Katrinadoesntknow

He 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 company. She would always be ill because the sea never sits still, And he would always be as quiet as a warm mountain breeze. 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.

Holding 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 t

Her slender body, Inviting long curving vines, Intoxicating.

Not 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.

Dear 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 impact. "You're an illusion. Nothing but 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?' "Ha, jokes. Twisted and silver Just like the reflection of yo

He was born without the restriction of a heart, he was free from the consciousness of morality and sanity. But, whether he liked to acknowledge it or not, he had a soul. In the end he will get all the punishment his heartless self condemned him to. He didn't care, but then again why should he? He knew what it took to get ahead in a world like this; just use the right people and let the right people use you. His motto was never show your underbelly while sinking your teeth into as many as you can. Leave a lasting impression, a permanent scar across their memory that will forever resemble your name. In this world the threat of hell doesn't sca

He wasn't my type in any way but he's everything I wanted to experience. Just once. Is that asking too much? He wasn't permanent and that's exactly what I was looking for. Back against the wall and gripped by gentle hands in a stone stance that refused to give an inch. Escape, I can hear the laughter in rattling the back of his mind. I stare into eyes so dark I couldn't tell where the iris ends and the pupil begins. But they were everything but soulless. His smile playful and daring. I smiled wider. "I can get out." I whispered, taunting him as I lightly slid my teeth across the side of his neck. He pushed me harder against the wall.

Her lungs became iron balls that forgot they knew how to expand. They tried to recycle the rotting carbon dioxide circling through her system, pleading that this poison will revive her parched blood cells- (Little specs of dust, that once carried very code that gave her life, greedily soak up the carbonic acid as if it will restore their died up walls.) The air sacs in her lungs fill with water as she drowns herself in thoughts of him. (But she lost the right to ask for heaven's help Because she had too many chances to make it right.) Images of him fogged her mind like little feet kicking up mud from the bottom of a pond. Stirring up