ArcheVixen, 31 december 2011
The coarse and filthy rag scraped against my skin, chafing against the numerous scars on my body, some new, some old. For how many times I have been beaten I have lost count. Like a curious little child, I fingered my scars gingerly, feeling the contrast of new tissue against old ones, the smooth and (... więcej)
ArcheVixen, 31 december 2011
The artist creased his already wrinkled forehead, focusing intently on the model, looking for the essence of her, for the element inside of her, the one thing that differentiates her from all his other work pieces. His old and tired grey eyebrows matched his whitening hair and unshaved stubble; the blood (... więcej)
ArcheVixen, 31 december 2011
The young girl stood in front of the loaves and loaves of bread in the supermarket. Looking at them, she salivated a little, for the food that she was looking for was right in front of her. Yet, despite the bread, with its faint aroma of the flour and its fillings rushing into her nose and exciting her, (... więcej)
Naykd Poet, 30 december 2011
Anticipating the ugliness of the apparent prognosis for the coming year 2012, long perceived to be filled with `life-changing’ events for most in the world and, given the situation of conflict and chaos that presides in most places in the world as 2011 draws to a close, that prophesied has a likely (... więcej)
liyo, 29 december 2011
you don't know. that's fine. let's get lost. chasing and challenging
the potential of seeking solace. increased. mainly due with the thought. of seeing your own reflection. specifically, on bygone cities all across the pacific. stamp it on your forehead. stamp it and be sacred. to hell (... więcej)
lusekelo simwela, 28 december 2011
I made a marvelous feat
I jumped from the fire into the flying pan
I hid on piece of meat. . .
It was slightly cooler but never satisfying. . .
Temporary. . .
The meat kept being scooped up
So I had to jump to e next one
I got used. . .
So I kept jumping even when they were not being scooped (... więcej)
Patrick Fleskes, 28 december 2011
In the slow burnin' evenin’,
In the stale-air day of winter,
With the sun a-making her decent,
Due East,
A fury of orange, sunflower seed,
Mendin' softly into purple,
We make our pilgrimage.
A product of an industrial-age,
The combustion engine we use,
Coughs and heaves smoke,
(... więcej)
Patrick Fleskes, 28 december 2011
Today I met the devil,
He stood beside me in complacent,
Well-adjusted dominant stance, where,
That bastard is always found,
The crossroads.
As the sun fell 'neth,
Clouds ominous enough t',
Prelude extinction.
The crosswalk yelled at my vision,
A dark binary "Don't (... więcej)
HarleaQuinn66, 28 december 2011
Chapter Three: Samantha
17 years old
I woke up to a wet pillow, I'd been crying in my sleep. I had that dream again; that memory. It seems so long ago now, but the dreams never stopped.
I was coming back home from my rose garden, I was in a good mood because I finally was able to see (... więcej)
HarleaQuinn66, 28 december 2011
Chapter Two: Isaac Dawns
18 years old
I remember her... I remember what happened all those years ago. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I was only 8 years old at the time. I was sitting outside in the dark watching the moon when I heard it. A small sniffling sound and the soft crunch (... więcej)
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