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Odyssey into 2012: Ch. 1In the heavy light of the sun, she stood, holding paper in her hands. Her fingers twitched as she read the words. "Tokyo." "Zephyr." And this calendar, its boxes, its days, were like little portals into unknown worlds. She looked up from the parchment, feathery between her fingertips, and saw the open gate before her. It was tall, mighty, intimidating. The girl's dark hair was like a million long ribbons, and her young eyes, screaming out the will of her innocent soul with their blue, stared. Her grip on the papers loosened, and like a frightened gasp, a gust carried them away. They danced through the gate before her. The girl dashed through the gate's mouth, desperate to retrieve the priceless information. She ran, but the wind quickened, and her only memory flew faster and faster away from her. Beyond the gate, there were many tall, green trees. There were ruins of some ancient city strewn about, like dismembered limbs, like memories. She could smell the trees and dirt, and for just
Paper Cuts and GuillotinesPaper Cuts and GuillotinesAABC11-28-113 stanzaspaper cuts and guillotinesbuild up skin behind the screens.these ancient shoulders of mineare alien, quiet, and raw.copper wires and submarines;drink the sickness, no vaccines.inside my head are entanglementslike accumulation rising high.behind our eyes, we're all machines.obliteration. smithereens.divots in the fields of our brainshouse monsters that make us real.
RancorousRancorousblank/free11-23-117 stanzasunder cloaks of delusional thought,i hate you.your slashing quips to passive wordsand your uncaring, unappreciative pretentiousnessleave me feeling unwell.and shuffling inside the muscle of my tongueare screamsleaping and scratching their way to your ears.you want only what will keep you satisfied,and it's disgusting.my Obsessive begs me to yearn forever:sob for the past.i feel a tug at my skin to miss the subtle piecesof paper i recall slathered to your bedroom wallslike orbiting planets.buried within the silence of my gum-chewing mouth,i abhor you.your voice stings my ears like a mosquito's barrageof alarming sirens on a copper-toned summer eve.my mind itches.and meandering through the wires in there,are creatureswith half-severed limbs tied up in frayed ends of ropes.they're all painfully gushing themselves into rindsjust for you.my Destructive shoves me to the edge of disaster:die for the past.i want to drag
SCATTER novelette wipScatter - The Chronicles of NevrakPrologue - The Sunny Side of TruthI am Kevada and I was born long after that seemingly insignificant Human War had begun to tear apart the vastly unknown World of the Past. I remember my father, the former Alpha of the Nevrak pack, often telling my two brothers and I these amazing and fantastic stories of the Great Journey to the Nevrak Territory and of the very strange and confusing human species. At first, I would laugh at him when he explained that humans only walked on two legs and had no tails. The human species, to most of us, was like a creature that one would only see in fantastical stories and myth. Only the elders, seeming like they were minutes from death, had ever actually seen a human. I had never seen a human before, and never would.On many peaceful, warm days, my father had told my two brothers and I of what it was like during the Great Journey from the Human Land. He loved talking about that. He oftentimes sa
Not Here - old poemNot Hereblank/free5-5-0823 stanzasi'm not herethe teacher speaksbut i don't hear wordsmarks on the whiteboardbehind me someone laughsignore it and focus on nothing'do the math' she saysbut i don't understandwhat you want me to writei don't know why butmy tired mind, so wearyisn't where it should bethis room is cold withthose memories i keepit'll never be the samethe drowsy days are painfulthe nights are too shorti need some real sleepa fiery feeling, burning like stray paperi'm still determined but is itreally worth all this heartache?just sitting here so lonelyas the light switch is flippedi'm awake enough to noticea call for attention, no one caresi see colorful shapes on the wallit's not worth looking closer atall i'm thinking of, all i canis my bruising heart and ifit can ever heal for me againmath and numbers, 1, 2, 3, 4could they somehow be symbolic?maybe, possibly, nothe walls are pale, a glossy whitei feel like going home nowthe doo