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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.
Jeff the Killer x psycho! Reader - part 1
A Lullaby wears White - part 1
Jeff was always confident about his procedures. Mainly because he was always winning. He always got the same result in different variations – bloodbath, screams of his victims satisfying his ears, fear in their eyes moisten his and the blood's iron on his tongue. He always had it all and sometimes, in the case of females, the satisfaction of his mad hormones.
He was swift and did the business quick enough before the cops could arrive, yet slow enough to enjoy it. He considered himself elusive, invincible...
Yet if somebody asked him if the same thing he does to people would happen to him, he'd certainly laugh in their faces in that insane way only he knows how to preform. Just that situation happened before his next kill. Him and one of his rare friends, Eyeless Jack, sat on the peak of small mountain above the city, lights looking just like mirror image of the stars above.
Jeff lit the cigarette, small orange light dancing across h
The (Creepypasta) You lie on your bed, huddled under the covers with a fresh book from the library. Your eyes feel somewhat droopy but you are reluctant to put it down, the story too enticing to pause so you can sleep. It’s nearing the end anyway, you reason silently; not even thirty pages to go. Might as well finish it now.
Your eyes skim over the paragraphs, fighting to stay awake.
“She stares at him furiously, blinking back tears as she wills herself not to cry, to show The terror he so deeply craves.”
You pause. “To show The terror”? You look back, thinking you’d spotted a minor capitalization error, but now “the” is lowercase. Strange, you think. Usually you don’t even really notice things like that, but you figure it’s just because you’re so tired and pay it no mind as you continue.
Jeff the Killer x psycho! Reader - part 2
A Lullaby wears White - part 2
When Jeff next woke up, he felt a horrible pain in the back of his neck and down the back. After his vision crystallized, he realized his head was bent over. Even bigger pain greeted him after he straightened himself up, gritting his teeth hardly. The next thing he realized was his current position – he was sitting.
The itching in his eyes reminded him to take eye drops. He tried to move, to stretch his hands and legs before taking them, but something blocked that action. As he tried again with no avail, he became suspicious.
Then he looked.
He wasn't home. He wasn't even in bed. Instead, Jeff was sitting on a regular chair with iron legs. It was wooden and rather uncomfortable for sitting and he found it absolutely ironic. But the last thing he wanted to think about was irony. The state he was in was what truly bothered him. His wrists were tied against chair's armrests and his legs against chair's front legs. He struggled against
Get a ClueThere once was a man named Steve, who was hopelessly, undeniably insane.
Every day he would live his life as though he were a child in a man’s body, not quite understanding that he was alone in the big secluded house. He began to create imaginary friends in his mind as he sat in his favorite big red chair, where he spent most of his time. These imaginary friends were mostly common household things. When he woke up in the morning, he would say hello to his clock and the clock would respond. He would say hello to his drawer, and the drawer would respond. When he went out to check the empty mailbox, the mailbox would talk to him. Of course, in his mind the mailbox wasn’t empty. It was full of letters from other imaginary friends of his. Meals for Steve were always full of people to talk to. He would talk to the salt and pepper shakers, and any other seasonings that he had.
His only companion was a dog, who would often hide from him. Whenever Steve found the dog, he would grab
Hide and Seek (Lolly Dolly Creepypasta)
It was a regular day in the neighborhood. Children laughing and running about on the streets. Grown ups mowing the lawn and getting their mail as the mailman walked by. The sun was up in the sky, shining as bright as ever, with not a cloud in the sky to bug it. Yes, it was a nice summer day, a happy summer day.
Three children were chasing each other, playing tag and taunting one another. Watching them from afar was a little boy. His face emotionless and his skin quite pale compared to the others. He looked at the children and he hummed a tune that was barely even a tune due to his voice sounding so scratchy. The boy kept doing this for quite some time. The children would always ignore him, calling him a loner, a freak. The boy never cared though. Other people thought he was sick or has a disorder. His parents themselves would always worry about their son. He would never speak to them and he would always go to his room once he entered his house.
"Leo dear, dinner will be ready in ten mi
Creepypasta: Matt Bridle Silence reached my ears as I sat down the box full of my old photo albums. The house was quite bare, considering that my family and I were moving in.
We had just moved to a small town in Oregon. It was surrounded by trees for the most part, having a railway that went straight through the middle of the town. The railway was, in fact, still operating as freight trains, and cargo trains, ran through the middle of town three to four times a day.
During night though, that was a different story.
The people who ran the railways seemed to be insomniacs, as I hear the trains run all night long, only having fifteen minute intervals between trains.
My father had bought the house that was a block from the railway, so it wasn’t too noisy. My dad had decided that it would be safer to take this house, since it wasn’t too close to where the crime happened in the city.
All of the crime
Promise Me...It was the perfect opportunity. The time was set just right.
He could hear the assassin's light breathing from the other room, a shuffle of movement as he snuggled deeper into the pillows to get more comfortable.
There was a pause, and then no more movement and that signaled Malik that the man had fallen into the deepest part of sleep. For the next three hours he would not wake unless something touched him, and now Malik had his chance.
His sword was fastened to his belt, the feather lying on his desk was now being tucked into a safe place in his shirt. He rose from where he was sitting and walked out and into the room right beside his.
The man was asleep on the fluffed pillows that lay on the floor, arms curled underneath his head. His legs were bent so they ruffled the front of his robes, making the outfit look bigger on him than it really was. Lips parted just centimeters apart, it softened his face, making it look more innocent.
He...he looked like a child. The child Malik knew sin
Creepypasta: An Imperfect PanopticonCreepypasta: An Imperfect Panopticon
It had been two weeks, two days since Phillip Webber had seen the Slenderman while sequestered in his cabin in the woods. He knew what would come for him. He had heard the stories of how the faceless apparition always took those sheep who strayed to close, like the lunatic wolf it was. But Phillip was prepared. He had fortified his cabin and the surrounding woods into a veritable citadel of closed-circuit cameras and automated traps. He almost expected at first to catch glimpse of it again, given that the locale the siting had occurred at was not far from here at all. But the thing never appeared directly to those who caught its interest, not at first anyway. It always sent its paranormal proxies to do that. Its proxies, who were still human at their core. And being human they had a very human assortment of weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
Phillip took a drag from his eighth cigarette this hour and clicked the monitor display on his laptop from camer
Creepypasta: The Watch CollectorCreepypasta: The Watch Collector
Time is both a burden and a necessity. Five minutes are hellish to someone trapped in a burning bus, and dearer than anything else to a dying woman saying goodbye to her children. But mostly, time is something most people waste more than anything else in life. I have resolved not to be one of those people.
I collect watches. The others in my fair town of Alpenview like to think it is a harmless hobby, a fairly mundane one too, and I am not keen to correct them. I purchase them from the pawn shop, I buy them brand-new at the old strip mall in bulk, and sometimes people approach me and sell them to me directly. That’s just how well-known my unconventional but innocuous little hobby is known to others. Most eccentric young men my age would collect Magic the Gathering cards or My Little Pony merchandise or what-have-you, I collect watches. Nothing sinist-
Pfft. Sorry, I just couldn’t keep a straight face. I’m trying, really, I am. But when
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