bottled up at the bottom of
the ocean
is the wing-beaten
downtrodden boy
looking for a place to sleep,
far from the desolate
quiet of sky
and summer sun.
but he grew restless, this boy
lungs filled with saltwater
& quaking bones carved with feathers
and seaweed.
detached of the pressure
between his fingers
and the slow but thunderous anger
of water.
waves roaring against the sky's belly,
his body rising to the storm
roiling and tumbling
until at last
the current tosses him upright,
palms against the heaven
and his back against
white sand.
one more off-key anthem, let your teeth sink in by brokengod--veins, literature
Literature
one more off-key anthem, let your teeth sink in
If there was only some way
to pull words back into my mouth
without devouring them
like the damn devil,
then it would've hurt less
than the time the wounds were
fresh-
like suicide hanging low
in the air, vibrating
from my tongue
to the world's damn drums
wishing I drowned in the silence
without
falling
unfurling tears
and my shaking bones
holding back words
that are supposed to be left unspoken-
undiscovered
until a slight of hand
shoves me into a cliff
and everything
breaks like glass.
There's so much regret
caught at the edge of
my lungs and I wish I could
just stop saying that-
a dead heart
and an itch at the back
of my throat and a
i keep my hair like i keep my blue jeans: short by A-Lovely-Anxiety, literature
Literature
i keep my hair like i keep my blue jeans: short
the beginning
she was all curls falling over shoulders and small hands and slender ankles, but she was also all crooked toes and cheek moles and half-baked smiles. she wore skinny jeans too long and too big on her and she always wore a jacket because she was always cold. and he thought that she was pretty beautiful the first time he saw her in a parade, sitting on top of a dodge truck and waving with both hands so that no one was left out. she was the kind of pretty beautiful that only came around when he said something stupid and she shook her head at him, trying to hide her teeth but failing miserably.
she wore glasses but only when sh
i.
She's an ocean-eyed dreamer who could fit the skies of a thousand worlds into her mayfly heart. She's got an angel face and a nasty little smile, and she knows all the secrets in her world. All she wants is to carry on dreaming, so she wishes for dragonfly wings and bottled summer nights and sleep that doesn't have to end. That insidious smile lingers, and she won't surrender her dreams even when her life support stumbles and dies.
ii.
He's a romantic with an acoustic soul and steel string scars on his fingertips. He's saving his lovesongs for a perfect girl with summer rolling off her skin and winter in her eyes, and he's never
Three Wishes: Prologues by toxic-scheherazade, literature
Literature
Three Wishes: Prologues
i.
[She's an ocean-eyed dreamer who could fit the skies of a thousand worlds into her mayfly heart. She's got an angel face and a nasty little smile, and she knows all the secrets in her world.]
She's watching the moon. Not that it's really doing very much, you understand − just hanging there like a fat, luminous pearl on the end of an invisible gossamer thread − but it makes her feel better. Actually, the sky itself is giving it a run for its money − that deep, saturated inky colour is hypnotic, gently decaying to a ring of electric azure at the horizon. She wishes she could paint it; it's enough to make her believe in a
they asked you your religion and you answered february; now they're talking snowstorms but you're
thinking third-degree burns and corpses eighty minutes overcooked and that little girl you bound to the
bed, wet-eyed like rain. in the flicker and fade of her moon hands there was oblivion. you lit a match
and shuddered at the staccato screams, inhaled thick and sweet incense delicate-fingered smoke
devouring a body of decaying orchids and carnations, stripped to stems, to ashes, to air.
all evasions aside, the real answer was death.