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MaturityGrowing up means growing down,
deeper into the earth
until we are six feet under.
Maturity is not a badge of honour,
because the gleaming golden trophy belongs to those who will
punch and kick and undercut,
while the mature must settle for quietly consoling themselves
in their celebrated capacity for emotional abuse.
Perhaps we should be proud of our blank name,
Our battered and broken selves,
tucked neatly away into unacceptably present bodies.
And yet nothing can heal that,
the most crushing of loneliness
when one is wrested from the label under which
they once took solace.
Call me barbaric
Call me overlarge
Call me the unwanted moss on an otherwise manicured tree
But never call me yours.
I am mine,
but never tamed.
DarkI don’t want to be alone
I don’t want to be with them
Can I stay here in the dark?
Can the silence be my friend?
Tell me what I’ve got to lose
Tell me why I need to try
If there’s nothing going on
Can’t I let the days pass by?
With the lights out there is peace
There is warmth and there is calm
There is nothing else outside
Here I know I’ll carry on
Maybe I should move along
Blaze a trail and make my mark
But if nothing is worthwhile
Can’t I stay here in the dark?
BodiesI see you've discovered our plan. No matter. I'm sure once you learn to see things from our perspective, you'll understand. You'll embrace our glorious future.
It's no secret; Our economy, our society, our culture. We are in decline. And look at our competitors. India. China. Brazil. Places where labour is cheap because life is disposable. It's a race to the bottom, a brilliant machine oiled by a never-ending flow of bodies. Of course, for that, we need more people here. More lives. More bodies.
We have done what we can. We've made sex into a mandatory staple of youth culture. We've placed many forms of birth control out of reach of the common peasant and halted sex education to ensure the minimum possible knowledge of the reproduction process. We're working on banning abortions too. We've even forced gay people to live as though they were straight, shoehorning them into babymaking rel
Attack of the Notorious Ninja BunniesThe world was now at the mercy of the notorious ninja bunnies. What had started innocently enough as a series of experiments in genetic mutation and Japanese pop culture was fast becoming a danger that threatened to take down modern society. I, for one, am thrilled.
I mean, really, does anybody actually like modern society? It's just one big rat race with a side of popularity contest and a generous dash of pollution for good measure. I say, welcome, ninja bunny apocalypse. Still... Still, it is always wise to have a back-up plan.
That is why we at Kaiju Tech Labs designed the ultimate battle machine in ninja bunny warfare. Let's see those cotton-tailed, carrot-munching, shuriken-throwing little buggers hop within a mile of this city. They've got no chance so long as we have Super Ultra Hyper Mega Tech Giant Flying Octopus (TM) on our side. Boo yeah!
But, alas and alack, Super Ultra Hyper Mega Tech Giant Flying Octopus (TM) was not
The Night Prince - Chapter 31Chapter Thirty One
In Which Lucia Finally Meets Princess Evangeline
As Lucia and Julian made their way back to the mansion, Lucia dared not look any of the townspeople in the eye. She focused on the rhythmic crunching of the gravel beneath her feet and tried to match her cadence with Julian’s. The prince walked at a pace that was a little slower than Lucia’s, although he seemed determined to stay just a little bit ahead of her. In any case, Lucia was careful not to stray far, because she dared not risk that the townspeople might think she was out alone. Too many people knew her face – and knew too little else.
They crunched their way down the path, footsteps noisy and voices silent. Soon, they reached the front of the mansion. Julian gave a fleeting glimpse in Lucia’s direction to ensure that she was still there. Lucia pretended to be in a distant reverie, staring at the leafless trees and light grey sky. In
Back To The Drawing BoardWhat I need now is not a distraction
Ideas with traction
These worlds I created, they’re stagnant
I’ve failed and it kills me
My heart’s getting restless
My mind’s getting sick
Broken fingernails, bloodstains,
Just seeing what sticks
I know I’m not important
Just another disease
Just a fat splat of carbon
In the vast human seas
Used to think I was special
I thought I could achieve
Something this world might need
But it all fell apart again
It all went ignored
“So we meet again, my old friend”
says the drawing board
Over and over
We search through the factual
For something spectacular
Even if it is nothing but the hopeful flicker
That as my days grow shorter and my mind gets sicker
I might have found something
Just one thing
Just ONE thing
Through all of this hunting
The Night Prince - Chapter 30Chapter Thirty
In Which Lucia And Thomas Are Set Free From Prison
The sound filled the dank air of the jail, flooding down the hallway and rushing into the cell. Lucia was quite sure she heard two distinct sets of footprints. William the jailer caused the same heavy footfalls as before. Along with his steps came the sound of the metal keys, knocking together like ominous wind chimes. However, when Lucia listened closely, she heard a second set of lighter footsteps following William an instant later. They seemed to have the weight of a man yet the stealth of a cat. The sounds’ echoing off the stone walls made it difficult to determine much else.
The steps fell silent as William marched into view and stopped in front of their jail cell. His burlap clothing bore no pattern, and yet it appeared to be striped when Lucia looked at him through the iron bars. William stood there a moment, lazily staring at his prisoners. He abs
The Night Prince - Chapter 29Chapter Twenty Nine
In Which Lucia Learns Something Interesting From Thomas
The cold, hard jail cell offered little but silence. Through the iron bars, Lucia stared morosely at the wall opposite the cell. The sun, which had previously been visible through the thin slits that stood in for windows, had since arched out of view. As she guessed at the late hour, a knot formed in Lucia’s stomach. Poor John might think she had run off for good. Or, worse, Claudette might think she was lazing around idly somewhere, and would take it out on John and maybe even poor Margaret.
Margaret. Was anyone tending to her? If it was up to John to take care of the mansion itself, he could not possibly have time to talk to Margaret or bring her tea or fix her blankets. Lucia thought back to John’s previous defiance of Claudette’s demands and wondered if there would be anything but fighting happening in the mansion at all.
The Night Prince - Chapter 28Chapter Twenty Eight
In Which Something Terrible Happens To Lucia And Thomas
Lucia burst through the apothecary's front door so fast that the shop bell's ring sounded more like a high-pitched thud. Breathless, she fell against the inside of the door and leaned against it with all her might.
Looking briefly in Lucia's direction, the apothecary nodded, and then just soon returned to what he was doing. He climbed up on the stool once more and began to rummage around in the upper shelves. Scarcely looking, he extended one long arm out to where he had left his hat. He grasped it between two fingers, brought it up to his head, and dropped it on top. It fell lopsided, or at least more lopsided than it looked before, and threatened to slide off his glossy brown hair.
A moment passed. Lucia sunk to the floor and caught her breath. From somewhere up on the highest shelves, glass bottles tinkled as they knocked against one another. The apothe
IciclesWarm, soft air,
Breath as a ghost on the breeze
condensing into a fine mist,
Dancing bitter pirouettes
and whispering silken omens,
as petals in the snow.
Cold, hard earth,
Crunching miniature cities
with a single, gentle footfall,
Loping, silent, singing
liquid silver racing,
Urgent, fateful missions
as glacial rivers flow.
Delicate, crystal bells,
Delightful, intricate daggers
deceiving battered flesh,
Garnished, bruised, marked
fantastic rainbow shades,
Radiating fractures leak
as veins of shattered pearl.
Harsh, rasping nails,
Driving blizzards shrieking
blue, murderous claws,
Acute fangs clenching
against blasphemous vows,
Fall to the depths
of ostracised perdition.
Trying to HuntThere was a tear sometime into winter
It was deep onyx and browbeaten
Bleeding murk that grayed the snow,
In an unknown portion of the cedars;
Cold filled the sandwich up with slime.
“Time” said Rex, “the seer of all things
has found you out.” (Trudging went the boots)
Winter looked soft but wetly it chaffed, it made
One’s feet miserable; the gun kept slipping
And the jacket decided to forgo its warmth.
There was no grand effulgence amongst the Ether,
There was no “I” in the clouds; what was one hunting?
Geese they flew in an echelon that burned in white
Every year feeling it out, knowing better; ‘they must feel
Love? They bond for life;’ no “I” was in the cloud.
Horrible is a truth that one can find, reflected in
A swath of nature, there is no help in the hollows
Or the brooks, no solace when blood is in one’s ears
Consciousness buzzed along, and breath labored;
One listened to the heartbeat atop the clinkin
midnight aches and inside strangersevery night
I wake up to strangers
(No, it's not what you think.
These aren't one-
or tequila lungs
They're the oaths
kept in the
depths of my
of the fears
the dearest dreams
slithering my spine]
these are the cups
in my sorrows
in the riverbed
of a throat
from the vine garden
they found a way
They are the ones
in my blood
shuddering my bones
There's no fright.
folded like a contortionist
in my chest
while the moon
my sky's pendant,
and just listens.
What if the sky had feelings
And it's clouds were its face
If it rained, it was sad
It it was clear, she was glad
If it was dark and stormy, she was mad
But I wait everyday
For it to one day just snow
Eventually it would snow on a grey sky
The sky was exceptionally sad today
It was winter and no one liked the cold
She felt lonely and empty
And kept her clouds just as grey almost everyday
Because no one seemed to care anymore like they used too
One day she thought maybe it was time to wake up
Maybe bring in something beautiful she recently created
It started snowing, scared that no one would think it was beautiful
It was just a light snowfall
She was wrong, the light ice crystals that fell from the sky pleased many
Finally, she felt welcomed by the fellow people
And her heart had felt warm and less alone
She smiled in the winter
Because she felt accepted
(In general I enjoy winter, yes it's quite lonely and well that's me xD but I think it's a beautiful season, don't judge it by
SeasonsH-hi my name is Spring..
people like call me Shy a lot..
im the most calm of all 4..
normally I hate to talk but,
ill bring in a little chat..
sometimes if im not making my drizzle entrance,
ill put up a kite in the breezy sky..
its very peaceful during my time,
maybe even putting some freshly new flowers
while wearing my green wispy dress.
even though me and autumn don't have a lot of time,
ill make sure nature will show who i really am by then..
Hello! The name's Summer!
people love to call me outgoing!
I'm the pretty radical season here guys.
haha yo im not afraid of others,
so I ain't worried of chatting with folks!
ill bring in my sizzling heat entrance (whoops!)
with a friendly atmosphere during my period!
eh ill just put on my Muse hat + sunglasses
along with my epic shirt n' pants
luckily me and winter last for a while
so hopefully the heat and fun will help shows me off!..
*Sigh* oh sorry, im Autumn
the complaining folks calle
winterIt is 21 degrees Fahrenheit outside
and the air shudders in its icy grip:
pine needles frosted in fairy dust
and breath lost in the elegance of silver spiderwebs.
Ice, white and black, coats sidewalks,
sliding dogs' paws out from under their owners
and disappointing children in its solidity;
ponds drip like spoiled milk onto the pelts
of voles burrowed in their homes for the winter.
Harrowed birds flutter and squabble
over the remainder of seeds lost
under a bench by the rats' nest.
They wheel and peck above summer-flung stones
hurled on a day when a different kind of pond froze.
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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