Sideways glances and meanderings
Staring down some dark alley street
Cobbled and
oh
so
crooked.
This sway of me breezes free
seeking peace
not seeking.
Blood rushes through these veins
but ethereal do I sometimes feel
when falling.
Sweet surrender to do we offer ourselves to each other
and truly believe this is it.
Who are we kidding?
Death has no mercy and sometimes won't even let us die
but instead waste away inside of
bars
flesh
dreams.
So it be
so it be
but not definitely..
I was on my way to Times Square to buy myself some coffee at Starbucks. I rested down for a little bit at one of the tables and noticed a man outside the window asking some people for loose change. I stared at my coffee and back at the man and I went outside and walked towards the man. He had scrawny, dirty hands and he looked like he hadn't bathe in weeks. I then asked him kindly if he has hungry. He had the brightest look in his eye and that toothy grin. He gladly accepted and we both...
My name is Mallard Duck.
I have BiPolar disorder.
I will fight it to the living end. And lose, probably
Starting with: this is the WOST topic ever posted here.
Still -- I'm a hero on a Ducky Scale for saying so.
She'd always come running when I called. I could have called her to come get a splinter out of my hand, to help me with my homework, to get me out from the tree in my backyard, or just so I could see her smiling face for hours as we talked. I was so use to this that the idea that some day she wouldn't come running when I called never even crossed my mind. I loved her with every single particle that made up my body.
At this exact moment though the only thought I could think was that...
i bet i can beet u home shouted ben as he leapt past muddy puddles not caring about getting covered by whatevar was in his path "hay mum said that u have to look after me wait!!" cried lizzie bens little sister "you better keep up then" "oh your soo anoying" ben crashes through the kitchen door covering the floor in mud as mum gives him a look that ses i have jus spent the last half hour washing that floor and were is your sister i told u to keep an eye on her but mum i was only...
to My son before I die
Take me from this bed, your knuckled curtained hands the fear the dread, for I have none of that. Throw away the flowers, for I am not yet dead.
Take me out to lie again on the Earth
if there is any left
and let me paw the Earth like the Animal I am
here I lie, and She is warming to me.
Do you want to hear about it, she asked. The doors slid shut.
I couldn't say.
There was the first ding.
No, I said. Not really.
I want to tell you about it, she said.
The second ding.
She stood next to the panel. I leaned back against the opposite corner. No others at this time of night, in this elevator, in this place.
Fine, I said. Tell me about it.
It was warm. We in our winter coats, too warm, as far as we could get away from each other in our opposite corners of the elevator.
The third...
Sean
By Jane Jones
He was late again. This had happened a lot over the past month and tonight she was determined to find out why.
She had been busy all day clearing out his wardrobe. He never did this and sometimes it annoyed her so she did it for him and it was beans on toast for his dinner. She hated doing him beans on toast as she always thought it was not a proper dinner but tonight she just wanted to make him happy so beans on toast it was going to be.
She poured herself another glass...
Hero at Midnight
No one could remember who among them gave him the name Rooster; probably someone long gone by this point. A seventy percent casualty rate will leave one gaping hole in the communal memory. Everyone could remember why: yodeling and ukelele music in the pre-dawn hours was inexcusable by any measure. It had started after the battle for Hill 487. Most of Rooster's squad had been blown into pieces too small to put back together. Hence the coping mechanism. However, after two weeks of this crap, enough was enough, and Private Morlane drew the short stick: shut him...
Tom jumped and all that remained were the boots.
Our pa made us kids wear boots many sizes too small all the time. Even in the scorching sun we'd have them on, blistering our bare feet, twisting toes out of shape, uncut nails growing under. No-one was ever allowed to remove them or there would be trouble.
Whenever I recall that image of boots on the shore I'm so envious. Tom is free. Somewhere. Maybe he swam to the other side and is now having a fantastic life. Or maybe he's dead. He would be in heaven if that was...