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neo7v

United States

Feelings conveyed through words and phrases threaded so carefully together is what makes life worth living.

Message from Writer

Write from the things and places you know best because they're always where the greatest ideas bloom from.

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neo7v (United States) published:

Dream Jar

FREE WRITING

I own a little jar
With blue, green, purple
And a rotund shape
It holds my dreams

The top is beaded
A flower in full bloom
And a log where it stays
It guards my dreams

The inside is smooth
Color too dark
And bottom too shallow
It embraces my dreams

The jar is full
Of crumpled papers
And forgotten words
It captivates my dreams
And my heart

Seeking Peer Reviews

5 days ago

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neo7v (United States) published:

Aerego

PROMPT: Fernweh

Aerego (Air-e-go)-
Noun;
1. A person so full of themselves that they don't listen to others
Example: "You are so aerego! It's like everything I say just passes through you!"
Adjective;
2. Acting so foolishly and oblivious that it comes across as arrogance
Example: "I thought his aerego attitude was just an act, but he's actually an airhead that thinks he's better than everyone else."
3. Taking on an image similar to one of an arrogant person
Example: "I can't take...

Seeking Peer Reviews

5 days ago

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neo7v (United States) published:

Aerego

PROMPT: Fernweh

Aerego (Air-e-go)-
Noun;
1. A person so full of themselves that they don't listen to others
Example: "You are so aerego! It's like everything I say just passes through you!"
Adjective;
2. Acting so foolishly and oblivious that it comes across as arrogance
Example: "I thought his aerego attitude was just an act, but he's actually an airhead that thinks he's better than everyone else."
Verb;
3. To take on an image similar to one of an arrogant person
Example: "I...

Seeking Peer Reviews

5 days ago

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1

neo7v (United States) published:

Potential

FREE WRITING

A wooden doll
Its features blank
Waiting for a mouth
Two eyes
And a nose

A broken chair
Its legs gone
Waiting for someone
To notice
It needs fixed

A lonely dog
Its owner missing
Waiting to be given
Love
And a home

A happy child
Its smile wide
Waiting for nothing
Because they
Already own the world

Seeking Peer Reviews

7 days ago

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neo7v (United States) published:

Untitled Love

FREE WRITING

How?
To describe such a feeling of…
                    Disgust? Admiration? Entitlement?
It’s when you would do anything for them...
                    Would I take a bullet?
            Abuse?
    Rejection?
What will I do if you reject me?
From what?
        These feelings I’ve kept bottled up inside?
They’re waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting
To be free of the cage I hold them in
So dearly to my heart
    These flocks of loveandhatemixedtogetheruntilthere’snothingleftIcansee…...

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12 days ago

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neo7v (United States) published:

Solace in the Setting of the Moon

PROMPT: On the Last Day of the World

In the sorrow I feel strengthened by the last touch given from the moon as her bright beams shine upon us,
​My only wish is to watch the world close it's eyes for the last time with a smile on my face.

Seeking Peer Reviews

16 days ago

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neo7v (United States) liked Turning Darkness into Light by RockSugar98 (Singapore)

16 days ago

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neo7v (United States) published:

Home of Beige and Frost

PROMPT: Ten Words to You

Beige feelings,
​Frosted air,
​Tiny bubbles,
​Paper shuffling,
Quiet dome;
​Anyone home?

Seeking Peer Reviews

16 days ago

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neo7v (United States) published:

Home of Beige and Frost

PROMPT: Ten Words to You

Beige feelings,
​Frosted air,
​Tiny bubbles,
​Paper shuffling,
Quiet home;
​Anyone home?

Seeking Peer Reviews

16 days ago

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neo7v (United States) published:

You Control You

FREE WRITING

    Keep your head down. Shoulders hunched. Eyes forward. Always be the smartest in the class because grades are everything. They control your life. They control your friends. They control you.
    Act like you know everything to hide when you truly know nothing. Knowledge is power, especially in the world today. Especially with the teens around you.
    They leer and jeer mockingly at anyone who’s less than them. Less in money. Less in power. Less in beauty. It’s the cool kids...

Seeking Peer Reviews

17 days ago

Published Work

Dream Jar

I own a little jar
With blue, green, purple
And a rotund shape
It holds my dreams

The top is beaded
A flower in full bloom
And a log where it stays
It guards my dreams

The inside is smooth
Color too dark
And bottom too shallow
It embraces my dreams

The jar is full
Of crumpled papers
And forgotten words
It captivates my dreams
And my heart

Fernweh

Aerego

Aerego (Air-e-go)-
Noun;
1. A person so full of themselves that they don't listen to others
Example: "You are so aerego! It's like everything I say just passes through you!"
Adjective;
2. Acting so foolishly and oblivious that it comes across as arrogance
Example: "I thought his aerego attitude was just an act, but he's actually an airhead that thinks he's better than everyone else."
3. Taking on an image similar to one of an arrogant person
Example: "I can't take him anymore! He's like an aerego husband that ignores his wife! Anyone else would be better than him at this point."

Fernweh

Aerego

Aerego (Air-e-go)-
Noun;
1. A person so full of themselves that they don't listen to others
Example: "You are so aerego! It's like everything I say just passes through you!"
Adjective;
2. Acting so foolishly and oblivious that it comes across as arrogance
Example: "I thought his aerego attitude was just an act, but he's actually an airhead that thinks he's better than everyone else."
Verb;
3. To take on an image similar to one of an arrogant person
Example: "I can't take him anymore! He's like an aerego husband that ignores his wife! Anyone else would be better than him at this point."

Potential

A wooden doll
Its features blank
Waiting for a mouth
Two eyes
And a nose

A broken chair
Its legs gone
Waiting for someone
To notice
It needs fixed

A lonely dog
Its owner missing
Waiting to be given
Love
And a home

A happy child
Its smile wide
Waiting for nothing
Because they
Already own the world

Untitled Love

How?
To describe such a feeling of…
                    Disgust? Admiration? Entitlement?
It’s when you would do anything for them...
                    Would I take a bullet?
            Abuse?
    Rejection?
What will I do if you reject me?
From what?
        These feelings I’ve kept bottled up inside?
They’re waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting
To be free of the cage I hold them in
So dearly to my heart
    These flocks of loveandhatemixedtogetheruntilthere’snothingleftIcansee… Except.
You.
Like a tunneled vision;
    All I can see is you.
Waving at me.
        Holding me close.
                      Kissing me softly goodnight.
Why?
Why me?
Why you?
Why not the boy selling flowers down the street,
His knitted hat pulled tightly over a bed of springing locks that refuse to lie down,
His cheeky smile and rosy lips begging for someone to steal him away.
Why not the boy with the laugh...

On the Last Day of the World

Solace in the Setting of the Moon

In the sorrow I feel strengthened by the last touch given from the moon as her bright beams shine upon us,
​My only wish is to watch the world close it's eyes for the last time with a smile on my face.

Ten Words to You

Home of Beige and Frost

Beige feelings,
​Frosted air,
​Tiny bubbles,
​Paper shuffling,
Quiet dome;
​Anyone home?

Ten Words to You

Home of Beige and Frost

Beige feelings,
​Frosted air,
​Tiny bubbles,
​Paper shuffling,
Quiet home;
​Anyone home?

You Control You

    Keep your head down. Shoulders hunched. Eyes forward. Always be the smartest in the class because grades are everything. They control your life. They control your friends. They control you.
    Act like you know everything to hide when you truly know nothing. Knowledge is power, especially in the world today. Especially with the teens around you.
    They leer and jeer mockingly at anyone who’s less than them. Less in money. Less in power. Less in beauty. It’s the cool kids that control who we act as. Who we are. Why keep your inner beauty? It’s useless isn’t it?
    Sly voices whisper in my ear how pathetic I am. Do I listen? Do I write it all down? Or do I just keep my head down so nobody notices I’m different. Notices the thoughts in my head are still churning.
    Sometimes the voices become too loud. Pitiful. Hopeless. Unwanted. Talent-less. On and on and on until…. My fingers dash across the...

Setting as Mood

Genie in a Bottle

Jinn knew the world was vast. He'd heard of the towering mountains and hills which one could roam upon for hours without getting bored once. He'd listened to those who spoke of fragrant flowers that bloomed only in moonlight and wishes to be able to fly away and watch the sun rise from the highest peaks and lowest of valleys. He'd read tales of swashbuckling pirates and swooning maidens that waited for their prince to save them. If only someone would save him so he could see the stark contrast of sky and ocean as the waves crashed in a beautiful cacophony against the shore, the sound unlike any he could ever imagine. If only he could taste the sweetness of chocolate and the spiciness of fresh red peppers, the taste vibrant and popping off the tongue. If only Jinn hadn't been born a genie.

The Peace of Wild Things

The Peace of Love

The soft treading of deer
Fur shining in the moonlight
Of the backyard they're painted against
Grass swaying softly along with the trees
As they sing in harmony
The leaves dancing along
A campfire crackling in the distance
The hush of voices filling the air
A warmth settles over as if hugging close
The smoke obscures the sky full of stars
Happiness and content overbearing in this peaceful place
The peace of wild things and love
The peace of home

Pondering Thoughts of a Fervent Mind

Sometimes I do wonder whether I am ever real
If I can touch the water’s edge but never its deep still
The mist will swirl around me but never settle here
The cooling air and warming fare is nothing but is always sheer

The trying tryst of tying nights can never reach my fingertips
The morning sun is glowing bright but never does warmth keep its might
The frost swirls round and slowly melts against a surface just like it’s akin
To heavy snow that bites the skin and kindles fear from deep within

The thoughts of others surround the surface of their own facades
Their strength foreboding, whisking minds and boggling my fervent thoughts
The wisps of logic connecting in wee strands of black and white
The rumination’s contemplation lacking color, feeling bright

Sometimes thoughts escape the cracks I sealed within my heart
Like questions of the pondering sort that collide against society
And sometimes I do wonder whether...

Why I Write

The Passion of Writing

    The number slowly ticks upwards throughout the week. 902. 921. 946. 967. Butterflies crawl along my insides and I’m so nervous and excited at the same time.
    Oh gosh, why did I even write this garbage? It’s horrible. People are just clicking on it because the title looks interesting and they love the characters. Not me. Not the plot. Not the words fabricated into intricate patterns that even I find difficult to untangle and follow myself. 975
    Maybe I’ve read this sentence too many times. My eyes swarm in the darkening light and it’s getting hard to keep back the yawns. Drooping eyes and counting numbers and is it really already at 983?
    I guess I should go to bed. Waiting all day and longing for a simple four digit number has gotten you nowhere. Too nervous to write, but too excited to sleep, I lay in bed in a limbo of sorts, my mind torn across...

Why I Write

The Passion of Writing

    The number slowly ticks upwards throughout the week. 902. 921. 946. 967. Butterflies crawl along my insides and I’m so nervous and excited at the same time.
    Oh gosh, why did I even write this garbage? It’s horrible. People are just clicking on it because the title looks interesting and they love the characters. Not me. Not the plot. Not the words fabricated into intricate patterns that even I find difficult to untangle and follow myself. 975
    Maybe I’ve read this sentence too many times. My eyes swarm in the darkening light and it’s getting hard to keep back the yawns. Drooping eyes and counting numbers and is it really already at 983?
    I guess I should go to bed. Waiting all day and longing for a simple three digit number has gotten you nowhere. Too nervous to write, but too excited to sleep, I lay in bed in a limbo of sorts, my mind torn across...

Like You're Special to Me

    I'm not sure how to say it. The swirling of words that seem harmless by themselves, but wreaks havoc on the mind and body when put together. It's complicated to say, yet no tongue twister is as scary to say as this.
   What if you reject me? Or decide I'm too weird and our friendship dies because of it? This nervous energy inside of me that seems as endless as the ocean crashes against the weakness of my heart and I can feel my heartbeat quickening just thinking about it. Just thinking about you.
   Your caramel colored eyes that glint with such curiosity and joy. Tilted glasses on your beautifully sloped nose. The smirk that rides against your lips, as if to taunt me on to keep talking to you. Your laugh that feels like music to the ears.
   Our conversations are nothing special. They're a banter back and forth. About school and friends and...

Haven Institute

    I don't want to die. Yet, it seems to be a hazard in my line of work. Running knives. Smoking guns. Tightening chains. The smell of blood permeating the air. It makes me sick to my stomach.
   I didn't want to be a killer. The job was forced upon me as a young, impressionable child and I had no choice but to run with it. Bruised bodies. Sharpened blades. Floors dyed red with the dead. It was all I had known growing up. All I had been taught.
   If only I had been strong enough. To resist the bloodlust shoved towards me when I was young. To resist the spoon that kept feeding me that same feeling. Of hate. And destruction. And death. If only I could have escaped that viscous cycle that kept pulling me in like a marionette whose strings cut to the bone.
   But alas, I am too late to stop this path I...

Unloved

I think I might die alone
Not from anger
Or spite
Or jealousy
But because at the very core of me
I'm unlovable

I'm not talking about the love of family
Or friends
Or colleages
But of the kind between lovers
Who know your darkest secrets
And love you despite it

I don't have any dark secrets to hide away
Or a face pretty enough to need to
So I'll abide
While the pretty girls are chased after
And I'm in the background
Alone and forgotten

Whirlwind of Forget

    “Miss?” I open my eyes and snow assaults my vision. A moan shivers through me as a shadow blocks the sun above. A man’s face appears above me, blurry for a second and then clearing up in an instant. “Are you okay?” he asks me, concern etching his face.
    “I think so,” I reply back. “But one question. Who am I?” Alarm flashes across the man’s face and he pulls a box out of his pocket.
    “911,” he says into the box. “I’ve found a girl in the snow on the banks of the Wildcat Creek near Dayton. The girl doesn’t know who she is either and appears to have a concussion too.” The box must be saying something back because he stays silent for a few seconds and then responds with a, “Yes ma’am,” and puts the box away.
    He looks me in the eye and smiles at me. “You’re going to be all right miss. The ambulance is...

Through the Window

    The portrait painted through the window held a certain kind of magic to bewitch and trick the mind. The trees swayed in patterns of figure eights and the leaves swirled together as if dancing with each other on a floor that nobody, but the leaves themselves could see. Dirt collected in piles at the bases of the trees, trying to create their own little mountains amidst the forest.
    The ants traveled in the grooves of the dirt created by the wind over time, their legs marching along to a rhythm only they knew. Pieces of cookies and globs of jam from a picnic nearby are held between their pincers. And they walked to their queen, heads hung low from the weight of their bounty. Steady in beat and lines formed perfectly like an arrow to home base.
    A mother and her two sons had a picnic set up nearby. A blanket of biscuits, jams,...

The Perfect Man

I didn’t know what to buy. The assortment of body parts on sale today at the black market were stupendous and looked to be in prime condition. The feet were smooth and soft, the heads full of hair and set in realistic colors. If any day was the perfect day to buy droid body parts, today was the day. Maybe they were selling them cheaper today too? It was a wonderful thought that had me shaking with excitement.
    “How much for the short autumn haired head and a pair of the tanned double bolted feet?” I asked the woman at the counter, anticipation quivering through my voice. She thought for a second, head tilted and hand stroking her chin.
    “200 units,” the woman finally answered.
    “That’s way too much!” I protested. “On a regular day, these would go for 50 units each. You’re swindling me!” I accused, snarling softly at the woman. She just turned away from...

The Toy Soldier

    A toy soldier stands on a dresser, looking towards the space themed bed and the little boy who's sleeping in it. His uniform is painted onto his wooden skin with strokes of careful deliberation, but flecks of red and gold and black are gone from his hat and coat, showing the years he's lived and the love he's been given. His shoes are the only bright spot left on him, polished to a perfect glittering black, as if they had been used as a good luck charm for the little boy who owns him.
    The soldier sits day after day, watching over the young boy as he starts to grow up. Stuffed animals are replaced with comic books. The constellations on his ceiling are replaced with sports posters. But the toy soldier lives on, shoes rubbed constantly until even the shine is gone from them and the paint becomes thin and balding.
    Then one day, his...

The Toy Soldier

    A toy soldier stands on a dresser, looking towards the space themed bed and the little boy who's sleeping on it. His uniform is painted onto his wooden skin with strokes of careful deliberation, but flecks of red and gold and black are gone from his hat and coat, showing the years he's lived and the love he's been given. His shoes are the only bright spot left on him, polished to a perfect glittering black, as if they had been used as a good luck charm for the little boy who owns him.
    The soldier sits day after day, watching over the young boy as he starts to grow up. Stuffed animals are replaced with comic books. The constellations on his ceiling are replaced with sports posters. But the toy soldier lives on, shoes rubbed constantly until even the shine is gone from them and the paint becomes thin and balding.
    Then one day, his...

The Toy Soldier

    A toy soldier sits on a dresser, looking towards the space themed bed and the little boy who's sleeping on it. His uniform is painted onto his wooden skin with strokes of careful deliberation, but flecks of red and gold and black are gone from his hat and coat, showing the years he's lived and the love he's been given. His shoes are the only bright spot left on him, polished to a perfect glittering black, as if they had been used as a good luck charm for the little boy who owns him.
    The soldier sits day after day, watching over the young boy as he starts to grow up. Stuffed animals are replaced with comic books. The constellations on his ceiling are replaced with sports posters. But the toy soldier lives on, shoes rubbed constantly until even the shine is gone from them and the paint becomes thin and balding.
    Then one day, his...

Names for Nature

A Childhood Made of Branches and Snow

    In the woods of my backyard, there is a wigwam. It's a little worn down and there's holes in the ceilings, but it's safe and warm. It's home.
    I could never find it in the spring or summer or fall, but it became a haven of play in the wintertime, its branches melding together to create the perfect home in a wonderland of snow. A circle of leaves lies under it, creating a cushioned carpet below, the bright yellows and reds dulled by the white dusting from above. The etchings of stories long forgotten in time brand the wood, weaving together the lives of a long gone society.
   My sister and I would stay under there for hours, watching the snowflakes fall with awestruck expressions, hair splayed out like a fan and eyes shining with joy. We would talk and talk under the wigwam until the stars came out and we'd point to the stars,...

Third Person Limited

A Monster Named Mittens

    Nathan was afraid. Of the monsters under his bed and the boogeyman hiding in his closet. The foggy darkness where no stars shone through and the shadows creep along the buildings and trees below. He was afraid of the night.
    Chills crept down his spine as he slowly lowered his head to look under the bed, shaking hands clenched tightly to the sheets above. Two green eyes stared back at him. He jumped back onto the bed like he had been shocked, head furrowed beneath his pillow.
    "If only I had a mommy," he sniffled, wanting someone to hold him tight. To tell him everything would be okay.
    But he had no mommy or daddy. They'd left Nathan before he could meet them and he doesn't know why. Maybe he hadn't been smart enough. Or nice enough. Or brave enough.
    It was probably the last one, Nathan thought miserably to himself. He had never...

The Moon, Stars, and We

For now the night is falling
And the moon is up, alight
The ocean’s waves are calling
And the stars are shining bright

We gaze up to the stars together
And hand in hand we lay
With no clouds in sight it’s perfect weather
As you look towards me and say,

“This moment is so perfect”
And I agree except one thing
The stars are only barely flecked
With all the thoughts you bring

For love is one of those thoughts
That sticks out like a sore thumb
And it feels as if I’m casting lots
For with your love the world is numb

The moon is also twinkling
To softly say to me
That this love is only an inkling
Of something we could be

And I know that we are dying
Inside from all this love
But I know I would be lying
If I said my heart shan’t shove

Against the cage I hold it in
So...

The Monsoon We Met

The night has set
On this monsoon
Where we had met
While watching the moon

The breeze is fickle
As we part ways
The water’s trickle
Has stopped for days

I thought it fair
To leave a note
My heart left bare
For you to dote

Not scorn nor hate
Could mar my thought
Nor if ye late
Would cut the knot

And I would stay
Through all monsoons
For just the day
We’d watch the moon

Sneezonic Ritual

"Sneeze... Sneeze. Sneeze!" A circle of hooded figures stood around a single girl sitting criss-crossed in the middle of them, an intense look of concentration on her face. Each of the figures held a single feather in one hand and a flashlight in the other, waving the feathers in loose figure eights as they shined the flashlights directly at her.
    As the chanting grew louder, the girl started to float up, her face scrunching up, up, up, until she relaxed with an annoyed look on her face and falling to the ground with a thump.
    "It's no good," she muttered. "I just can't sneeze."
    The door opened at that moment and the light came on, showing a dusty basement with a bunch of preteens with hoodies on. "Moooooooom!" complained one of the figures near the door, no longer hooded as he looked at his mom accusingly. "We were close to a breaking point!"
 ...

Eyes of Fear and Joy

    Crystal blue eyes gaze back at me in the mirror, their edges rimmed dark blue with a pale yellow circle like a halo around the pupil.
    These eyes have held such wonder, amazement, excitement. I remember the feeling of lighting up like a Christmas tree, my eyes sparkling brighter than the stars in the sky. Tears of happiness falling in droplets to my sheets as I read the comments people put on my stories.
    But there has also been tears of sadness. And anger. And heartache. The shimmer visible in those bright blue eyes, dulling the picture staring back at me. The bubbling feeling, not of butterflies, but of boiling water. Scalding and burning me up in disappointment. Jealousy. Fear.
    The sharp fear, looking back like daggers, scares me the most. The frozen aura emanating from its core of black coal. The tangy feeling of blood curdling my tongue and causing a shiver to...

Faded Yellow Desk

    In an English classroom, in the sixth row from the door in the very back of the room, there is a faded yellow desk, quite different than the rest. It's a small desk, compared to the others, and quite sad looking too. With its cracked, yellow painted surface and squeaking joints. The tan surface of the desk is also scratched, long and curvy and short lines looping together to give the desk life. Lead filled dots are scattered throughout these lines, looking like constellations on a clear night sky.
    The desks around it all look the same; large, smooth, tan surfaces and ruby red seats ready for the next students to sit in them and learn. Aluminum metal cages that keep the desks together, looking brand new and shiny and perfect next to the faded yellow desk that nobody wants.
    There's a girl that sits in the faded yellow desk, galaxy shoes and constant tapping coming...

Imagining If

If trinkets were fickle
And the rain just a trickle
The world would be torn upside down

If the clouds were made of cotton
And sweat poured without stoppin’
It would be the strangest of cities and towns

If everyone could fly
All around the blue sky
The clouds would then be just some people

If the birds could all speak
Then they would just sneak
Around and be spies as they wheeple

If just someone could love
Like the souls from above
I would then willingly weep

If my love would love me
I’d be happy as can be
And to the skies and beyond I would leap

The Dining of Predators

The Pouncing predators will dine between
The gallows inside both minds that will find
We are then dancing onwards to this fate
Where today only, all sing satisfied

When no one knows why that is happening
Since frankly all we’ve done is act, scream, scare
We’ll never know when no one tells us why
The predators will dine between these lies

Ode to Wainwright

Before I leave Wainwright
There is so much I need to do
And one of these things is confessing all this to you
My heart has been so broken
Throughout all of these three years
And I’m not lying when I say I’ll leave this school in tears
I’ll never forget the day
I first came to this great place
As jumpy as a rabbit when I first saw your face
Wainwright is my home
And the place I’ve come to love
With you here too it’s so much like the heaven far above
I’ve always managed to find solace
In books and of the like
And I’ll sure miss this small Wonderland where I’ve never felt fike
It’s at this school I met you
With your wittiness and smarts
I know this won’t happen now, but only if we’d been sweethearts
The hallways are filled up
With my tears and my regret
But it’s also filled with so much...

Better Than Me

    Why do we keep doing this? Repeating the same thing over and over again, but still expecting a different result.
    It's madness. Madness that I keep crawling back to you, even as my stomach turns sourly at the mere mention of your name. Someone help me. Help me stop this cycle of hurt. And anguish. And pain.
    I wish I could run away and forget you. Forget that we had ever met in the first place, but I can't. Your in my mind. In every happy and sad memory I have. I guess this is the drawback of meeting your soulmate at such a young age, but realizing early on that it won't ever work out right. No matter how many times you try.
    I guess I deserve this. Deserve losing you. It was my fault anyways. That we broke up. That we don't fit together anymore. I made things complicated. Made us complicated when they...

Saturday of Tears and Ice Cream

    It's always the slow days that affect you the most. The ones stress free and full with the potential of innocent wonders. Where there's no work to be found and little to do in the ways of activities. You're stuck at home. With books and the television and that puzzle you keep putting off.
    But you don't want to do any of those things, so you lay in bed till noon. Wondering what you're going to do today and trying to muster up the courage to finally leave your nest of blankets and pillows.
    When you finally do leave, it's only because you need to use the restroom. At that point you're already out of bed and the sun is too bright through the curtains so you have to get up, right? At least, that's what your brain is repeating sluggishly to itself.
    So downstairs you go and onto the couch you...

Saturday of Tears and Ice Cream

    It's always the slow days that affect you the most. The ones stress free and full with the potential of innocent wonders. Where there's no work to be found and little to do in the ways of activities. You're stuck at home. With books and the television and that puzzle you keep putting off.
    But you don't want to do any of those things, so you lay in bed till noon. Wondering what you're going to do today and trying to muster up the courage to finally leave your nest of blankets and pillows.
    When you finally do leave, it's only because you need to use the restroom. At that point you're already out of bed and the sun is too bright through the curtains so you have to get up, right? At least, that's what your brain is repeating sluggishly to itself.
    So downstairs you go and onto the couch you...

Saturday of Tears and Ice Cream

    It's always the slow days that affect you the most. The ones stress free and full with the potential of innocent wonders. Where there's no homework to be found and little to do in the ways of activities. You're home stuck. With books and the television and that puzzle you keep putting off.
    But you don't want to do any of those things, so you lay in bed till noon. Wondering what you're going to do today and trying to muster up the courage to finally leave your nest of blankets and pillows.
    When you finally do leave, it's only because you need to use the restroom. At that point you're already out of bed and the sun is too bright through the curtains so you have to get up, right? At least, that's what your brain is repeating sluggishly to itself.
    So downstairs you go and onto the couch you flop....

The Hollowed Tree

    There's a tree in the woods of your backyard that feels more like home than your own sometimes. It's quite a large tree, it's inside hollowed out from years of decay and insects of the invasive, endangering sort and pine needles surround the outside like a barrier from the rest of the world.
    And they truly are a barrier from the life you try to escape every day in the hollowed tree. The peace feels foreign and quiet. It feels... nice. Away from cries of help and shouting and deceptive smiles.
    It's the deceptive smiles that frighten you the most, following after the empty words that sting like millions of tiny paper cuts in your heart. Why does he say such lies to your face? Holding your arm tight in one hand and his belt in another. Why does he say it won't hurt when it does? Every single time, it does.
    The yelling...

If only...

    If only...
    I had said goodbye
    I had been brave enough to try.
    I had held your hand through all that rough day
    I had decided not to leave but stay
    
    And maybe if...
    You had reached out too
    You had not told me what to do
    You had not left me alone
    You had not picked a bone

    Then maybe...
    We would still be friends
    Our life together would have no ends
    We would still talk to each other
    I would still call you my brother

    If only...
    I hadn't stormed out that day
    You had tried to make me stay
    We still knew each other
    You were still my brother
 

The Chaos of the Bus

    Whir. Click. Thump. Beep. Shake. Rattle. Chatter. Bump. Chatter. Click. Chatter. Whir.
    There's no such thing as peace on a school bus. The outbursts of laughter pierce your ears, even through headphones at top volume. The bumps that shake your vision and blur all the lines, giving a headache to anyone who rides. The seats stand so rigid, it's a surprise to find out they're made to cushion you, not destroy the backs of anyone who sits down.
    The people that tap tap tap on your shoulder though, they're the worst. With painted grins of ignorance and conversations with little meaning to talk about the weather, or what did you get for number three or did you see what that girl was wearing she's such a slut or about a hobby that only they seem to care about, but everyone must know all about it.
    And the language they use is just. It's just. It's just there....

Dialogue Dexterity

Vests and Pretzel Stands

    "No."
    My head whipped towards my brother, brows furrowed in annoyance. "Why not?" I pouted my lips at him, jaw jutting out to get his attention. "This is a once in a lifetime experience! There won't be an opportunity like this again for years!"
    The look he gave me could have frozen over the entire ocean and I shivered from the coldness radiating off of him. His eyes glared icicles at me as he replied back, "It's a summer sale. I'm sure they'll have it next year."
    I sighed in annoyance. He just didn't seem to get it. The clearance vests and bow-ties made the mad rush to the mall during the end of summer worth it once I got to show them off.
    "But the khaki's!" I argued back, face slowly crimsoning in frustration. "And the dress shirts! Come on, a man such as yourself should appreciate such high class of clothing!"
 ...

Like I'm Special to You

    Why were you looking at me? With your caramel eyes and pouting lips. Your crinkling nose and piercing gaze. Did I have something in my teeth? Was there something wrong with my hair?
    You always look at me in the mornings, your black hair curled distractedly around your ears. Glasses straightened perfectly and a soft smile lighting up everywhere around me. It's like we're in our own little world and I'm the star attraction for you. And you for me.
    The world feels tinted in swirls of colors that delight and amuse the eye. A fluttering feeling of butterflies tickles my stomach. Is this what love feels like? All mushy and twirling and oh gosh am I ready for something like this? Do you really like me back? I'm not sure...
    You probably don't see me that way, and it's fine. Truly. But the way you look at me. Talk to me. Smile at...

Indigo and Lane

    Indigo and Lane. Lane and Indigo. The terms were synonymous with each other if you asked anyone who lived in the town of Salem. They were the epitome of soul mates and flaunted it everyday, their hands linked together and their steps echoing down the streets in harmony. Even their features complemented each other perfectly; the short Lane with shoulder length golden, curly locks and the tall Indigo with short hair so black it looked to be bluish purple in certain light. You could never find one without the other, and if you did, it was only to see them rushing towards the other into a mushy embrace, then falling to the ground together in laughter.
    Yes, they were the epitome of soul mates, but Lane found something missing from their relationship. All they did was talk and hold hands, with hugs being a rarity between them. They’d never once kissed in the two years they had been dating and...

Mistakenly Dead

    "Sir, I think there's been a mistake." I look around nervously at the walls made of bone and teeth and hair, a shudder runs down my spine. Definitely a mistake.
    The skeleton at the desk in front of me just gives me the look. You know the one I'm talking about; single eyebrow raised and a dead look in the eyes. Or you could just look at a teacher who's clearly been teaching too long. Yeah, that look.
    "You're dead," it responds dryly. "I'm not sure what else you expected out of this." It waves its arms around, gesturing to the blood dried floors, the walls of bones and hair, and the screams of torture in the distance.
    I hold up my hand for the skeleton to stop, and it does, albeit with a begrudging look of annoyance.
    "No, no, no. I can't be dead. I distinctly remember flopping onto...

My Lonely Ruff

    Mommy, I'm scared. Where are you mommy? I've lost Ruff that holds me tight. He's not here mommy. He's not here and I'm so scared.
    The nightlight is on, but it's not working mommy. Please help me mommy. The monsters have come out to play, but I don't want to. The dark crawls across the room, asking me to join it, but I don't want to. Help me mommy, help me.
    Wake up mommy. Please wake up. I need help finding Ruff before it's too late. Before the monsters take me. The darkness turns turns turns around me as I walk to your room and it's scaring me. Mommy please wake up.
    Grubby hands and groans and yawns and mommy please help me find Ruff. Silent feet and bumps in the night, but you say it's only the water going thump thump thump. And there's a moaning coming from the shoe room...

My Lonely Ruff

    Mommy, I'm scared. Where are you mommy? I've lost Ruff that holds me tight. He's not here mommy. He's not here and I'm so scared.
    The nightlight is on, but it's not working mommy. Please help me mommy. The monsters have come out to play, but I don't want to. The shadows crawl across the room, asking me to join them, but I don't want to. Help me mommy, help me.
    Wake up mommy. Please wake up. I need help finding Ruff before it's too late. Before the monsters take me and the shadows sing their song. The night surrounds me like an endless pool of black as I walk to you. Mommy please wake up.
    Grubby hands and groans and yawns and mommy please help me find Ruff. Silent feet and bumps in the night, but you say it's only the water going thump thump thump. And there's a moaning coming...

Freedom in a Sunrise

    She stood there silently, face tilted up towards the sunrise in pure abandon. A soft smile graced her face as she started to walk forward, arms swinging loosely beside her. A breeze caressed and teased her hair, looking like a golden halo in the morning light.
    There was nothing, but bliss running through her mind. Bliss. It was something she hadn't felt in a while with stress wrapped around every corner she turned towards. But today was a special day that only came once a year; the start of summer.
    The sound of night cicadas immediately hushed, as if waiting to see what the girl would do next, now that freedom had arrived like a long awaited party.
    She stopped for a moment at the top of a hill, in awe of the silence, before she launched into a whirl of tumbling and cartwheels, her musical laugh trailing behind her like ribbons as she...

Glitch

There's nothing wrong with m E
m'I fin---e, nothing yuo cant' fix
I've been called a G
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But I'm no-----t
I'm just a bit

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               <Full body scan complete.> 
...
    ...
        ...
            <No other glitches found.>

The Slowly Corrupted Day

    It wasn't as if today had been a bad day. It just didn't make my top ten. Or twenty. Or six thousand four hundred and seventy five days. Ok, so maybe it had been a bad day, but it didn't start out bad.
    On the contrary, it began quite well, if you didn't count waking up way too early for school anyways. Yeah, a six o'clock wake up time doesn't seem very logical to me and it was pure torture to leave my comfy, warm bed before the sun even showed up to the party.
    But got up I did, albeit with many grunts and sighs of annoyance and defeat. It probably helps a bit I don't really care what I wear in the mornings anyway, so shoving on a flannel and jeans really helped improve my morning. A quick brush through my already frizzy hair and I was ready to roll.
    A bus...

The Shackles of a Ruler

    I never wanted to be king. The idea scared me more than anything, but it was the order of how things were. Once I turned eighteen years old, I was shackled for life.
    Maybe that's why I ran away, to the fields and meadows, away from oppressive expectations and belittling words. Away from my scheming siblings who wanted it more than me. Wanted the power and deception of the crown for themselves. The pleasure and pain of the throne.
    Nobody wanted me for the heir anyways. The nobles sneered towards me, pointed noses turned even more upward every time I walked past. The servants watched me with apologetic eyes, doing nothing. Saying nothing. Because that was how they had been taught. How I had been taught.
    I locked myself away and melted the key to my heart, a stoic expression parading around my face in an attempt to look strong. To feel...

Chaos

                                                                                                  Soft?
Loud?                                Masses of color?
            The wisps of freedom snaking through
    Air?      Or   maybe it’s the hints….. Cotton Candy?                      No…. Maybe?
    Spine tingling… yes. but freedom? Freeedom….        There it is, but there it isn’t.     Or?
                    Excitement on  thetipofyourtongue…
Echos? But ...  on drums?      Feet?    No… Music that haunts,  Or?        Yes. No? Yes.
Raising of.  Hair?Feeling?Life?help?    Maybe?NO!YES!  No?    ...   Yes?
                    F
                  A
                        LL
                                           I
                   ...

The Hollowed Tree

    There's a tree in the woods of your backyard that feels more like home than your own sometimes. It's quite a large tree, it's inside hollowed out from years of decay and insects of the invasive, endangering sort and pine needles surround the outside like a barrier from the rest of the world.
    And it truly is a barrier from the life you try to escape every day in the hollowed tree. The peace feels foreign and too quiet. Away from cries of help and shouting and deceptive smiles.
    It's the deceptive smiles that frighten you the most, following after the empty words that sting like millions of tiny paper cuts in your heart. Why does he say such lies to your face? Holding your arm tight in one hand and his belt in another. Why does he say it won't hurt when it does? Every single time, it does.
    The yelling between father...

The Lonely Woods

    Why are you waiting at the edge of the woods?
    Others might think you're suspicious if you stay there, quietly and without a word. But entering the dark, now seemingly gloomy woods seems like a forfeit of life. If you just crept in the opening, a mere few brambles in, you'd blend in all the more and nobody would see you to call you suspicious.
    But what of the dangers? There's a river in the distance, unless the fizzing rush filling the still air is the wolves or the bears, growling at you from inside the darkness. And what of the thorns that tear and scar those who come too close? They're nothing like the roses you grow at home with their bright ruby petals and velvety leaves clashing against the pointed thorns that dazzle with deception.
    You are waiting for a friend, you finally realize. Someone to show you the way to the other side...

The Lonely Woods

    Why are you waiting at the edge of the woods? Others might think you're suspicious if you stay there, quietly and without a word. But entering the dark, now seemingly gloomy woods seems like a forfeit of life. If you just crept in the opening, just a few brambles in, you'd blend in all the more and nobody would see you to call you suspicious.
    But what of the dangers? There's a river in the distance, unless the rumble filling the still air is the wolves or the bears, growling at you from inside the darkness. And what of the thorns that tear and scar those who come to close? They're nothing like the roses you grow at home with their bright ruby petals and velvety leaves.
    You are waiting for a friend, you finally realize. Someone to show you the way to the other side of the woods. But your friend hasn't shown up for...

Talking to “You”

The Small Black Building

    You were told not to look that way. No, not the way where the screams were coming from inside the forest, but the way where the small black building stood innocently on the small knoll of the hill to the east. It seemed to be a silent building that was abandoned long ago, but something in your stomach squeezed tight and shouted how that was wrong. How it looked too pristine and perfect to be abandoned. If only you had listened to your stomach.
    Creeping closer, you noticed a ring of ashes laid around the building in a perfect circle, undisturbed by the wind that suddenly started howling in your ears. Your legs locked up for an instant as if to warn you once again about going even closer. With stomach clenched and legs stiff, you crept forward. If only you had listened to your legs.
    As you reached the door, you ran your hand along...

Talking to “You”

The Small Black Building

    You were told not to look that way. No, not the way where the screams were coming from inside the forest, but the way where the small black building stood innocently on the small knoll of the hill to the east. It seemed to be a silent building that was abandoned long ago, but something in your stomach squeezed tight and shouted how that was wrong. How it looked too pristine and perfect to be abandoned. If only you had listened to your stomach.
    Creeping closer, you noticed a ring of ashes laid around the building in a perfect circle, undisturbed by the wind that suddenly started howling in your ears. Your legs locked up for an instant as if to warn you once again about going even closer. With stomach clenched and legs stiff, you crept forward. If only you had listened to your legs.
    As you reached the door, you ran your hand along...

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