[x]

Bad HabitsS.

She always rubs her mouth,
like there’s a secret she can’t say out loud.

Tracing her own lips to prevent a smile, a frown, or a tear.
Sometimes her real smile peeks through, but you can only see it in her squinted almond eyes; dark amber, and soft, just like that bashful grin.
Sometimes a frown shows when no one is looking, followed by a wistful sigh and a simple wipe of the palm across that silent mouth, trying to push the bad feelings and words away.
Sometimes tears roll past her knuckles; she fails to catch them at the source because she’s scared to wipe her eyes raw, so she brushes them away after they’ve fall

paris and troy When she met him, he had a ring around his finger that he never took off. When she realized it was etched into his skin, ink as permanent as his existence, she asked if he was married. He laughed.
The ink said "Helen," woven into a ring by his knuckle, and he told that Helen was the love of his life. She wanted to be jealous, she wanted to feel resentful, but he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair while he told her the story of Helen, Queen of Mycenaean Sparta, and a love so fierce that Paris fought a war to keep her.
"So many things in life are mediocre," he told her while her fingers traced the tattoo. "Helen reminds me that lov

Till death do us part"till death do us part"

Once upon a time there was a young girl standing under a tree with a frayed old noose hanging from a gnarled leafless branch. She had her grandfathers pocket knife in her hand, chips of wood scattered on the muddy ground. She stared blankly at the carved out heart with a whole in it. "When I find him...or her...them...its 2013 I'm open mined...I will return to this place and make my heart whole" she said to the mangled old tree.

Many years passed, filled with studies and travels, each year returning to that old tree marking off a line for each year her heart remained unfulfilled. On her return home from her yearly ri

Summer SalutationsEyes open, blooming flowers as the sun sets the sky on fire and burns away all traces of that damp, grey, world caught in between yesterday's end and today's beginning.

Shout with joy all you that are green and growing, all who shake off with gladness your pale night's wrappings and raise your selves in the most ancient salute to the beginning of long days of light and life.

Send skywards your tears, your cold nightly sweat, the sticky beads of dew still clinging to your outstretched hands, reminding you of the dead world before and keeping the hot light from pouring into your eager cupped palms and dancing across your starving skin. Let it

the butterflyYou sit down in a cornfield a golden ocean surrounds you.
When the wind blows, he creates waves and dishevels your hair.
It smells like summer. It is Julie and the sun burns, the clouds are gone.
The yesterdays rain dried already and so the nature, reborn, after the long winter feels fresh and new.
Birds are twittering.
You smile and stretch your arms as high as you can.
Suddenly something lands on your fingertip.

It is a butterfly!

With a colour like a piece of the sky.
Softly, slowly it moves his wings to tank the heat.
He did just escape his homely safe cocoon and is fragile as a new bourn baby.
You don't dare to breath.

So flawl

Falling I’m falling. Falling. Falling.
“What are you doing?”
I turn around. You are there. Wasn’t I falling?
You ask again, “what are you doing?”
I look up at you and tilt my head slightly, furrowing my eyebrows. I answer, “I… don’t know.”
You stand there. You crossed your arms and sighed deeply. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’” You ask.
I just stand there, staring at you. I suddenly feel a pain in my chest and look down. I move my hand slowly up to grip it. I feel it pounding. “It hurts,” I say softly. I look back up at you. “Why

Skylight

It’s shocking how long the man went without sunlight. He lived in the box, and never saw a light before.

The others thought he was a sad man. They wanted him in the sunshine. They wanted him to have fresh air. They wanted him to live life with everyone else. They held protests, picketing all the major establishments, forgetting the slightly more pressing issues at the moment. After all, they might not be able to solve world hunger, or world peace, but maybe they could open that world to someone else.

It took three years, but finally, the proper authorities broke down and agreed to let the man outside that box. There was a huge ceremony

Heaven

I’m not like the others. My body doesn’t react well to the treatments the clinics provide. I’m a medical marvel in fact; they haven’t encountered someone whose body absolutely rejected every method before. My parents were devastated. I guess when nobody dies funerals are an even bigger deal. Yeah that’s right, medical technology has advanced to the point where people no longer die. Bodies regenerate and maintain a comfortable appearance of what a twenty-five year old looked like all those hundreds of years ago. Maybe it sounds strange, but it’s what people of this time are accustomed to.

I’m h

Alone: Chapter 1Alone: Chapter 1

Jimmy's Note: All events that will follow are fictional. The (start of the) story is set in the year 2023.

Name's James, and don't wear it out. Thirty years old, and I am already living the dream. I live in a luxury penthouse that prides itself in having the most splendid view of the New York skyline from its cantilevered deck with sky garden and pool, and a breathtaking view of the ocean from the glass windows that fill one side of my art studio, where I work on some of the grandest architectural projects the world has ever known, some of which include the biggest charity housing complex ever built, some celebrity homes ac

Something I thought up, possible story?A young woman stands outside of her home. The living space wasn't much, just a bamboo structure with a couple if rooms and a roof, but that's all anyone had in this timeline.
What year was it, again? Oh yeah, that hasn't been discovered yet.
Or any unit of time for that matter.
It may seem like something that'd be said in the past, right? Well that statement is false. This womans story actually takes place in the future.
Three-hundred-billions years into the future to be exact.
As this girl's story progresses, you will learn of what exactly happened to the world we know today.
But let's start off by introducing this young girl.
Her name is Athena. She was not named after the Greek goddess, for the people of this timeline have knowledge of Greece or any sort if deity.
They only have knowledge of the things that happened before the last generation went extinct. But let's save that for later.
This woman was a bit of a philosopher. She spent her time studying and thinking of the worl

SkyHunterLet me get one thing out of the way right now.

I do not have a latex fetish.

Or a rubber fetish, or a vinyl fetish. Nothing like that. I had a girl ask me that the other day. I was working, bagging groceries at this little store on Beacon. She noticed my yellow-white gloves and she asked me did I have a fetish for latex. I blinked, and told her no, I didn’t, it was because of a condition. She told me that it was okay if I called it a condition, that other people liked it too and that it was a normal part of being human. She then told me that she was more of a bondage person.

Her mother’s face ran scarlet.

There were days when

Haunted"I'm sorry," she says softly. The sky is black above, speckled and marred by the bright scattered peaks of stars. An empty field stretches out from her on all sides, grass swaying softly back and forth in the breeze. The horizon is a flat plane in the distance.
She's all alone, but she doesn't feel like she is. She can feel the spirits all around her, filling up the field and then reaching up into the sky. She can hear their voices, quiet and stuttered as they are.
"--John? John, where--"
"--I just need to tell her--"
"--have you seen--"
"--Alice, can you hear me? Can you--"
All of them are looking for someone; a child, a lover, a friend.
"I'm so sorry," she murmurs to them once more. "I didn't mean to bring you back. I thought it would be better for you this way."
They can't hear her.
She covers her face in her hands, weeping for the lost souls she pulled back from death.
"--I just want to see her--"
"--Is anyone here?! I can't--"
"--where are they--"
The girl beg

But Softly1.
I am an artist.
I feel the need to create.
I explore the feeling.
2.
Yet creation is impossible. The colors splashed onto a canvas are but colors; they need to be saturated, pumped with the essence of something.
Words do not add the necessary element. They only waste ink and space. They are clutter.
Even sounds and motion and dance do not breathe anything more than dimensions. How can these things ever become more than the
sluggishly industrious blood of the artist? How can they become thoughts, ideas, suspended but flapping dusty wings
gently, how can art be more than residue?
3.
I bleed.
Images, material, sex, honesty, tears, purgative, travel, touch, music, struggle, nature, fear, depression, consumption, money, rags, paint,
libraries, machines, schooling, risk

Midnight ramblings of an old manThe stars tonight hide behind the clouds. To think I would miss their glow as I do now. Tonight I wonder, had they even existed in the first place? I know that I have seen them for twenty-five thousand days, and their light had never faltered. Now, they were only gone for a night but why is it that I think every single star in the universe were just an illusion, that there were no such entities that burnt, fissioned to produce light and heat? Even the Sun which I cannot see in the dark night sky, one which held us so close and nurtured dearest Earth which in turn nurtured us; us who have been leeching off of our Mother.
What horrible children we are. To use Mother to our advantage through sucking her life blood. Soon enough we might not be able to see our Grandmother through the dust in our eyes. We become cold and shiver in the darkness, again using Mother's blood to keep warm and produce light, to see again and to advance further. Slowly Mother dies, painfully and sadly. Poor old Gra

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i amTo touch your wooden skin
To kiss your copper lips
To feel your iron touch
I forgot.

I don't know how to smile
I don't know how to cry
I don't do reactions

I don't live, I don't die.

Show me how to be
How to live and how to die
Pour your soul in me
Give me all your lies.

I don't want to hold you
I don't want your touch
Show me that you know me.

I am.

transcendsand i just want to lie down in bed and do nothing but sleep my whole life through. as afraid as i may be of waking up one day old, wrinkled and full of regrets, right now i wish i would go to bed and sleep and sleep and know i am protected and maybe not wake up. maybe i could just gradually stop existing in this physical world and would just continue as an ethereal being, my soul floating endlessly through an eternal sea of shadows and stars, of regrets and
desires, of love and hatred, of happiness and sorrow, around a million other souls and a thousand dreams. and that i would just serenely BE without EXISTING as a body. and you would neve

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Why they cry

by ~maitreyi, Nov 17, 2004, 2:37:02 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives

          She had only opened her eyes for a few seconds, and she had already seen her whole life flash before her eyes. No, she wasn’t dying, but it was as if she were, she thought, seeing what destiny lied before her. A life of pain, grieve, tears, lies, hope and love, lust and sin, a life of ups and downs, a life of goods and bads, a life of fulfillment and of despair. She had barely put one little toe in this new world, and she had already felt the putrid smell of death in the wards surrounding her, the mingled odor of sweat, emptiness and hatred. The sound of people dying, suffering or coldly laughing in their insanity had hit her little ears the very second she had come out. The chill of darkness and misfortune had already caressed her delicate skin, leaving long slimy tracks.
           She had no idea what to make of it all, but she knew that for those few seconds when her spirit had just passed the boundary between the two worlds she was able to see everything “life” had in store for her, able to know the secrets of the world, able to care and to feel.
         “All this will be over soon” she quickly thought, knowing that the law says you are to forget before you can begin again.
          And then she heard a strange voice saying “Congratulations, Corinne, you have a beautiful baby girl!” and knew it was time to let go... she didn’t want to let go of all she had been, of all she was, of all she would become, of all she could become. She wanted to fight the stupid law. But she couldn’t.
           She let out a scream and started crying... And then she forgot.

Why they cryby ~maitreyi

Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives

suppose this is true, suppose each of us sees their destiny when they are born, and forget it the next minute, and that each of us can see, for once in our lifes, all the hidden shadows of the world.... suppose that means that for just a few seconds, when we are born, we are a part of the universe before we become a part of the world
suppose we were all parts of a star, feathers of angels, or drops of rain...
suppose it's true
i was just thinking about this...

~ailu Nov 17, 2004

whoa. this is beautiful! it works up and has a sudden, unexpected ending. You could write a book out of this!!

~maitreyi Nov 18, 2004

he, i thought about writing a book loads of times... maybe it's time i did that. and since i won't be able to publish it, i'll just have to email it to you and you'll just have to read it and give me your opinion on it. but he, it would be a short book, i don't think i'll be able to write more than 30 pages...
he, maybe i will do that!
that's so exciting :d

~ailu Nov 18, 2004

you really shoudl do it! and maybe you could get it published too !!

~maitreyi Nov 19, 2004

i'll try to. i'll have to think of the whole story, of a way to write it so that everything makes sense, of a genre, like essay, or fiction, or... hmmmm... i'll let you know how it goes!

~ailu Nov 19, 2004

yay

~ForgottenProphecy Nov 17, 2004

BABIES!

~maitreyi Nov 17, 2004

yup

the most beautiful creatures!

~ForgottenProphecy Nov 17, 2004

They kinda look like aliens, all slimy and beady eyes screaming with no teeth. But yeah. LOL

~maitreyi Nov 17, 2004

aliens, huh?

well, i kinda like the little fellas

~ForgottenProphecy Nov 17, 2004

They are cute. (until they learn how to talk)

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