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Worlds DividedHe was a man of the mountains.
Surrounded by evergreen trees,
But his heart belonged to a
lady who was meant to be
part of the sea.
Everyday she would long for
the ocean spray
and he was meant to be
in the mountain misery's
She would always be ill
because the sea never
And he would always be
as quiet as a warm
If she abandons the sea for
the constant breeze she will
always be longing
for what was meant to be.
The soothing sound of the never ending sea.
He Used To LaughHolding his hands was like holding an empty sack. All the meat under his skin faded away with time, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of his body caught up. He was dying but that tends to come along with his age. He carried all the evidence of a long life. The tales of hard times etched in his face like an old newspaper that’s been wrinkled and yellowed over the years. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was smiling. It’s been years since I’ve seen him smile.
I knelt beside his bed, holding his empty sacks that somehow still had the strength to grip onto my hands. “It’s still not too late to go to the hospital.”
He tried to laugh but it sounded more like a huff of air. “There’s no need to prolong the inevitable. I’m dying, I’d much rather do it in the comfort of my own home.”
Such a stubborn old man, there’s no use in arguing with him. “Why did you want to talk to me?”
A Bedtime Story - The RingingOnce upon a time the world was normal. Every person went about their business without a care in the world. Then one day the earth started to ring loud. No one knew where this loud sound came from but it was everywhere. They couldn’t escape it in their homes, cars, or even their heads. It was so loud that they could barely hear each other talk.
People began to lose their minds. They couldn’t take this constant ringing. Ringing, ringing that never stopped. All day all night, no break in between just a constant ringing coming from something unseen.
People started to fight and wage wars. They cried and cursed that sound. Eventually they grew used to the sound. They carried on with their lives. They went to work, they married, had kids, who eventually grew up and had kids of their own. Generation after generation knowing nothing but this worldly ringing sound. One day after decades, all everyone knew was the Ringing. Not a single person was alive before it started.
Feral BoozeNot a single light was on inside my house.
Empty beer bottles glistened like feral cat eyes whenever the phone from my light passed over them. Somewhere from the back of the house I could hear the distinct laughter from a t.v audience booming.
I stepped over one body on the floor and another. Then I stepped on someones hand but they remained motionless. A putrid smell that somewhat resembled shrimp and whiskey emanated from my bathroom along long with a new coat of puke painting the door.
My brother must have had an awesome twenty-first birthday party.
Slivers of SilverDear Capillaries,
'…No one laughs at jokes anymore
But tragedies; they can bring a tear to your eye and uncontrollable laughter from your mouth.'
"You were never one to resist a good laugh."
Feet rooted in place, eyes shifting as fast as the breeze blowing
by, trying to evaporate into the air,
nothing left for
"You're an illusion.
Shimmering slivers of silver."
(Body trembling like a mirage, only steady if seen from a distance.)
'I am what you make me, I merely show what you
need me to be. Reflect on me.
Now tell me, do you like what you see?'
Twisted and silver
Just like the reflection of your smile."
'My silver grin has no worth, as reflective as the moon illuminating the night but giving off no light of its own.
If that's all you see,
maybe you're as twisted and silver as me.'
Death isn't a fresh perspectiveI saw my mother
swallowing something small
when I was just a child
The anguish in her eyes
faded, as she told me
it was just a
with a little extra kick
maybe years later,
that's how I convinced
to swallow fifteen,
give me a fresh perspective;
in the end,
my breath reeked
instead of mint.
fall in love with (splitting hairline fractures)we swallow blues instead
of talking them out. oh,
kids like us are specters,
spectacles: boys counting
rib(cage)s & (de)composing
don't you hate
is a vessel
we're deities or tomb-raiders; no
in-betweens for writers these days
Dark SideThere's another side of me
A side I barely show
It's my dark side
And my pride
The time I showed it to my friends
They were shocked, worried
I will tell you what they said
Decide for me
If these are what you call
One said 'just be happy'
One said 'that isn't true!'
One said ' but I've got it much worse'
One said 'don't be annoying'
One said nothing at all
Only One listened
That could be you
This is my dark side
The one that tells the truth
It makes me write
It keeps my dreams
It is everything I have
But no one knows
i'm not going to lie and say she was perfect.her skin was spotted with what she passed off as freckles,
but what were really scars from a thousand summer suns
as she ran about outside,
climbing trees and treading rivers,
pretending to be an american bomber
in the midst of WWII.
she kept crimson stains on pearl pink lips,
which always had the habit of getting on her teeth
because she put on make-up after dressing in her car
and ordering coffee in every way she hated it
as she drove to the record store three times a day,
ignoring her job downtown.
she owned four and a half hairbrushes exactly,
i took count on the first night i stepped into that whirl-wind room,
though her lopsided up-dos of messy blonde hair revealed just how much her fingers
never broke the dust.
she had these lovely fragile hands
that showed each and every vein and bone,
the type of hands made for tearing boys like me apart.
how could i have even expected to survive,
a paper poet
held against a reckless flame?
I died todayI died today
Took my own life
I was tired
I was desperate
And now I'm dead
People never cared
So I left them behind
Now a new life awaits
Beyond the gates of Hell
each kiss carries
context and content,
sad eyes pour into mine
like a swimming pool
being filled with angels’ tears.
i cup her face in my hands,
trying to hold all of the water
that escapes her
as i gently kiss her forehead.
i will cradle her cerebrum
and maintain our composure.
i will protect you.
refers to the hands on a clock,
as well as the anatomical.
and this kiss is subtle,
but it represents our passing of time.
i started this with my mother at 13,
and only a few embraces away from 18.
with our fingers locking
themselves to adolescence.
i never have visibly blushed,
but i swear my flushed cheek
burned where your left your lips
for nearly a lifetime.
at least that’s what it felt like.
i kissed the blinds
that covered the windows
of your soul
to let you know
the sun still shone
even if your eyes were close
bone brittlethey say that love is like an ocean and you can feel the waves
filling up your stomach, saltwater rolling against your nervous system.
they say that when you're in love and you curl your toes in pleasure
you can feel wet sand between them, warm against the skin.
but your love was like a desert.
our love left me parched, throat raw, the taste of grit in my mouth.
my stomach empty, growling for some sort of sustenance,
something you always refused to give me when i needed it most.
you told me you loved me, like a mirage floating amongst our heat.
if love is like an ocean then you were loneliness, i guess.
every saltwater tear you cried evaporated into thin air.
you were the Sahara and i was the Atlantic.
we collided every time we met.
Killing Stars And if it's the stars that shine for you
I will wipe them from the sky.
Thrashed, frayed wings beat
against the still air.
Smoke dances in circles around
the swirling currents
Burning words flood from my mouth
Scorching intricate patterns
across the stricken sky.
Suffocating the dimming stars.
You held everything in your hands
And I'm glad to be the one to throw
It all away. Destroying the empire
That is your existence.
I told you if it's the stars that shine for you
I will wipe them from the sky.
A Guide to Writing DialogueWhat is dialogue, exactly? The definition from Merriam-Webster’s dictionary was several lines long, so I shall summarize it in a short sentence for the sake of the readers; it’s the writing that illustrates conversations between two or more characters in a story. We read and hear it all around us, but creating it in your own work can be a challenge. However, if you find dialogue an obstacle in your writing, then don’t push the panic button. In this tutorial, you’ll find by analyzing what dialogue can do and how to use it, you can turn your greatest fear into your greatest ally in your story.
What dialogue is
Like I’ve asserted before, dialogue is basically what the characters are saying to each other. It can be found in multiple mediums such as books, movies, comics, video games, etc. We even engage in dialogue daily without even thinking. When you talk to your best friend, a co-worker, or even your dog, you create dialogue. It’s exchang
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