Crimson Vengeance for CreepieMonetThe light browns of the Morrocan village once stirred the villagers' hearts; they loved their small town, they loved knowing everyone who lived nearby, but that had all changed
One night was all it took to rip out the peace and replace it with terror; one night of bloodlust flowing through the town; grown men were reduced to their knees; respected elders were reduced to the common rabble. Everyone in Asilah fell to the very ground they made their livelihoods on, and all because one man chose one town to run down.
Children and elderly rushed about the streets, seeking hiding places. Women and wives carried buckets of water to burning huts. Grown men planned an offensive, but nothing they did would work; they faced a mad man; a man who had lost all hope for his world, and instead turned to murder; he turned to rape. Any young girl that crossed his path became violated; a baker's daughter fell to her knees in front of the man; her hair a mess and her face splattered faintly in blood
Commission: Spoils of a Treasure HunterThe pizzeria had the finest take on synthesising the perfect Supreme pizza; the capsicum sat atop a bed of thinly sliced ham, and the pineapple rested in amongst the olive fragments. Øyvind Herstad considered it a marvelous indulgence; the perfect requisite for his next great treasure hunt with his delectably gorgeous companions Kaitlyn and Kara Walker.
"Ah yes girls" He spoke intelligently, although not so much the words, as the way he portrayed them across the thin, cool air "Another heist completed, another trophy to add to your walls. It is time however, for us to begin again. I've heard rumour of a treasure crypt in Greece; rumours tell of great fortune befitting a conquering knight. This is where we will head to next."
Kara smiled and glanced around the room, her long brown and white striped hair flowing over her shoulders. The drink in her hand remained still and unnerved as she examined the pizzeria.
"I've heard of this crypt" she spoke quietly, "I've heard t
The Truth Is Hard"Like a rock" she said,
Eyes glinting in the sun,
Shining in their purity,
Blink; then continue;
"Like a brick; like a bone,
Like the urge of a soldier,
trying to go home".
"Like the pain of what was,
And what is still to come"
In grief, she bowed her head;
With grief she became numb.
"You see, I lost the one I loved;
I don't know what to do,
I told him that I would change,
He said "It's me, it isn't you."
"Yet overtime I came to learn,
That what he said was false"
With tears she fell onto the ground,
Filled with dread and dark remorse.
"I would rather have lived with his lies,
Than to know what I learned today,
Because "It's not you" was a lie,
Just like my "I'm okay"".
"The truth is hard" I said to her,
And reassured her thus;
"But although he didn't count on it,
We're not you, we're us"
"We'll stick together; I'll help you through,
Get you back onto your feet;
You're not a victim; you're victorious,
And he, we will defeat."
Waiting Silently in a Tattered Rocking ChairSilence.
She sat in complete silence.
Outside the dull, grey walls of her twelfth-story apartment, the world moved endlessly, noisily.
But to her, there was silence. Complete silence.
A ceiling fan rotated slowly above her; a fly lay dead on the window sill beside her; the festering corpse of a mouse lay putridly on the carpet in the corner of the hot, humid room across from her.
Yet, she sat in silence.
The window was home to a single potted plant; a small green sapling growing hesitantly out into the ever-putrid air of the apartment. It's dish had long-since cracked in the heat, and rot where the water leaks through had slowly begun to develop.
A child's watering can, no bigger than her palm, rested - a faded red - on a table beside the window. The plastic bubbled in the heat; large bulbous growths protruded from its surface.
The spout rarely let out more than a few drops nowadays.
Back in its days - back when old Mrs. Adalai was young - the pot plant was large and vibrant. The apart
Odyssey into 2012 Chapter 1The glare of the first gate blinds her momentarily; her memories flooded with a luminescence overpowering. She can't remember who she is, or why she's here.
She is oblivious to herself and the world around her; all she knows is the gate and the surrounding darkness. Hesitantly, she steps through, and is blinded again by a bright white glare.
Slowly the glare dies down as her eyes adjust. She can see clearly now; both the gate and her memory. She had traveled a long way to be here, to open this gate. She had travelled across the galaxy in the blink of an eye, she had opened a portal through time and space, and she had climbed through it. A portal in her mind, and it was such a portal that she could grant herself this omnipresence.
Her people were the Skylarks, and they knew her as a Gatekeeper; they recognised her unique abilities as mirroring those of the ancients. She was the remnant of a past long forgotten
She arrived in a city overrun by smog and giant grey buildings. "Is thi
Almost in ComatoseYou wake.
Head swimming, eyes glazed over,
Throat red and swollen.
You throw a leg,
Misjudging the distance,
Between bed and floor.
Heavily onto the tatty carpet,
Unfocused eyes misguiding you.
Your body folds upwards,
Hands and feet together,
Ass in the air.
You can't get a grip,
You fall again.
This time you stay there,
You poor, poor baby.
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.
I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:
"Why is it that you find life to be worth living?"
Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?
To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.
Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,
Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,
And yet you lie awake.
Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...
Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.
Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,
And genuinely fear for your safety?
Now, if it were me that you had asked my dear,
I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.
At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.
That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...
But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
Bully You're ugly.
You'll never amount to anything.
No one will ever like you.
If you think he'll stay, you're mistaken.
You have no friends.
People hate you.
You are a freak.
You have no place here.
You are nothing more than a coward who
is too afraid to step outside half the time.
Your face is like something from a horror movie.
No one will ever truly fall in love with you.
Guys want girls that are beautiful and face it,
you are considered everything but that.
Hide behind your hair dye because you want to
feign like you don't care.
But inside the cruel eyes of others burn holes into
You will never amount to anything.
The only thing you will ever be good for
is cleaning up dog shit.
You will never be good enough.
Why bother even dreaming?
How can you consider the possibility of love
when everything you do, the way you look, walk,
talk, move, think, can only ever be seen as
Not only is the outside hideous;
the inside is no better.
Why do you think you've
Stripping MeYou may take what you want from me,
Be it my pride or dignity.
You may throw insults at me,
And burn the shredded pieces of my sanity.
You may belittle me, as much as you want,
If only to make your meager life worth living.
But even if you do all that...
No one will protect you when I pull you into the dark.
No one will try to search for you, as my leather ropes tie you down.
No one will hear your screams as metallic screws drive into your face,
Etching an eternal smile, since you'll never leave this place...
"Now then, my dear sweet James, shall we play our favourite game?"
We Only Live To DieThis is what we live for—these whispers on our lips
The drying bits of blood on our paper-cut fingertips
Opening the letters that we left our future selves
A bittersweet reminder of those storybooks on the shelves
This is what we live for – this emotion in our souls
The torture and the bittersweet moments of lost control
Biting cracked lips with the dirt beneath our nails
These moments of imperfection as our trains of thought derail
This is what we live for – shutting doors and opening eyes
Smiling for a moment, before the tears reveal our lies
This is what we live for, this reality, this life…
This is what we live for,
As we only live
Past Tense BluesWases
So are weres;
And it's the becauses
That make them feel
That much worse.
You're Going to be Okay.It’s not your fault.
It’s not what you deserve.
Don’t think that way,
Because one day,
This won’t matter anyways.
Keep your head held high for now,
I know it hurts,
Words can feel suffocating.
As you feel like your lungs are collapsing,
Under the weight of the pain,
In your chest.
I know it stings,
And it seems like it takes forever for the bell to ring.
As you count down the hours.
But it doesn’t matter.
When you just go home,
To sit in your room alone.
Because words unlike bruises don’t go away.
Once they are said they are here to stay.
And silence is excruciating.
But being in a crowd of violent stares,
Is no better.
So where do you go?
Is the question you’ll never know.
But don’t give up just yet!
Things will not always be like this.
Yes, today seems hopeless.
Tomorrow seems worse.
One more day of hearing another hateful word.
Might make your head explode,
And sometimes you want to drive yourself completely off the road.
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-
could only hurt
anyone who got
she held what
You have to know pain to....Sometimes you have to fall apart.
You have to bleed out,
In order to have the courage to shout.
Against the darkness.
You have to know what it's like,
To feel disconnected,
To be best friends with your anxiety,
Because it's the only thing to keep you company.
Because you've never felt so lonely.
Even though you're surrounded in a sea of noise,
Which drowns out your voice.
As you choke,
On society's noose
You're afraid to cut it loose.
Because you don't know what others will think of you.
You have to know depression.
You have to know what it's like to be alone.
You have to know what it's like to be silenced.
In order to appreciate breathing,
And to fall in love with colors.
After being blind,
For all of that time.
And only being able to see memories,
In order to appreciate a person's presence.
And the feeling,
When you finally find a friend.
Who will stick with you until the end.
And not judge you for your scars.
But loves who you are.
RapeI am a seventeen year old boy
I have determination in my bright blue orbs.
My smile can calm even the strongest tempest.
My friends are nothing short of amazing,
and my family...well, they are some of the most
supportive people I have in my life.
I'm going to make it big. Have a family,
live in a big house.
I'm going to marry my princess, have money
I'll be happy.
And my children will look up to me,
so will my wife. I'll protect them,
I'll be their role model.
I'll be the grandpa my grand kids love.
I'll live a long life, until it's time for me to go.
And even then, I'll be smiling down, not ready
to really depart from happiness.
I'm a seventeen year old boy,
and my tears stain my ruffled jacket.
I can't smile like I used to, but I try.
But I'm still so lonesome.
Where were the friends that understood me?
Where was the family that supported me?
They try, but I can't let them in.
My future crumbles, my wife vanishes,
my children...their children, drown in the