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of the tiny little things
is what i'm for
so here we are
the couch is comfortable
the lights are low
and you have taken off your glasses
as much as i hoped
to say you tasted like skittles
or what you mean to me:
whatever drags airplanes through the sky,
dutch tulips and digital roses
and warm warm hands
you don't taste like anything at all.
nothing except a perfect copy
of my own mouth
when I haven't drunk in a while
and the corners are sore from smiling.
we both saw it coming from miles away
foreheads, noses, then mouths together
and i couldn't help noticing
again and again
i could see your eyelashes
your hair had fallen over your face
and i fixed it, laughing
because that's what i'm for
The Old FrontierPack your bags, get your toothbrush
Find a car, find a silver cross
Throw a tarp over the windshield and we're covered
Get a road, lay it down flat
And behind us, we'll trail angel floss
So we stay over the sky and not under
It's a long, long way to whatever we want
It's an old frontier that we've never come across
And the last thing we need is to be cute and sad and lost
'Cause someone will pick us up and take us home
It's a long, long drive and we've got horses and tires
In case one breaks down and we're left on our own
Drive a MACK, drive a cloud,
Long as it gets you where you need
There's a sweet patch of road that must have once been dirt
There's a sweet patch of road
With a black-and-white candy stripe
A lovely accent to the Christmas trees and AstroTurf
It's a dark, dark tunnel, half collapsed and rolling under
And the crash of God's new thunder
Gave us heart attacks from wonder
So we've come to get away
Here in the old frontier, we'll hit the coast and build across it
PartnersLast night, it was snowing doves
And I dragged you outside and
You caught one on your tongue
I beamed at you with pride and
You spat it out again
Too many dirty feathers and
Clawing feet, you said
One of these days I'll get you to smile
You will be my partner in crime
And I'll act like a child
Let's be the mismatched cop-movie pair
And I'll drag to down to my level, I swear
One of these days, ah
Last night, it was raining down
Something tiny and shining
And I pulled down a cloud
To show its silver lining
Only to win a bet
We argued that same day
I said a cloud's the perfect pet
(And I bet you a dollar
The silver was its collar.)
This cloud follows you around
It's adorable and you
Still have this silly frown
Is it the rain or can't you
Just simply make it end?
It's on a leash, it loves you
Just ask, my gloomy friend
One of these days I'll get you to smile
You will be my partner in crime
And I'll act like a child
Don't lie to me, really, how's the weather up there?
We'll challenge each o
Part OneOnly the best part is over,
Only the best is to come
Try and try, I still get older
At least we had a little fun
Keep your hair on and keep it covered
Open your heart and close your lungs
There will be friends and missing lovers
High ladders, all with broken rungs
Only the worst part has left us
Only the worst is to come
We drank up our lives into blessed dust
And now we have work to be done
Only the first part is over,
Only the next is to come
Leave and we'll draw you in closer
At least we had a little fun
Make Up Your Own Damn TitleI walk along the dirt road, staring up at the sky and singing.
There's no need to watch where I'm going. I've been down this road a thousand times. I already know there's nothing there. The sky is cloudless and blue.
The dirt road stretches on for miles in front of me, carved into the side of the hill. At the bottom I can see a forest, and somewhere very far behind me is the very tiny town, and then more hills. "The fool on the hill sees the sun going down, and the eyes in his head see the world spinning 'round." I sing it. The sky is so blue.
I've gotten too used to the color. So much time staring blankly at the sky has bored a hole through the atmosphere to the truth everything is pure, liquid empty space, weighing down the world. Nothing is there. Blue is a mask. Do I know any songs from Phantom of the Opera? I can't think of one.
I walk along the road, in no hurry, swinging my paper shopping bag. It's so far to go, but I like to walk. Another successful day in
Nonogramit was -
i swear -
the craziest thing
i heard mr. goodman's voice,
talking in numbers
i couldn't follow
and i let my eyes wander and
i looked at the wrinkles
in the fleece lining
and saw letters
in the random puckering
in the only language
neat and wiggled
i could barely make out almost-words
like the fleece
was giving me
but i blinked and
the blobs came back
and it was all numbers
i may never be
a scientist but
i have to admire
MademoisellePretty girl, draw out the white
Draw out the green and rip the seam
Stay the razor, peace is coming
Peace is coming fast
He's not a martyr any more
Than those dying in the streets
Will you be around to mourn?
Mademoiselle, you're going to hell
Make sure your last word is sweet
Wet and red and with a scream,
Your country is reborn
Ribbon girl in a ribbon hat
Ignore the blood that stains the bath
Tell the people, peace is coming
Peace is coming fast
Don't expect a protected, wailing chorus
Mademoiselle, if they want peace
What they need is someone working for it.
The Precocious Reverse Career Test1. Would you consider yourself a people person?
b. The RIGHT kind of people.
d. Oh GOD no.
2. Are you comfortable with the sight of blood?
b. Well, if it's for a good cause
c. Ew, no.
d. More than I should probably say.
3. Can you keep a secret?
a. Never needed to.
c. Yes, very well.
d. Why? Who have you been talking to? What do you know?!
4. How do you respond to peer pressure?
a. I START peer pressure.
b. FIGHT THE POWER
c. Go with the flow. Hey, you can always blame it on someone else.
5. Did you grow up around other families?
a. Just a few.
d. I actually don't remember.
6. Would you shoot the hostage to get to the bad guy?
a. Depends on the situation.
b. Yes, anything to bring justice.
c. I'm not THAT heartless.
d. Wait bad?
7. Have you given up hope for your future?
a. What? No! I'm going to be huge.
b. I wouldn't tell a stranger anyway.
c. Uhhhh yes.
Creepypasta: It Never EndsCreepypasta: It Never Ends
I ask you a question, what is right and what is wrong? You might say something like murder is wrong, and dying for a just cause is right. But in the end, how are the two different? They each involve death. Which brings me to my main point: all life depends upon the ending of another’s to exist. Even humans must eat plants and usually animals, and in some odd cases other humans as well. Life could best be portrayed as an endless staircase, constantly turning back in on itself in a quantum Mobius strip. Remember that all life exists solely because it caused another life pain at some point, which in turn had inflicted pain to life before it. That is a central theme in the story I will tell you.
First, proper introductions are in order. I am Sin, with a capital S. I could best be described as the abstract concept of violating the natural order that we call sin, given sentience and a semblance of form. I make my presence felt every day in the life of every m
innocencelast night, i dreamt the devil
tried to slaughter me with a
train. the tracks began at the
back hall and ended at the front
door, pouring outside. how these
things appeared in my home, i cannot
he was not the caricature you may be
imagining; oh, no. he was perhaps
as old as the boy who died this winter,
roughly twenty five summers. ebony
curls sat wickedly on his ears, and his
eyes were two lumps of coal and fire,
sharp enough to paralyze.
i locked him in the garden, eventually.
he found a way back in, of course
(being the devil must have perks).
i retrieved the pocket knife the colour
of motor oil from my nightstand
and stabbed him three times, in the belly.
he bled out all over, staining the picture
frame, the carpet, the wallpaper. i imagined
it was sin, not blood; that i was healing, not
but it was blood; he was human, after all.
as they took him away to the hospital, i watched
him grimace in pain. guilt seeped through my
skin like coffee th
Creepypasta: Mirror, MirrorCreepypasta: Mirror, Mirror
Humans are vain, self-absorbed creatures. If I, once a trusted angel and now a Daemon of myth, am aware of that, then surely they know it on at least some basic level too. My eventual corruption and fall from grace should come as no surprise; I suspect Adonai himself always had his doubts in my purity. I am after all in a prime position to see them at their most selfish and otiose as well. You see, I am a shapeshifter who dwells in the space between the mirror and the reflection.
In my newfound role I stalk my chosen victim through the reflective surfaces in his or her abode. I imitate their every movement as they preen in front of my chosen mirror. I look on from the polished surface with disgust as they bitch and moan under their breath about first-world problems. And just when I can’t stand them any longer, that is when I start to have my fun.
I begin to purposely put flaws in my imitation, and as they look at me thinking they see their own reflecti
MonsterSince you were a child
you have been checking your wardrobes and under your beds for monsters
But what you don't know that there already is a monster in your life
Always following you
Always with you
Until you die
I guess you don't know what I'm talking about right now
We humans forget that there's a monster inside all of us
Locked in a cage in your head
For the right moment for you to snap and break open the cage for it so it can take control
That monster is our insanity
A raging beast that is inside of us all
But one day cage will break
And the beast will be released for it to rampage
Because I askedThe fingers were now black, stained with blood. I sighed as I curled them back into a fist. I’m inside The Black Forest Asylum, hiding in one of the many janitorial closets. My arm’s bleeding profusely, due to its recently impaling, thanks to the demonic little girl I just met a couple of minutes ago. I place my hand back on the wound, trying to apply pressure.
Why? Just why? Why can’t I have an easy day? Just once!
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” I hear the girl’s playful, yet sadistic, voice.
I groan, Please…give me five minutes! I keep quiet, hoping that maybe she’ll walk past the room where the closet I’m currently hiding is in, but I already know that’s asking for too much.
I hear the door open shortly followed by footsteps, enter the room. I hold my breath, trying my best not to make a sound. As I do, I silently curse The Sender for bringing me here.
“I can smell your fear…” I hear
Creepypasta: LogicLara sat upside down on the sofa. Her long, curly black hair was hanging down, brushing up against the hardwood floor.
“Lara, your mom doesn’t like you sitting like that.” Her father said, looking up from his book.
Lara had to struggle to get to a normal position. She wasn’t quite used to missing half of her left arm yet. “So…” She started, shifting on the leather couch to find a comfortable position. “When is she going to get here?” Lara’s mom had left to pick up a new child. Literally. After the long and tedious adoption process, it was time to pick her up.
“Should be soon…” He replied, glancing down at his watch. “Remember what we told you. Don’t-“
“-ask about the scar. I’m nine, I remember things Daddy.”
The bolt lock on the front door clicked and the door swung open. “I don’t want you see you tracking dirt in the house- I’ve heard you’re pretty
The Virtual Reality Experiment A few years before the time this writing took place, there was an experiment to see if a phenomenal invention could potentially revolutionize the world of video games forever.
The invention was a virtual reality console that would actually put eager players into the game so they could vividly experience it instead of just play it. It sounded like something from Science Fiction, but the developers had spent years building it.
The console was to be called the “Immersion”, and it would have instantly made every other console obsolete. It wasn’t like the kind of system where you have to wear a visor over your eyes like the Oculus Rift and still hold a controller. It would have generated an entire virtual world unlike any other before it for players to explore. The game would generate sounds, smells, sights, even a temperature. Once the gamer began playing, it was as if they had stepped into another world for an
Creepypasta: Pretty Little ThingsCreepypasta: Pretty Little Things
Isn’t it funny how the things that tickle our imaginations as children seem terrifying in perspective when we grow, and vice versa? Even time itself, which seems naught but a blessing to a child, appears increasingly ravaging and crippling to an adult through its bastard offspring, “age”. Eventually it is so akin to the grim specter of Death itself that it turns our bones to ash and, except in extraordinary cases, erases all memory we ever lived. But I am above such things. I have lived for all times and for all ages, and all because of Theresa.
Theresa is a doll of the porcelain variety, although that is like saying that the revolver which was used to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand and kicked off World War I was .32 in calibre. What I’m trying to say is that just thinking of Theresa as a doll is to miss the underlying subtext of what she represents. To illustrate my point, I found Theresa in my bathtub when I was filling it wit
CreepyPasta/ can you see them?Close your eyes. Can you see them? Count yourself lucky if you don’t know what I’m talking about.
Ever since I was little, I could see “things”. No, I’m not crazy, or a schizophrenic. It’s kind of hard to explain, but when I close my eyes, I see them. Them, being what I call, “bits”. I call them bits because they’re just bits and pieces. They haunt me. Torture me. I’ll tell you about them, if you let me.
When I was a child, I had a very wild imagination. Being that I would easily scare myself into thinking there was a monster under my bed. I would imagine the most fucked up things, and they would plague my mind until I couldn’t stay awake any longer. I wouldn’t say that this is the result of what’s happening to me now, but it does have something to do with it.
Anyway, I would see things when I closed my eyes. The bits… they’re kinda… scary… I guess. If you could call a darkened
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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