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in the snowI'm not sure what exactly it is,
But a certain peace comes with it.
To not care about time.
I'm not sure what it is,
To let the sound be swallowed up.
To let the world fade.
To be left with nothing but a mind and a simple earthly desire. (warmth)
To be so close to flying away,
The chill grounds you.
Keeps you sane.
But all the same,
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Agree to terms?
Is this the real life?
Sell your soul?
The Three Step ProcessIt's a simple three step process.
It's easy not to care, really,
When the stress
It's a simple three step process,
I use to keep myself sane;
When the world seems to hang on my shoulders,
And the people have turned away,
And I find myself alone and desperate,
And relief is so far away,
And there is no end in sight,
And all I see is fright,
And everything closes in around me,
In pools and rivers of endless despair and,
RushIt was a sky.
How I flew.
There was wind,
There was color.
And the sounds I could practically see.
There was a rush of image,
flying by my eyes.
I wanted to see it all!
but it flew by too fast.
I suppose it always does.
There was a rush of air past my face,
And it stung and pushed at my exposed skin.
Whether it was pain or not,
I don't know.
(i just marveled)
There was a rush of sound,
Of wind past my face,
Plugging In - IntroI remember being excited to turn twelve.
Twelve meant sixth grade. Twelve meant the "young adult" section of the library. Twelve meant I only had one year left of kid's menus at restaurants, and twelve meant I could finally enter the songwriting contest for real prize money instead of just gift cards. But the most exciting thing about being twelve meant I was finally allowed to play virtual reality video games.
Not that I ever had the money to spend on getting a VR game or console, but I could dream, couldn't I?
Trill turned twelve a month before me, and both of us were avid console gamers. The reform laws meant that we couldn't spend too much time in a game at any one point, but that didn't stop us from dominating every co-op challenge we came across on her old Xbox. We even joined our school track team so we could keep playing without interruption. So of course, when the online community rumored Virtual Reality was making a much-needed comeback, we were all u
Stylistic NostalgiaDays go onward to up
In miraculous pristine spins
Control is lost to twirling weeks
From long passed times
And as days were passed,
A spark was noticed by me,
And the streak admired.
A glint of silver,
a clandestine crystalline cascade,
a crying cacophony of time long gone.
"The streak had profound effects, and seemed to elicit a psychological reaction" (1).
And as memories flooded back-
I had to catch my long lost breath
so far out of my control
I can't seem to regret those days
Cacophonous though their thought may be
But every child must pass through the phase
Of regretful ridiculous memories
.nostalgia the pa
Ocean of DirtSometimes
I like to think back to what the world was before
clean, honest, pure
Before the buildings crashed
Before the bodies fell
Before the ocean clogged.
What was it like? The stories never really tell
I'm falling here
I'm crying here
Miles of dust in every direction
Dirt where there once was water
Fire where once was grass.
The falling of a shattered time
How lost we all really are
It took me a while to accept my world
There were times I wanted to give up
What was the point? I asked myself
With all our culture lost
Until one person
One small tiny person
Pointed at the ocean filled with dirt and said
Look. There's a flower growing.
A Swirling RushThere is a rush of wind
The is a falling swirl of colors
All mixed up together
as one lonesome pallette
A twang of a note
Played quietly but in tune
There is life all around me
And here I am...
Crying Over Silly Things - NaPoWriMo 3I am a child that runs through lost meadows
A young little girl, a
Maiden with dreams of grandeur.
A young little girl with no sense of direction.
Crying over scraped knees and other silly things.
Only the silly things,
Otherwise, what is the point?
Knowing me, there is something to be desired,
In the crying tantrums
Every little child must endure.
I AmI am single,
but I am loved.
I am not a genius,
but I am intelligent.
I am not breathtaking,
but I have beauty.
I am not a saint,
but I am kind.
To the world,
I am not perfect.
But for someone,
Two Years LaterShe asked him gently, “Do you love me?”
In his long silence, she found closure,
And left her love under a willow tree.
lung canceri will die with your name on my lips
because there is nothing else i'll need to say.
you are my coffin, my funeral pyre.
as my bones disintegrate, popping and snapping,
you will greedily swallow my ashes
until nothing is left of me but secondhand smoke.
i've danced with you, love, across hospital tile,
the scent of antiseptic cloying as valentine's chocolate.
you dipped me into unconsciousness,
and i willingly closed my eyes.
the intrusion of your scalpel teeth no longer scares me.
you, my rigor mortis soul mate, always take me under.
your tent of frostbitten shelter pulls me down, an anchor,
while i gag on pills too abstract to save me.
forgive me, lungs, of my cigarette abuse,
but i've found happiness in a reaper's cloak.
i find comfort in these carcinogens.
i've made my nest in a swaying tree,
my body destroyed by the nauseous rocking.
they smile at me with pity in their eyes,
scribbling nonsense on those jaw-like clipboards.
their crisp, stark white world still has faith in me,
you've been dead for a year, my deari met you on december 21st,
the longest night of the year.
you had solstice eyes: cold, dark, alluring.
i knew you were not meant to last,
powerful as a gale but fragile as
the tulip stems you snapped,
a sickening cycle of you,
an overwhelming tidal wave.
they say two wrongs will never make a right,
but i made so many bad choices that
i wound up back where I began.
it was too easy to love you,
but getting you to love me back was impossible.
i clawed at your chest until I struck blood,
until my nails split into shards.
you were born a phantom,
and i, your corpse.
holding onto you felt like drowning in quicksand;
i fought but always sank into your arms.
i breathed in dirt, breathed in dust, and
found my organs choked with you,
smothered by your existence.
you sucked out my breath
every time i kissed you.
i died every day with your hand
knotted in my hair.
You left on june 21st,
the longest day of the year.
i bit down sorrow and deconstructed
the labyrinth within me,
the one you hadn't th
I give upSometimes
I try so hard to change for people
Do what they want,
Listen to their critiques,
Try to be a good friend..
But you know?
Everyone makes mistakes,
is not perfect,
is tired and stressed and slips,
It is never good enough,
no matter what I do,
nobody ever sees what I changed,
everybody always only sees my faults.
I get criticised for what I did wrong,
but never acknowledged for what I changed,
I give up.
I don't have the energy anymore,
to always justify myself,
to always go up and be the one,
that is bad,
to always be the one,
Sometimes I think I'm better off without anyone...
Eye of the StormI believed I could make the wind blow,
and force the moon to shine at night,
create rainbows just by thinking,
and hold tea parties for fairies in July,
I was the queen of my own graceful lands.
Yet, I grew old and realized,
I am the kind of girl who'd trip and fall,
often for stepping on her own feet.
My crown of diamond and gold
now a rusted piece of bronze,
I lost my throne to treason, my kingdom to hate,
I became the eye of a hurricane,
loaded with mishaps I need to atone.
I felt the soft touches of angels,
and lost my own wings to demons who could crush stone.
Felt the scorching tears run so often,
I knew I must have hit bottom low.
I had nothing holy, no one to call dear,
but here I am, the starting point of my own storm.
I felt fear, clung to shadows,
encased my heart within marble walls,
and threw the keys that can unlock my soul.
So many chances I've lost with no love to seek,
and so many people I turned my back to.
I let the darkness gnaw through my bones.
A stranger walked up to me today...A man walked up to me and asked me for a cigarette… I told him I didn't smoke anymore, and he asked me why? ––I answered "because the person I used to smoke with, isn't around anymore", and he replied…"that's why I smoke."
A woman walked up to me and asked me for drugs, I replied "I have several in store…his eyes, his smile, his hands"…she whispered, "that's not a drug"…and I laughed as I said.. "if only you knew."
A child walked up to me today and asked me to play a game, I told them I was too tired to play games, i'd been playing for years, they replied…"then you must be a pro!", to which I said "yes…a pro at losing."
An old woman stared at me today, and I asked her…"is something wrong?" she answered "I was about to ask you the same question."
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
Blowing a featherThe way she blows this feather
All of them screw their knees,
Falling for her.
Blessed by a blue-eyed breeze
All of them crave an eternal embrace.
Gardens of golden flowers
Reflected stars on the water's surface
So many gifts she justly deserves
The rose-coloured feather,
Gift from heavens,
Brings daylight to a sinner
She's an angel without wings
SnowA girl at home among the snow
Dances and spins
And makes the world twirl
And where her feet touch the ground
Melting the ice
And breaking the chill
A girl with fire in her hands
Melts the world around her
Until the mountains are bare
And the snow turns to streams
Her dance doesn't notice
For in her mind
She is at home
In her place
Among the snow.
Stuck The car sputtered and shook as it came to an almost silent stop. The engine had gone silent as the horn beeped loudly through the dark night. The orange gas light blinked mockingly at the woman behind the wheel. It was making fun of her; she knew it was making fun of her. Grabbing the black cellular phone on the passenger seat, she looked at it with full intention of calling somebody to come help her.
“Oh, what the hell?!”
The “no service” sign was mocking her at the same exact time. The horn beeped loudly as she slammed her head against it once again. The day was out to get her in general. She had arrived at all her classes late, and her son was sick with the flu. The babysitter was able to watch him as she went to her late night classes. Giving a heavy sigh, she lifted her head off the wheel to look out the window. Drops of water pooled on the windshield as rain started to fall in a pitter-patter pattern. She didn’t quite understand the message th
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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