[x]

I have your number, SeabirdHis bathroom is small and bleak. The mirror
shows your reflection in seven colors which
haven't been named on the red-blue-yellow
spectrum. Your eyes are shaking like eggs
and he hasn't said your name in a year. You
think of everything he calls you: Jay, Jaybird,
Rose if he's playful. He told you particles of
every man he's slept with are in the carpet
when he pulled your head back to look into
your pupils. Your eyes are black. They run,
raw and rotten from fluorescence overhead.

He told you the shrooms weren't the same.
If you don't like LSD, you might feel better
trying something more natural. It grows
like marijuana: from the ground. But

i will rest by the river and bloomi have eaten so many cherries i have lost count,
my fingers bundled up with their stems, my teeth aching.
with the fruit flesh still threaded around them, the seeds
look like little organs, little stone hearts:
i eat them all, every one. maybe they will hatch in my stomach
like bitter eggs, and a thousand hundred giant trees will
grow slowly though my stomach and my bloodstream, maybe they will
burst up and out through my mouth. i will be a bleeding flowerpot,
a forest floor with shoes, an incubator. i will be the zombie
apocalypse of cherry trees. i will grow my wooden teeth through the roof.
my bad decisions will touch the sky.

what comes is better than what came beforea man, once,
of whom i am quite fond
for his green eyes
and olivine
skin,
came up to me and inquired
how he might look
with the barrel of a gun
in his mouth.

i said,
well,
you have
the cheekbones for it,
but i think
perhaps
you'd look better at
the bottom of the ocean
or with a rope around your
neck.

better still,
i continued,
lulled safely to sleep
in my arms
on a warm afternoon,
cherry red
lipstick stains
on your forehead

and
maybe even
a cat
on your lap.

JuniorFinally, an upperclassman
The year seems to fly by
As you wait for the coveted title of Senior
But you feel stuck
As your boyfriend is off at college
Experiencing
And you are still here
Waiting
And you want him to come back
And you hope he comes back
So you get promise rings
So he has to promise to come back
And sometimes he comes back every weekend
And sometimes not for a month
And sometimes promises are broken
And you are up until the early morning
Fighting
Meanwhile, you are suddenly aware of how
Different you are from everyone
All your friends are picture-perfect
Cookie-cutter representations of
The Ideal Teenager
And every morning, you

Queen of HypocrisyVixen, vixen, pretty little vixen. Why you be vexin'? You think you're so stunning, you think you're so mighty,
you think you're so clever, but really you're so naughty.
With coat as red as flame, and the visage of friendly appeal, you draw people in close
just so you could make them burn and kneel. Why, vixen, why are you so mean?
Do you really think so low of yourself you have to demean?

You speak philosophically, you speak like a sage, but your words are lies woven by the deranged.
You're modest upon sight, I'll give you that, but once people think they know you,
you strike and bite. You can't stand to be questioned, you have to be

lily pads.I let you crack me open
and allowed your sadness
to fill my empty chest.

Tears; like sea salt
on my ribcage–

From the nourishment
of your remorse,
flowers began to bloom
inside the crevice
of my breastbone.

The Stage of LifeThe lights flare up,
glaring at me,
accusing me;
sirens screaming their judgements.

I stand in front of the light,
made up on the stage of life.
The gun's in my hands,
the body's on the ground,
the blood's decorating the floor.

Tired, rehearsed shouts echo,
"You have the right to remain silent..."
"Please, son, can you tell me you didn't do it..?"
"anything you say can and will be used against you..."
"You've always been such a good boy,
tell the policeman the truth..."
"You're innocent until proven guilty."

You want the truth?
That wasn't in the script,
honesty was never written...

Do you expect me to spill,
explode with all these secret

FakeIn my mind,
I see the light.

The light shines in my eyes,
Causing me to be blind.

The blindness makes me see things,
Things like the future.

I feel dizzy,
My world is turning.

I see the light,
It blinks in my vision.

Oh, how I could’ve been good for you,
Don’t be so cruel to me.

People crowd around,
I want to see what’s going on.

Alas, I see a dreadful thing,
A boy is crying.

People are laughing,
Picking on him because he’s weak.

I push through the crowd,
Extending a hand towards him.

He smiles, grins with tears in his eyes,
He grabs my hand.

I pull him up and hug him,
I’m finally wanted.

Elements of ChangeWhat is it that makes this different?
Is the air different?
What fills my lungs, is that the change?
What in this is not the same?
Is it the way my hair falls?
What brushes my shoulders, is that the change?
What holds the alteration?
Is it in the steps down the street?
What moves my being, is that the change?

No.

Tick tockTick tock

Time is running out.

Don't you dare waste it.

Doesn't matter if you look.

Up,down left or right.

Won't cheat this time.

Stuck on a question I see.

Didn't you studied last night?

Tsk, tsk shame on you.

You see,i'm the clock that's hangs in every classroom.

Tick tock I am the clock.

Should I slow down for your sake?

Need more time?

No can do!

I wont wait for you.

I go slow, when you don't want to.

I go fast when you desperately need more.

Isn't it funny?

To see all your faces.

Stressing

Working

Nervous

And confused.

Tick tock minutes are seconds now.

Better scribble down your last answers

For I declare it is o

the writer's diseasemy conversations become
blurs of i-miss-you's
littered on the cold floor of empty promises.
you deserve something more than
silhouettes of words, casting shadows onto my heart
filling it with tricks of light
that try to hide away the darkness.

sit down and stay for a while--
except i'm going to go
because i never learned how to keep
the beautiful things
for more than a little at a time;

i'm left chain smoking words like cigarettes
one word after the other after the other,
exhaling them all with my cancer
and my thick, black lungs.

and they say a cigarette takes seven minutes
from your life--
yet these words take memories from mine,
str

Winter PactBeneath the firmament of a dull white sky,
Three sons of the Earth trudged forth to a snowy hilltop,
So that the foremost among them may cry-
“Old Man Winter!”
“Old Man winter!”
“Why must ye be so bitter!?”
“My sons are fatigued and my daughters are cold,”
“They suffer from the wrath of your ire,”
“I would ask that your transgressions against us,”
“Cease if I may be so bold!”

A grey cloud formed in the sky,
Shifting itself into an old man’s face,
That was quick to reply-
“My transgressions shall not cease,”
“And you may not be s

TonightBlood-lust
Calls for war.
Swords and spears alike are
Sharp with eager destruction;
They rise into the air
In a sea of molded
Silver
While drunken
Monsters and men
Battle it out on the bloodstained
Battlefield,
Where death is as common
As a breath of rancid air.
And tonight,
Above the massacres,
The moon shines as
Bright as a supernova,
Burning up the sky with
It's flaming light.
It calls for howls of pain and fear
From the soldiers down
Below.
And tonight,
Drinking moonshine,
Even the werewolves will cry.

Story of Evil (Fairy Tail Ver)Hey guys! Haven't published something in ages! IM STILL ALIVE XD. I wanted to start a new story, even though I have like 4 other stories to do, I will be updating them very soon, maybe tomorrow. I will give you some info about my other stories.
The Demon boy and The Girl- Is still alive, I have written the chapter, but haven't got around uploading it. GOMENASAI .

Anyways... onto this one. I've been obsessed with Kagamine Rin and Len, well for a long time. And I LOVE THE STORY OF EVIL (if you dunno them, its like a bunch of songs that makes a sad story that I love) and I decided, why not make a Fairy Tail ver.
I've been in love with the songs

Lost Memories: Chapter OneThe woman could only hold her stare for so long before she had to turn away. She wanted more than anything to talk to her sister, to know who was taking care of her. She glared at the stranger who held Emily in his arms before abruptly turning around and leaving, without so much as a word to them.

She began walking deep into the forest. Her mind was racing. What had happened since she became a proxy? How much of Emily's life had she missed? What was the girl's life like now? And, what was it going to be like? She witnessed the fire at the house. She could guess what was going to happen to the mother... Oh, God. Now her sister was alone again

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Eulogy of Twin TowersRest, thou weary wanderers

Victims to an atrocity unknown.

Find peace in thine disaster

As you leave thine earthly home.

Let those thou see below thee

Find solace in this time.

And let the men enacting

Be punished for their crimes.

May you find sweet songs above you

As you soar on yonder gales

And may your ears be deaf

To the sound of echoing wails.

And finally, may you hope

That one day, far ahead

That people down below you

Will not forget this day of dread.

For your sacrifice was heavy

And certainly not in vain

As those you have left behind

Attempt to cope with their disheartening pain.

Emotion Poem 3A young boy sits in his room

Reading another novel that has engrossed his imagination

Sending him across the unknown planes of existence

Into a world that, while it stimulates his mental extremities

Also tears his soul

And breaks his will.

Setting the prose down, a disappointed frown edging onto his face

He picks himself off of his bed

And walks over to the scattered papers and files strewn about his desk.

He recognizes the writing as his own;

His own hopeless fantasies of becoming one that can bring the very same stimulation

To those that are looking for that high in the form of text on paper.

But he knows that he is inadequate;

Emotion Poem 2Worth(less)

In day's past, I feel as if

I have to constantly question

The worth of my abilities,

My work,

And my ever-expanding repertoire,

To find the measure of my worth.

But where does my worth lie?

Worth(less)

In my work?

In my actions?

In my emotions?

In the thoughts that are never heard?

In the tears that are never shed?

Or in my never-ending desire to have worth?

What is my worth?

If I have any at all.

Emotion Poem 1Emotion.

My greatest gift.

The feelings of anger, happiness, sadness, etc.

The ability to have compassion towards my fellow men,

And to share the same feelings I hold dear.

To allow a shoulder to stand on

In times of uncertainty or doubt.

Emotion.

My greatest gift,

And my most terrible curse.

It my one gateway,

My escape from the world

And the harsh reality I know.

But it is also my cage;

My Limiter

My Oppressor.

In the control that I have,

I am unable to find a way of release.

I cannot express rage in times of anger.

I cannot express laughter in times of merriment.

I shed tears in times of sadness.

It is a contradiction

Hatred's Return: Chapter 5Stepping into the blinding surge of illumination that filled the outside world, I found my place in the Arena. The encampment itself was nothing less than dense jungle stretching unto lengths that were twisted and contorted. I had entered into a demented labyrinth, created by everything dark that lay within nature's conscious. Towering trees broke through holes of a wooden dome placed over the Arena. I fired a series of icicles to test the integrity of the dome, though they shattered before impact. Magically enhanced, as another safety precaution placed for the combatants' sake. Hundreds upon hundreds of citizens, eagerly awaiting the first c

Hatred's Return: Chapter 4The sunlight had long since vanished from the hole at the top of my cell, letting in only total darkness within the confines of my prison. Not even the moon and it pale, pristine strips of luminescence kept me company in my solitude. The night was bone-chilling in its cold despair. My thin clothing, combine with my fur, was barely enough to keep me from freezing. I wrapped my wings around my body to try and keep my fur from developing frost on their tips. This was a whole new level of alone for me; now I knew how the penguins felt in Antarctica. At least they had each other for warmth.

What had I become? A groveling convict in the pit of his

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The Journey

by *TheWaywordWriter, Jan 16, 2013, 4:49:49 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

Shadows dance along
The endless strip of
Asphalt. I walk down the
Line of never ending black,
Never leaving my dispute with
The heat.

"A knocking at my chamber door,
The world shall end in ice.
Behold! The Light Brigade!
Tiger, Tiger, burning bright."

Words repeat, never-ceasing,
Echoing along the grey matter ramparts
That wall the language
Within.
What is this
To anyone else?

My limbs tremble with
Fatigue, sweat rolling,
Hitting the paved road ahead.
"When will this end?" I cry,
Stumbling in my stride as I
Fall to my knees.

My breath is short;
My hands are worn,
And my bones grow weary.
My arms shudder, as does
My body, pleading
For rest.

I look before me,
Lifting my head to the
Harsh light of day.
A society,
A people in the wind
Beckon me towards them.

I hear their words.
I see their bodies urging me
To come forward.
I look past them,
Seeing a page of white,
Alone and without purpose
Fluttering in the wind.

My hands curl into fists,
The pavement disappearing
Beneath them
As I lift myself to my feat

And feel the rains fall.

The Journeyby *TheWaywordWriter

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

Well, it finally happened. After one year of being a member of Deviant Art, it finally happened. "What happened?" you may be asking. Well, I'll tell you.

I GOT 1,000 PAGEVIEWS!

*Fireworks go off in the distance*

YES! I have officially reached a milestone in my work as a literary artist! Now, I know that 1,000 pageviews probably isn't much for most people, but for me, it's an accomplishment. It means that I'm known, and gained a little notoriety along the way. If nothing else, it means that I'm better than I was the day before (or in this case, the year before).

So, this one's for you. All you future-animators, computer-virtuosos and nut-jobs that just like to screw around with Photoshop. This little piece is to the reason why I keep writing; for you guys. YOU are my motivation; you keep me thinking on what I should write next; what the theme should be and how it should be written. So I hope this pleases you in telling a story of triumph in the making.

Next Piece? A short story about a man that has lost everything.

Didn't see that coming, did you?

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

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~TheBandBrony 9 hours ago Student Writer

At first, this poem didn't really make sense to me. When it finally clicked, though, it clicked hard. What makes this poem so poignant is its communication of such a universal theme. We've all been there, disparaging about whatever may be holding us back only to press ourselves further for the sake of art. That feeling that it may suck at the time, but it'll be worth it in the end compels us to get up, like the protagonist, and walk.

Minor grammar thingy: "never ending" needs a hyphen.

*ThePenVsTheSword May 3, 2013

This was pretty good. Has a nice glimpse of hope and the reason for why everyone keeps doing what they do in the end. And we all need that reminder from time to time.

~MintyMintamin Jan 17, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I actually imagine Ifrit traveling with the captain, but he parked his boat a long away ways (is that how you say it? XD ).
And he feels the overwhelming amount of heat from the bodies of humans that he hasn't felt in a long time, so many at once. And the naked blazing sun, no longer unhampered by the leaves of the his home. Determine to meet his home, he trudges onward, eager to see his new home, the Sangue Padre.

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