Sunshine.
I look to the sky and see the great torch of the sky. Its flame shines light down to me, and I echo its light to those around me. Those who will not listen and feel the warm hug of the sun will become frail and weak.
It strengthens us, so we may live long and spread its word. In return we must strengthen it in the cold times, for if it vanishes, we will be left in darkness, our reflections of its holiness will soon after dry up.
All that is living will seep into Terra.
Heed my words, halt the eclipse henceforth. Make sacrifices, do good in the eyes of god.
Kill the wicked and naysayers.
I'M ONLY SLEEPING
The eternal blanket of death. Oh how I long for it, my only true love. She brings comfort from all ailments. One day you may return to life if it is wished by him, he takes you from your lover. Like an unfaithful husband the momentary pleasure is replaced by a longing for what you truly need.
Beatles alternate lyrics.
Please don’t take me.
Leave me with her.
She is I and I am she.
We make a happy fam-ily.
Please don’t take me.
Leave me with her.
Please…
I want her everywhere
Not here nor there
Everywhere
Selling my life to her
A sale I can never undo.
A one-way street.
I know when she’ll leave.
When i'm no longer entertaining.
I’ll find her
Rip her open and take it back.
Bullshit
The neon advertisement boards and screens were all a delicious assault of color and light to her soft eyes.
They gave her life an unexplainable meaningless meaning, a reason to keep going.
Blah blah life life
Veneno
P
A
R
A
S
I
T
E
The water you drink is poisoned.
The food you eat is poisoned.
*sort of*
You could even say food and drink are slowly wearing down your organs.
So is that blood pressure medication you take.
So is that diabetic medication, you have to take because you chose to drink a big gulp everyday.
Honestly you should just kill yourself.
Then you can finally strike back at nature and poison the ground.
CORNY
KUNANI DUKAKEGA
Hello?
Yeah.
I didn’t say anything, stupid
------------------------------------
Strike a nerve?
*beep, buzz*
I splat onto my bed like a fly hit with a swatter, “This, ASSHOLE, calls me after months of silence, doesn’t apologize just does that.” With a mock face I mouth, “Fuck you too then.”
*ring, click*
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Mad at me?
*beep, buzz*
*ring, click*
Sto-
Stop what. Asshole.
Why are you so pissy?
Pfftttt, *beep, buzz*
I set my phone to airplane and step out of bed, tissues litter my floor, months of trash overfill my pint sized trash can, and pillow with a wig and one of his shirts slid onto it, lay next to my space on, ou–, my bed.
I feel like I'm not here, I don’t have a solid reflection, it ripples with the waves of emotion and the changing of light, only my eyes can see this, I can’t know what you see. I don’t have a personality; that isn’t the image others created for me.
They make up what is me and I make up what is them.
It’s as if I die every night I sleep, I don’t understand why I did what I did or I do what I do, why I looked like that, why I thought that looked good or how I liked that person. I didn’t always feel like this, maybe this is enlightenment.
I was alive once.
I had dreams once.
I had interests once.
Once…
When do I wake?
woamnnn (im gay)
I see her in the street, in the sky, she is everywhere. She is formles, but I feel her everywhere, my silk sheets are her skin, my wine is her blood, a fine steak is her body. Her toxins flow through my essence. When I sleep she comes to me, not a word is spoken she torments me with her silence. Everything is her imitation.
AKIRA SHORT STORY, IGNORE CHAPTERS.
AKIRA
Chapter 1: Akira
This day is just like yesterday and the day before and the day before tha, trapped in the rat race.
Akira lays in her bed,staring at the ceiling, pretending to think, watching the water drip from a leak.
The still air is suddenly sliced–the sound of glass shattering.
Under the impression someone is inside her house… again, she quickly snatches up her gun, the other arm grabbing a pillow to cover her body. She yells out “Fuck off!” as her finger rests on the trigger.
Frantically scanning the room for the intruder–to the right there's a picture frame fallen down beside the bed, and a pesky rat peeking out from a hole. For a moment she considers shooting it right then and there but it's not worth the eviction–yet.
The tension is heightened by her reminder to take her meds going off. With a quick glance at her alarm she mutters, “Shit… 3 o’clock.”
Late on the very first day of work. Panicking, she jumps, dropping everything and putting on some clothes from the previous night.
Everything hurts; it feels like being the Tin-Woman. She flips on the light, and more of her own personal dumpster is revealed.
Just a few steps in, there’s a sharp pain in her heel, a small shard from the broken picture frame, she jumps away practically flying to the side right into a rotten pile of take-out cartons.
In the corner a rat scurries away toward a hole in the wall. The same one that was by the alarm clock. Without a neuron firing she lunges, it almost looks like it might work for a fraction of a second.
But the attempt is depressing to say the least, if anyone had seen it they would have laughed, as she grasps the air, the cheekily rat scurries into its hole.
Looking around the room she becomes aware of the multitude of holes it really wouldn’t matter anyway if she got the rat. Logically.
Slumping over, a single tear escapes her eye, the warmth of it contrasting with the cold floor. It’s like she can’t get anything right not ever not this time not ever.
Stepping up is difficult, mentally at least. A defeated sigh escapes her lips and she begins to clean up the broken picture frame, soon after staring at the photograph once held together by it, a wave of sadness crashes upon her. “I'm fine.”, she asserts—pacing to the door.
Chapter 2: Takyon
Takyon’s groans in pain, his head feels like someone hit it with a cinder block.
Rolling to the side he is met with a woman’s body facing him, she’s fast asleep. He thinks, “Not again…” he glances around the room—no condoms in sight, “Damnit.” He gets up carefully from the bed checking the trash—none there.
He quickly pulls out a bottle of Plan B from his drawer, takes a single one out and begins shaking the woman impatiently.
With a grunt of irritation she says, “One more hour.”
“One more hour after you take this fucking pill.”
He dangles it in front of her face.
Her eyes still half closed she mutters, “Fine.”
Without further hesitation she takes it.
Takyon settles back into bed, maintaining a respectable distance from her. His eyes grow heavy–”huahhf.” he gasps out as she rolls onto him.
“Ever ‘eard of personal space, lady” He says grumpily but still placing his hands on her hips.
She eloquently responds, “mphmmf.”
Chapter 2.5: Transition
The next morning he awakens to the lingering aroma of sex, liquor and—BACON! He meanders to the kitchen, a sly smile on his face.
“Surprised you didn’t leave, made any for me?”
She jumps slightly startled by his presence, “Y-yeah on the isle.” She doesn’t make eye contact, either out of awkwardness or too stuck in her writing.
Chuckling slightly, he throws together a bacon bagel, before playfully grabbing her shoulders, startling her again.
He says with his mouth full of food, “Thanks for breakfast ‘n all but why the fuck are you still here most chicks leave—what’s with the writing?”
Chapter 3: Diary:
The walk to the metro and the ride itself was rather uneventful. Unless a bum asking for a light is interesting. At least I didn’t get fired but the work day was mind numbingly monotonous—put down pick up put down pick up.
What happened after work is another hole burned into my memory, smoked and drank away by my own choosing.
An older gentleman at an AA meeting I went to a few months back said, “Drinking turned years into faint memories.” He committed suicide a bit after thinking of this, seems like “enlightenment” is the sister of immolation.
Why live if all you're going to do is forget. Without memory you're just an imitation of the humanity you once had—nothing more.
Chapter 4: Made To Love Her
He only got a glance of what she wrote, a fleeting moment of protectiveness. With a comforting pat he said, “Thanks again for that breakfast.”
She begins to sob, wetting the page of her notebook, reluctantly he walks out of the apartment leaving her dry, she’s just a hookup, aimlessly he walks around the apartment complex.
He’s unsure how long he was out but when he returns she’s gone. The house is clean, he didn’t even get her name. The house is as it was the previous day, as if she never came.
He feels the unfamiliar saline warmth of tears gently caress his skin, but his eyes burn and his mind grows vulnerable.
In a cramped smoke filled shower. A woman softly cries.
A fog has rolled over her mind, a flimsy curtain for her heart. The water acts as a static, an agent of distortion.
What wonderful painting this would be, if there were anyone to paint it.
I dont like this one
Airman’s Dream.
The young reach to the sky, their eyes a narrow peephole viewing absolute freedom from inside their cages. The philosopher looks to the sky with dilated eyes, taking in the external value of it, seeking undeserved knowledge.
The airman may never understand the meaning of their flight beyond simple pleasure, and may never understand the meaning of the immeasurable nothingness and great bonfire. But for a time he is one with it, just as one does not understand the self neither does he understand it.
This ecstasy overshadows anything a man can experience in the dirt. The stars are his pantheon of lovers.
He craves dying in the arms of his lovers, a blaze of fire reflecting their light.
Many millennia after his slumber, he will be compressed into a pile of unrecognizable vile and set ablaze.
