He let Sai take him anywhere. Because that's what near-siblings with the official title of co-workers did. Take each other places. Lunch, most frequently, when they were the only two at the headquarters. The two speed demons made quick work of any trip, surmounted the worst of downtown Tokyo's traffic--legality of driving up the sides of buildings could be called into question, but that was only natural to them--parked and dismounted behemoth motorcycles in Gothic Lolita and gloomy Visual Kei as if they'd just strolled through a park. Naturally, when visiting the monuments, like the Tokyo Metropolitan Government building, they...
i could be someone else,
a beauty queen,
a famous singer,
I could be an artist,
painting mountains and seasides,
making millions.
i could be a tv producer,
sitting in a beach chair and yelling at cast and crew.
But i choose to just be me.
I'm not a beauty queen,
an artistic genius,
or a tv producer.
but i'm unique.
there's no one else who can see through my eyes,
No one has walked two moons in my sneakers,
and that's the way i like it.
my mind is uncharted territory, my soul has never been explored. i'm a...
"I know you're up there," she screamed against the roar of waves crashing on the rocks. "And I know you can hear me. We have to talk, please come down."
A tugboat groaned out in the bay, and the gulls squawked overhead.
"It's bright enough today, you don't need to be up there.Please come down."
The wind whistled.
"Fine. Be that way. Make me stand down here and yell. I don't care. Actually, this is the perfect metaphor for our relationship. Me down here trying to talk to you and you boarded up in your useless tower. You think you...
I found the small book when we had to pack Grandpa's things so he could move out of that old house, and into an old people's apartment building. Mom said it would be better for him there, people could watch him and take care of him. Better care than she could, she said.
I said I could do it, but she said I had to go to school, and I never even walked the dog before he went to live on that farm we see on the side of the highway between our house and Grandpa's.So how could I expect...
Disappeared into the cityscape,
hiding unintentionally,
friend to only the birds,
for they are the only ones who
will keep this lone soul company.
On days like these, it's easier
for him to just stay in the shadows,
he has, after all, been living as
one. A familiar shadow of his former
life before he had succumbed to
the circumstances that brought
him to this humble time in his life,
whatever they may have been-
drugs, loss of a job, mentally
unstable. But this man was- and still
is- a man. Although it may not seem
like it on this...
There once was a man named Fernando
Who encountered a man named Orlando
They met at mid-morning
But then, without warning
They were killed by a robot commando
Skipper was panting from the last half hour of running, in fact he was frothing at the mouth. Compared to the rest of his pack however, Skipper was doing quite well. In their eerily black and white world, one of their best friends had begun to experiment on the poor dogs, and now, their world had exploded inexplicably into a cosmos of strange and disconcerting qualities. The farmer had, much to Skipper and the other dogs' dismay, altered the K-9's to the point that they had been forced to trust their previously useless eyes more than their noses. What had...
Write as you please,
In six minutes,
Like a breeze.
I fear that,
Without a prompt,
The words won't flow,
Compet-
ently.
So I'll leave you this poem,
With it's oddities and misrhymes,
Mismatched verse and rhythms,
Lines that run out of time.
Words that make no sense,
Lines that are too dense,
And of course you must remember,
In this chilly month of September,
That poetry doesn't have to rhyme.
Bombs were the last thing on his mind. He had to find Emma. He fought against the flow of people pressing against him. He had long ago given up on trying to be civil and careful with the people going the other way. Panic showed in their eyes as in his. Where was she? Emma he called, Emma. Louder, again and again. Emma! His voice cracked the lump in his throught killing all sound. He pushed harder pressing himself through tiny spaces between and over people. The farther he got the more chaotic his surroundings. Emma, he looked around, scanning...
The cut was more jagged than she would have liked, but the little bastards were always squirming while she decapitated them. Still, the look of terror in its wide, lifeless eyes was one of the best she'd seen yet.
She headed back to the cottage; she'd have to dip the head in tar and put it on top of a stake along with the rest on the perimeter of her garden. So far, the warning had done little to deter the pests from stealing her fruit and vegetables - food that she and her little brother needed to live comfortably...