September 18 2014, 07:23 AM

the sky through my window is the same blue as your eyes the last time i saw you and i’ve tried hanging up fairy lights to keep away the darkness but it turns out you lose a lot more than magic when your heart breaks into halves it turns out you can also lose your mind good god but i think i’m still fucked up over you and i have no goddamn right
the sky through my window is the same blue as your eyes the last time i saw you and i’ve tried hanging up fairy lights to keep away the darkness but it turns out you lose a lot more than magic when your heart breaks into halves it turns out you can also lose your mind good god but i think i’m still fucked up over you and i have no goddamn right
September 18 2014, 05:32 AM

Seasons.

wartifact:

Things like love, trust, and compassion was this far-fetched abstraction placed over unrealistic expectations. An illusion I had placed over myself in order to pour out an arbitrary amount of affection no matter how painful it was. I guess it was enough for me at the time, but no longer.

I recall this anecdote I picked up from a religious sermon a while back where the pastor discussed love and infatuation. You place duck tape on your skin and rip it off; it hurts a lot the first time. But as you place that piece of tape over your skin, you’ll find that after a while; the adhesive material would have less of an affect on you, and with it; the pain.

I used to think it was my relationship a couple years ago that drained what felt like a near infinite reservoir of compassion and kindness. Turns out that in retrospect that it stemmed further yet. I was hurt a lot when I was a young boy and it appears that in order to cope with certain levels of pressure, I lied to myself to maintain the person I thought I was.

The seasons of change weren’t too kind in my transition towards becoming what I am now. But after an uncountable number of mistakes; I have finally found the clarity I need to move on towards the next phase in my life. To finally embrace who it is I am becoming and what I need to do to better the world I have immersed myself in.

Obviously this isn’t something that will happen overnight, but I think that in the grand scheme of things in my life; I finally have come to terms with how small and insignificant the strife of my current days have been.

This transition will be no more graceful than the last one, but it’s about time that I make the changes necessary to move on with my life.

And so, a new chapter is beginning where it all started.

September 18 2014, 03:41 AM

I Wish She Loved Me The Way I Loved Her

paulmichaeltranscribed:

I wish she loved me the way I love her.
I wish I was the light that brightened her world.

I wish I was the thought that kept her from sleeping,
And the only one she saw while dreaming.

I would do anything to make her less lonely,
I wish I was her one and only.

I wish it was my embrace she longed to touch,
I wish it were my kisses that meant so much.

I wish I was the smile on her face and gleam in her eye.
I wish I was her everything without having to try.

I wish I was her first thought in the morning, and last one at night.
I wish it was me she turned to when everything wasn’t alright.

I wished she loved me the way I love her, but I can truly see,
Everything my heart feels was never meant to be.

September 18 2014, 01:51 AM

torn

nobodywrotethis:

to feel borderline is too feel all too much or nothing at all
consumed by the hole inside your heart set apart from God the sickness is devastating like needles to your eyes bleeding lies and broken promises
i asked for forgiveness only to sin again and again he wants my soul in hell 
i can hear him laughing now as he speaks of murder and death the devil is on the doorstep and the stars are dead but still they shine from so far away

nobody is perfect
but i am so much worse
a walking dead man content to suffer
let me become another wasted memory
inhaling smoke killing cells and burnt skin
the monster i have become born rejected
i don’t want your pity i hate your pity
can you see oh Lord how far I have fallen from your grace
endless rain to wash away everything word i have spoken in vain

please don’t look for me i am nowhere to be found
open wounds and shattered glass bleeding on the sidewalk
alienated fate a cruel human race how long must I wait 
for the sun the set fire to all the i have come hate
myself, this life, this home, these people, this distance so far
no bridges left to burn, no places left to run, just empty spaces
just another mistake
hollow

alone

forgotten

failure.

September 17 2014, 10:10 PM

Writing Tip: Writing Romance

kibavulpuselunal:

-takes a deep breath and braces for the potential shit storm- 

Alright, so here are my tips on writing romances. Do note, everyone’s idea of romance is different. What some people find as sweet others find as corny. What some people think as hot or sexy, other people find it slutty and promiscuous. HOWEVER…if you are in the process of writing a romance you are pandering (in a sense) to the public as a whole. 

"But Kiba, you just said that there isn’t a sole definition of romance!"

You’re damn right I did. So here’s what I do: use your own. If there’s a question that doesn’t have a right answer, then yours can’t be too wrong (and if it is wrong then people will like that too.) 

The way that I look at romance when I’m writing my stories is that I think of it in terms of “cliches”. I mean, they’re cliche for a reason. It’s because they’ve been overused to the point where they come back around full circle and that’s what most people use to judge romance by. That being said: Often the male (or more masculine) partner has a more protective nature while the female (or more feminine) partner has more of a supportive nature. This formula is basically a magnetic “perfect relationship” attraction that goes for MAXIMUM COMPATIBILITY. And that’s fine. Is it realistic? For some people it is. Is it oppressive? Ha ha…no. 

-takes a knee- Listen kids, oppression is the discrimination of another group by treating them as inferiors in and using that inferiority to gain benefits from that relationship. Being a protective boyfriend does not mean that the boyfriend is oppressing the girlfriend. It means he cares about her so he’s trying to show it by protecting her. This does not mean he sees her as inferior. This does not mean he feels she’s incapable of taking care of herself. It means he’s trying to show commitment by going out of his way to care for her, often preemptively. 

"But what if they’re GOLBAT?" (Gay, omnisexual, lesbian, bisexual, asexual, transgender. I mean come on, that’s an awesome acronym) 

My answer to that? So what if they are? Now, I’m not going to drag out my soapbox here but the fundamentals of love and romance are not based on who they’re between or their gender. What makes good story telling is not who is involved, but how they are involved with one another. 

Don’t believe me? Read “Where the Red Fern Grows” and tell me that boy doesn’t love his dogs. Is it in a sexual way? Absolutely not, but romance is NOT based on sex. 

That being said: when it comes to writing romantic relationships: go crazy. People will argue up and down about whether what you write is romantic, sweet, stupid, oppressive, biased, abusive, misogynistic, prejudiced, homophobic, whatever. What I am saying is IT DOES NOT MATTER. Unless one of your partners is literally beating the ever loving crap out of the other one, what is constituted as romantic depends entirely on the reader. 

So what do I do? 
I enjoy the protective formula. I think it goes back to the classics. The daring knight rides in on a horse, sword drawn to slay the evil dragon and rescue the princess. 

Of course, it’s also good to mix things up a bit. The dragon flies in and eats the knight on the horse before rescuing the princess. The Princess rides in on a dragon and slays the knight before rescuing the horse. The horse rides in on a dragon and slays the princess, rescuing the knight. The Princess rides in on the knight…you know what, never mind on that one. They’re not going anywhere if she’s riding him. 

However, if I were to give any one piece of advice it would be this: Don’t worry about the cliches. They’re classics for a reason. I’ve yet to meet anyone who has had a suitor bring flowers, chocolates and a bubble bath and responded with “How dareth thou bring me this garbarge?!” before swatting the chocolates out of their hands, stamping on the flowers and flipping them the bird. 
(THIS IS NOT A DARE. PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS TO SOME POOR PERSON WHO TOOK THE EFFORT TO DO THAT.)

Point is, like most everything in the world romance is about the journey, not the destination. It’s the forming of a bond that is so strong that it becomes damn near unbreakable by anything. It’s a partnership between two (or more) people that despite all odds and hindrances stays intact. 

The last key thing before I finish this: Every romance ever has had trouble at some point. It is imperative that the romance be a struggle in some way at some time otherwise it will get really boring. It is this struggle that will make or break the romantic aspect, more so than the lovey-dovey bits IMO. 

-takes another deep breath- And done. Just wanted to say, thanks to you guys who have been following this. I’m tempted to kick it up to twice a week now instead of just every Tuesday. If you’re interested in reading my work, you can visit my fan fiction author site:http://www.fanfiction.net/u/3255985/KibaElunal. It’s mostly League of Legends stuff, though I do have a RWBY story if any of you out there are big fans of that. I also like to think that my work is pretty stand alone. It doesn’t require much knowledge of the universes to enjoy the story.

If you want to check out a sample of the novel I am in the process of publishing you can visit my fiction press author site: https://www.fictionpress.com/~kibaelunal

Thanks again everyone, I wish you the best of luck in life and literature. 
-Kiba

Next post topic…Lemon, Smut, and other things that go bump in the night. (NSFW kiddies)

September 11 2014, 02:46 PM
ARTIST:
TRACK:
ALBUM:
3,436 plays
September 11 2014, 12:55 PM

STILL TIME TO SUBMIT

chippedtoothpress:

There’s just over a week left for your submissions to be considered for the October Issue of Insert Lit Mag Here! This month we’ve been searching for work that leaves us SHAKEN TO THE CORE.
You have until September 20th to send writing and visual art submissions to writenowsubmit@gmail.com
You can view our previous issues to get a better idea of what we’re looking for (issuu.com/insertlitmaghere)

September 11 2014, 11:45 AM

Lies and lines are just one letter different
Roped into the borders to keep me in check
With falsities.
What other will you corrupt
Lies behind your smile
Lack of ruth in the truth
Till only a visage remains
Of what once was.

September 10 2014, 01:51 AM

Tar Black and Candy Floss Pink

walcottpoetry:

Finally I feel like

My blouse is fully buttoned

My shoes completely tied

My hair wholly knotted,

Like I can take a step

And extend my leg

Follow it down the

bumps and crevices

Rather than retracting it

And glancing to the side.

I can wear short things

Not extreme but enough

that I can move and

stretch and express what

I’ve wanted to feel all

these years so here it goes—

I want to dye my hair

green and pierce my whole

ear and tell a story on

my skin showing what

I was and where I am

and who I’ll be

I want to wear knee

socks with flip flops and

tank tops with dress pants

and cut my hair so short

you glance twice, like it

hurt for you to see

I want to wear no make

up, full make up, tar black

eyes and candy floss pink

lips and skin so pale

you shiver, so tan you

sweat, so painted you gawk

I want you to see me

and say there she is

with no twinge of praise

or disapproval:

Just arrival

September 09 2014, 01:51 AM

Thank you for being one of my favorite memories.

 - saying goodbye is a bitter candy that never fades in your tongue. - s.p. (via mystrangesilhouettes)
September 08 2014, 08:19 PM

Guns and Coffins

evenhigherwalls:

He felt anything but fear that day, when he got enlisted to fight for the rights of the country where his great great grandparents grew up, where his parents grew up, where he grew up. He knew there was nothing he could do better with his time than be a soldier who will die protecting his fellow countrymen.

It was a moment of urgency. There was no time for proper training and preparation. There was no time left for examinations that tested if you were physically fit for the war or if you were mentally and emotionally prepared to face what was waiting for you beyond the barricades. Everything happened in a blur yet he knew, his soul was molded enough for it. There has always been a desire that welled up inside of him, a desire that made him feel uneasy seating in a corner waiting for bad news to come. He wanted to be part of the team.

They all saw blood, they all shed blood. A lot of them died. A lot of them lost a limb; some of them lost limbs. A lot of them killed. He killed a lot from the other side of the war. There were others who died in their sleep because they couldn’t take the killing. They weren’t strong enough but he was. Death never stopped him. He held on. When he was out there, his mind was only on one thing  shoot and kill — and he never swayed away from it. Killing soldiers from the opponent meant disabling their strength and eventually winning the war. They did win the war and he was one of the many soldiers awarded for their service.

He is a survivor but twenty three years of war doesn’t prepare you for the death of your wife.

September 08 2014, 06:28 PM

hannie-ah:

please don’t cry, please don’t weep
please don’t throw yourself off a cliff
because if that happens who else would i cling
on to when i am again assaulted by a feeling
a feeling like love, like the birds and the bees
oh dear, oh love, you bring me to my knees

September 08 2014, 04:37 PM

stephentkennedy:

If I am never read by another soul,
it’ll be worth knowin’ your eyes have crossed these words.

ain’t like I ain’t got dreams of teachin’,
of passin’ on the passion,
ain’t like I ain’t got dreams,
of makin’ somethin’ of this,
but the worth of it,
that’s in knowin’ that these words speak,
to even one.

hell, sometime I ain’t more than ramblin’,
but I ‘spose that’s what we all got goin’, sometime.
sometime, we’re just a kettle lettin’ off steam ‘til we’re pulled from the flame.
but it’s worth the work,
knowin’ that gamble of the ramble is rollin’ snake eyes on your table,
'cause it's all just luck, sometime,
in gettin’ words to land where they’re wanted.

September 08 2014, 02:54 PM

vetoings:

     I messaged you the other day. Rather, I fumbled about the keyboard with dyslexic fingers and attempted to form something coherent. Of course, it was futile, the words had long left me. I didn’t have anything meaningful to muster nor did I know anything new so I slammed the keys and stung my knuckles. Such a frustrating sensation caused me to ponder as my skin burned ever so slightly… did I prefer physical hurt to my ceaseless rut? Then I came to the conclusion that I am not a masochist but perhaps a melodramatic who’s gone far past knee deep in the ocean of sorrows and let them swallow her up. Or swallowed them up. In any case, I glanced at the screen and hit the backspace.

September 07 2014, 01:51 AM

you were the taste of something sweet
with the foreshadowed promise
of the bitterness that would soon
wash me to sea again.

the nights we spent
beneath blankets-
of clouds and of cloth-
frighten me as much
as they please me
to remember-

the roiling ocean,
lapping at our heels
as we became lovers
under the sky;
the curses and hisses
of an extraterrestrial fire
as you whispered to me
to pay no attention
to the teenagers drunken
on the sand;
to feel your skin
along mine in lines
and your lips,
the same;

the entire inability
to dismiss the songs that
our hearts once sang
as fragmented fantasies
strikes chords of longing
and echolalia in me
as i utter the moans of
the single wolf
aching on the cliffs.

no amount of midnight,
nor any number of stars,
can take me out of the headlights
i walked toward the cars.

i do not know
how to live with you
as much as i do not know
how to live without you;
i am dead,
buried in the earth,
because knowing you
has rendered me
utterly
hollow.

 - melissa elbee, “echolalia” (via writers-sickness)