Walking with a ToddlerSlow he may be, plodding gentle his
tiny legs. Each stick is a new
exploration three steps to
“come on” you shout as he trots over
gravel laughing delighted at the crunch-crunch
beneath his feet
and back again.
A dog bounds by, so much energy that
it sparks fear in the little trekker as
he clings to your leg, begging to be lifted.
Arms wrapped around his world,
he points at the sky, tells you its blue.
The Execution of Judy MonroeIn glamour, in glitter-infested Hollywood
the movie star Judy Monroe’s almond eyes; coaled melodramatic,
tilt towards the camera.
The executioner motions forward;
a tall man, no guardian angel.
She watches his movement; spiteful, hated as he proudly glides
to prep for the grand finale.
A prayer to God with no love, each lens focused on her.
Black and white replaced by orange overalls.
She was found,
She was judged,
And Judy Monroe will be judged
Until opulence is extinguished and her dimpled cheeks sallow
and her pretty head drops.
When the tall man grazes her last touch,
leather grasps her wrists tight.
the poison plunges and she falls before them all:
behold her final bow.
release and exhale.
Twenty Ten FourWe never notice.
Our alarm doesn't ring, it sings
Pharell beating our mornings
'til we remove from our snooze. We
forgot the tink-tinker or
and emerge the same.
The same commute to work:
Heads sunk, tired eyes drunk by
thumb movements. Our ears dumb
locked into a Will-I-Am trance. Not
a glance of the changing scenes;
the only birds we see are angry.
The same office echoes with
of emails blaming others and smack-talking.
instead of actual talking. We fall for
the hype of Skype and only Siri’s
voice drones narrow answers
we accept as truth.
The same playground, huddled corners;
Children pick a blackberry instead of
picking blackberries, for their late-night
Facebook fights. Words will always hurt see:
no kids to hit with sticks and stones. Unless
there’s an app for it.
What do we do when stop?
Orwell you're too late
took thirty years to demonstrate your
doublethink and we all cling to
The Beard of intrigueHis beard was fascinating.
It was a loom, woven with intricate detail and so long it would put any wizard to shame. Each pattern in the coarse mound of hair seemed to share a secret. Perhaps they were memories- I’d heard others collect memories in such ways- etchings on their bodies, collecting objects and even journal writing. Maybe this man was his own journal.
The rest of him seemed positively ordinary. He rested in his chair in a blue business suit- albeit a little outdated for fashion, but suited the character I had begun to form in my head for him. His sorrowful eyes narrowed on a frustrated brow of greying features, illuminating a sense of tiredness. Perhaps the beard in all its might was weighting down. His skin was as rough as sandpaper, blotches and scars etching his hands and face with no revelation to the puzzle of his beard.
I wanted to move closer, debating whether it was rude to ask. The very notion excited me as I built up theories as to why his beard had the
Shopping and Wizards.A thousand bags
shuffle down the high street between
clasped hands, scrunched with new purchase.
They’re buggy-dodging the determined mothers,
the rushed businessmen-- a pinball
machine shopping centre.
A green-robed man, tall with wand and hood
must be a wizard. He’s happily
procuring sushi and sparkling water
whilst his companion;
short with her piercings and jeans treats him
as if he wore the same.
Down the high street,
two track-suited parents
zoom past on their children’s scooters—
half-smoked fags between fingers yell
how fucking amazing this is.
spotted teen raps
his love for Jesus on a muffled
He raps for the Father,
He raps for the Son
and Holy Spirit.
He raps for peace, for hope, for you.
In a corner,
Brown eyes, hefty tears,
a snot-ridden face--
four years old.
A train runs through the mall toot-tooting
as grumpy shoppers move out of the way.
Napo 8- SusanWhy did you lock her out of heaven
and throw the key
into the lions land?
A beautiful girl enjoying
a new fantasy to live.
She'd stopped believing, but
faith stays in a heart longer
than a head.
"She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now,
and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age"
Micropasta: So You Want a Happy EndingMicropasta: So You Want a Happy Ending
Well, here you are. Your friends are dead, and the best you can hope at this point is that they won’t come back as something far worse. You yourself are bound and gagged in the “abandoned” house’s attic. The family of vampires that lived here evidently didn’t take it too kindly when your lot decided to camp out here. Why they are saving you instead of letting you join your fellows in blissful abyss is a mystery. Perhaps it is a form of psychological torture. After all, whatever they are planning can’t be as horrific as what your mind can fathom.
And it is at this juncture, whilst your mind is working overdrive coming up with new realities, that you come to a startling, if pleasant, realization. Since you are a character in a story, as evidenced by the fact that your life is being conveyed by words on a computer monitor, none of this is real. And you can change things to your liking simply through the whims of th
Academy StorylineSix years ago, a sixteen-year-old boy dreaming of adventure and exploration stumbled upon an empty academy. The dark magic pulsing through the air pulled him in, and he discovered a library full of strange, forbidden texts of deadly and vicious spells.
The halls of the academy's grand castle echoed with silence, and not a single footfall--except his own--marred the snow steadily falling. The buildings surrounding the castle and library were all locked, and though he had the ability to shift under doors, he found himself unable to pass through their gates. All he could do was peek into windows into dark, dust-covered rooms, and wonder how it is this place became abandoned.
One by one, the boy's friends followed him to the academy, and as they appeared on campus, the place slowly started to come alive. Ancient bulbs lit, bathing dark hallways in their glow, though an evil force hinted its presence through flickering lights and sensations of unease.
The buildings surrounding the aca
Dipper Goes To Taco Bell - Commentary
MOTHER-OF-A-FUCKING WARNING, THIS FANFIC IS EXTREMELY DISGUSTING, HAS NECROPHILIA PEDOPHILIA GORE SHIT CUM SEXUAL THEMES AND A LOT MORE, THIS MAY ALSO AFFECT YOUR LOVE FOR TACO BELL AND GRAVITY FALLS
Viewer Discretion is advised
Dipper goes to Taco Bell Here we fucking go
It was a normal day in Gravity Falls, Oregon. Well, as normal as Gravity Falls gets, anyways. Dipper Pines was reading his book, and Mabel, his twin sister, was wondering what he was doing. Mabel pay attention he's reading a book
"Dipper, are you gonna keep your nose buired in that strange book of yours all summer? You gotta go out, have an adventure!" Mabel exclamd. EXCLAMD
"Not now," Dipper said quietly. "I'm trying to decode this."
He was looking at a cryptogram that said, "XSLFA QBE QXZL YBII". They must be quoting someone satanically Dipper was offically stumped. He could not figure out what it meant. And it seemd very mysterious to him. H A I L S A T A N
pupillaeIt was only two months ago when you had the procedure. You can no longer remember why. You know only that you must have liked the idea of your eyes tasting shapes. You had money. Maybe that was all the reason there ever was.
For a month, your life was normal. Your brain was still learning to process the new input. Sometimes you would vaguely taste oranges when sitting at your computer. Or catch yourself thinking that the letter O seemed sour. Or avoid a restaurant that served food on oval plates, because some ovals taste like bad coffee.
You can't pinpoint the day you first spent over an hour staring at squares. You had not meant to. It was just, they tasted kind of like cake, but like a better cake than any you'd ever had. It was hard to pull away.
Nor can you pinpoint the day you first threw up at the sight of a 32º angle. It tasted like urine and skunk. You are today afraid you will encounter another
The Boulevard at LastThe boulevard at last, we have finally made it through the city; our salvation lies ahead. I think we are safe for the moment. At least, we are as safe as we can be in this plagued nightmare. We should stop and rest; there are no signs of those beasts anywhere and we will need all of our energy to make it out of the city. If my calculations are correct, we have about two miles until we hit the bridge and nine miles to our sanctuary.
We do not have long though. Our pheromones make us tempting entrées out here in the open. I still cannot believe how the immunization has mutated; it never should have caused this type of reaction. I swear we are living in some type of butterfly effect. Damn, I wish I had brought a gun. Yes, these vile beasts can be can be killed at close range with a targeted blow to the head, but I would still prefer to distance myself from them. Are you about ready to move again?
Great, just in time. Look, over by the Console Energy Center, here they come. Damn, the
The Man with No Face
Ever since I was a boy, I saw him in my dreams.
He was considerably tall and towering over me, dresses in a black suit and matching tie. What his name was I never knew, but the part that puzzled me the most was the distinct lack of facial features. This man, whoever he was, whatever he was, had no face. No eyes to see or nose, nor a mouth, nor ears. He was a faceless phantom that walked the foggy grounds of my slumbering world.
The dream was recurring. This man without a face would stand before me and stare. Just stare. Hours passed, and his gaze remained fixated upon me. I could not move, and I dared not to speak. I was alone with him, and him with me, and together we watched each other in silence until I awoke.
My mother, God rest her soul, used to tell me that he was the Devil himself. She told me he comes into my dreams at night because he wants to scare me into doing bad things. I can't quite tell if the man was scary, or my mother's religious interpretation was scarier. Either wa