Burning “Fire…” It lapped and nipped at his bare skin playfully as he stood within a ring of fire. He didn’t understand where he was, or why he was here. Or why burning didn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would. He stared downward at his body in complete disbelief, “I’m… I’m on fire.” It hardly hurt at all… well, maybe that was a lie. “…Am I in hell?” he surveyed his surroundings, “I mean, I know that I’ve done things I’m really not proud of… but hell? And I don’t even know how I died…” He looked around, squinting to see where he was. “Wai
Mutti“Why am I here again…?” Derek Stiles questioned silently, lowering his head as he rang the doorbell. The drive over had been slightly agonizing. It wasn’t that Derek hated his mother-in-law… It was just that she hated him, and every chance she got, she would let him know. It didn’t matter how patient he was with her, or how nice he was to her, she would show him the same coldness. “This woman hates my guts.” “Oh, she does not.” The voice shook the brunette out of his thoughts. “She’s just wary.” Derek raised an eyebrow at his wife, the glanced down to his son. “She wants
The Switch -edited-The sun was always young Derek Stiles’ enemy… especially when he was trying to sleep. ‘Lie with the moon, rise with the sun’ had never been his motto. Ever. He’d even go so far as to install the heaviest, most light shielding curtains he could find in his bedroom.Well then, why is all this sun in my room…? It’s… making it hard to go back to sleep, he thought groggily, as his hand came down on the area where his alarm clock should’ve been. There’s something strange about my room. He shrugged it off, ignoring the abnormality in favor of relieving himself in the nearest bathroom. He pushed open
MISSING: one sisterI swear I'll never cry again,When I see the memories that I cherish,I swear I'll never wish to be little,To avoid all the pain of your overlooking me.I swore to myself I'd never hope to god you'd make me another get better card.I would die from the grief.I swear I'd never remember the timesYou forced me into playing with you,Because it only makes me bitter.Why did you leave me alone?Just because we're four years apart,Doesn't mean you have any right to snub me,Don't treat me like I'm not here,Because one day I won't be.You'll be sorry, you'll be sorry.I swear I'll make it true.Sisterhood is a team effort,Wh
PLAYING WITH ACIDI'm not who I am.Who am I not? I'm not who I can be.Who can I not be?I'm not feeling great.I'm not feeling like me.Behind everything…I…I'm blind to everything including you.I slit your throat that night, swearing.Only to be dazed when you spat in my eye./That's the last time, I swear./-I know it.-You repeated yourself slowly, and…I won't be your poison anymore, be your drug.You won't use me and kick me to the curb Your lust For meyou have given everythingUp there, heaven calls… but I want…Hell, I can't keep what I want.Stay with me until I burn away in my own pending mortality.I'm not who I am whe
Suicide PoemSometimes I have moods that slashed wrists cannot fix,Moods where the gun in my hand and my skull meet,Water and lungs mix,And even poison tastes sweet.Moods that make me cry,Moods that get me down,Moods where I want to die,Face down on the floor, on my face, a frown.The lackidaisical days gone by,have flown far away.People I know and love now die,Because of God's evil play.Maybe because I'm getting older,I've started to see the light.An angel looks down, God scoffed and told her,"Dim rats, they try with all their might."So, poison be my friend tonight,I've gotten a little lonely,Your mystical magic I won't
Phantom EmotionIt was a phantom, never real,Never feeling the pain of living at all,Walking around without a face,Only a body without a soul…Without a face, one can't ever feel whole,It goes around, wishing.Stealing taking robbing …Longing for a chance to feel.But without a face,It will never be really there, really humanEmotion can hurt the soul.One hates, and hates,Devoured by the darkness,Never seeing the light of a warm summer sun...Never feeling the sadness of a rainy Saturday…Never knowing how many people love them,Miss what they used to be.Wish what they used to be would come back.Come back to inhabit their empty
My Only Legitimate FearWhat to do? It seems as insignificant as a drop of water, but it weighs heavily, like a blue whale in the ocean of my soul.After the school bell rings for the last time…And all of the seniors flee, like drunks out of a baseball stadium,I will still be here.I will be left behind, unknowing what to do with myself.With my life.With the rest of my time.The skyscraper of possibilities towers of me.I’m a speck of dust.I just want to be remembered.To make my mark on the world.The world is like a human body… and I am a cell.A single cell.What can a single cell do on its own?There are too many people.No
Sayonara, Dai-chan... I've always been sort of a macho man; you'd never see me showing emotion, or how much I care, or how much things really bother me. You'd never see me in the corner, knees drawn up to my chest, fighting to breathe through the sobs wracking through my body. No… you'd never see me like that. I'm only in the corner, my legs are straight and I'm just lost in thought. I'd never let anyone see me like this either… not only have I completely lost sight of my professional demeanor, but I have yet to take a shower, so I stink and my hair is greasy. My clothes are disgusting too… I guess that's what I get. No one will ever see me like this… or at least
FailureFailure. "Ano… okaasan, otousan…?" Ronin's gentle voice cut through the tension and silence. "Mother, father…" That got their attention; they had always wanted him to learn English… his English was not always grammatically correct, but it was English nonetheless. "I know you have fiancée for me… and that you like me try harder at training. But I would not like to be a spiritualist, and I have lover back in America. And I want to go back to them." He didn't have to say it. He didn't have to come out to them, when back in America, he would sever all ties with his family. They never cared about him anyway… "Ronin. You are to stay in Japan,
The Fever - ch1 - Du Hast Mich“Who could that be at this hour? Ugh! Where are my snackoos?!” The ornery brunette armed herself with her bag of chocolate snackoos and threw her front door open. Her annoyance quickly turned to anger. “Agh! Why are you here?” She was shouting, but he merely smiled. He was soaked from head to toe, and his blonde hair was out of it’s usual braid.“Fräulein Detektiv, may I come inside? I would usually never intrude on such a beautiful woman as you this late, but… circumstances beyond my co-”“Agh!! Just get in here!!” Ema growled, stepping aside to let the blonde prosecutor in. “Okay
The Fever - ch2 - Morning HighIt was a little hard for Ema, getting used to Klavier living in her apartment. It was strange enough that he was living there, but he still hadn’t told her anything about the disease. All she knew about it was one, it was deadly, and two, it was called Borginian Fever. She opened up her internet browser and got down to her investigation. Wikipedia came up with a blank page, yahoo results came up with “associated pages”. Google came up blank too. Just then, she remembered WebMD.“Bingo…” she muttered under her breath, “Borginian Fever works in stages. Stage one‘s symptoms include… Nausea, vomiting,
The Fever -ch3- Mein Herzt...Asleep at home. She left the precinct, called him, even made a run to his office… and found him asleep on the couch at home. After munching on a few snackoos, she sighed. “You’re killing me, Gavin. You’re seriously killing me,” she muttered, stepping closer and noticing in slight horror at what he’d done to his gorgeous hair. The drill shaped ponytail laid on the coffee table, clearly, and quite messily chopped off. “What the hell? You could have asked me to cut it or whatever…” She rolled her eyes and turned away, “You’d probably say something stupid like, Me cutting off my own ponytail,
EinsamkeitEinsamkeit. She drove, petal to the metal, in a complete daze. Shooting down the highway. Speeding - sixty-five, seventy-five, even eighty-five - the adrenaline dulling her senses. She had looked for her answers. She had called him. But he was gone. Einsamkeit. The worst word in her German vocabulary. Loneliness, she was lonely. The most accurate word to describe her solemn, seemingly endless drive to her mother’s house. This wasn’t fair to them. This wasn’t fair to anyone. Why had this happened? Why? The simplest three letter word in the goddamn English language, but the most heart-wrenching, hardest question to answer.
Sta.sh
