breath.
"Oh man this is great! Since e
Remember To Smile~
This is the seventh note you must have goten from me.
Don't be scared...That's look's likes nothing compared to a smile.There amazing aren't they,but! I want you to know that tonight it's time to make you smile....
BUT!!! just to be sure do you want your me to gut your parents or hang them? YOU KNOW WHAT THEY BOTH SOUND DELIGHTFUL!!! So when the clocks strikes 10:00 be sure not to lock your doors. Cause you can't run then!
Cause i'm already here.....
Check The Clock and Remember To Smile~
2p!italyxreader-two heads are better than one- ch1[ chapter one ]
> another side of the story <
"Feri-Kun,come here." Your eyes still fixed on the pasta you were cooking, you tapped Feliciano softly on the shoulder.
"Kiku wants you." You said, stirring the pasta, which sizzled softly in response.
Feliciano waved at the pasta, saying a goodbye. You rolled your eyes and quietly whispered,"Don't say goodbye to food, Idiota."
...Man, you've been hanging around Lovino too much.
Bored with your thoughts, and the pasta, you listened in on Kiku and Feliciano's conversation.
"Feri-kun, Ludwig-san is coming back."
"Veeee~! He-a is? Iam so-a haaappy!"
"F-Feri-kun, carm down!!"
Kiku sweat-dropped, holding the Italian down so he wouldn't flip tables out of happiness.
You chuckled a bit and sighed.
It would be nice to see your boyfriend again, after two years.
"When is he coming?" you thought aloud. Kiku was silent.
You could tell Feliciano was waiting as well, because the table was still intact.
Outcasts: Chapter 2 - Survival and Safety
Jace tossed and turned in his bed. The sunlight reflected apon his eyes and proceeded with a groan. He opened his eyes, enough to see what time it was. Looking at the time, he sighed. 8:23AM. Too early for him, that's for sure.
Jace layed up and dragged his legs off the bed then stood up. Letting out a huge yawn. He opened the door to his room and walked out. The sweet smell of an early morning breakfast crawled up Jaces' nose. He scratched his messy white hair as he entered the kitchen. "Whats cooking, dude?" he asked, in a raspy morning voice.
"Good morning to you too." Said Hunter, sarcastically.
"Right, morning. Again, whats cooking, dude?"
"Food, Jace. Food" Hunter said, with an annoying tone. "Instead of standing there, why don't you be useful and go wake Ella up?"
Jace chuckled. "Someones having a bad morning." He mumbled under his breath as he walked out the kitchen to wake the kid up. Entering the little girl's room, he kneeled down next to her. "Ella! Wake up!" He yelled, sca
The Killers (A Creepypasta Fanfic) Chapter 5Chapter 5
The world stopped for a moment. There was absolutely no way that this could be happening. Jenny'd just started to get over her parents and now they're on the news? Not to mention she's being mentioned, too. No doubt, the police were trying to find her. Not as a missing person but as a murderer. She was probably their No.1 suspect by now.
Jenny didn't waste any time. She pushed Sally aside and rocketed down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her. In the living room, Miranda and Simon both had their eyes glued to the TV. On the screen was a male broadcaster and a picture of Jenny's old apartment building. In the kitchen, James was casually eating a sandwich as if there was nothing going on. Jenny practically threw herself on the couch and grabbed the remote out of Miranda's hands. She immediately turned up the volume. Here's what she heard:
"In other news, a man and woman's bodies were found on the sixth floor o
Wanna play with us - FINAL part 3Half an hour later Kaiju was dropping him off at the same site they had met. They abandon the bike in an ally.
-Well, now I guess we go our separate ways. Kaiju said stretching
-Who’s the chupacabra the other was talking about?
-Ah! Just Slasher! I guess he wasn’t happy that I didn’t bring them along…*sigh* Well, I’m leaving you here…you don’t want me knowing where you live if I ever get bored
-I know where YOU live! I’m the one who’ll probably come! Kage said teasing
-*snickers* No you don’t! Believe me
-Hum, as a matter of fact I DO!
-So you think! Kaiju said enigmatically
No use talking with this one when he was sure of something. No bother, Kage will just have to prove him wrong
-And now…now I have to get that little Chihuahua before he does something again! Kaiju said
-He’s that much of handful?
-You have no idea? What’s the closet school in this era and the place I’m crashing?
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More