youre looking at me
from across the room
you wish you could speak
but I dont know if I should
youre looking at me
youre acting out for my attention
why are you getting in my way
Im trying to get out of here
my heart beats as your on the stage
oh my dear you look so lovely
cant believe im still hung up on this
why are you making this so hard on me
this isnt love its just nostalgia
a love of my past and wishful thinking
this isnt love its a wish upon a star
micheal j had it too easy
girl look at you
we need to put the fire out of your hair
girl look at me
my hearts in need of extinguishing
This isnt you
this is me
torn up
I saw her and she me. A smile crept on her face, but I still had no idea what to do yet. Slap on the default smile and overly excited face that you use to greet everyone, then, i say to myself.
She gets happy and comes up to hug me. I'm never one to turn down a hug these days, I've sort of come up with the persona of a lady's man thanks to this ridiculous book i read. But who knows. It's probably in my head.
But she hugs me. And in that moment, one fraction upon fraction upon fraction of a second, our bodies pretend for just that moment that everything is bliss. Nothing to worry about, you have someone to hold. And after that second is over
she stared into the mirror, face to face with the one thing that made her happy and sad at the same time. It was a reminder that she was loved, and a reminder of the guilt she had.
The glass cracked under her head when the two shook hands and her eyes were closed and she knew that it was painful but she couldn't feel anything yet. She will though, she isn't that heartless.
And so the mirror will forgive her, because in time he knew she would come back to put back the pieces, even if a long time passed.
PercytheCadavrMachne-chapter1 by Hydralisk5201, literature
Literature
PercytheCadavrMachne-chapter1
Percy Gibbons and the Extraordinary Cadaver Machine
Chapter One
On a cold February's morning (or was it afternoon, that he could not tell) Mister Percey Gibbons awoke very peculiarly. Usually he awoke face down in his pillow (usually a wet spot on his cheek from overnight drooling), but now he found himself face up. But this did not jostle him in the slightest at this present moment in the time line of this tale, his first thought being “Oh my. I have forgotten to buy flowers for Valentine's Day.” Not that Percey had anyone to give these flowers to, he just bought them to put in an overly average vase in his overly average apa
She lies
on my bed
a reminder
hopes a demon
illuminating
so little
shes a light
and Im damn kerosene
chorus:
danger, danger
yellow truth
a light lying
in the middle
it goes on
forever
whats the ending like
Ive only heard
Shell stand
behind the curtains
of my heart
never enter stage
I cant
submit her to
the ending
the inevitable
chorus
>>
show me a dead
show me a dead
give me a damn dead ending
>
than an exit to this hole
chorus
show me an ending
give me an ending
just end it all
tonight
His head shrunk, or felt like it, since the world around him seemed to grow, surprisingly even his body, most notably his hands; in this shrinking his head tilted towards the ground and he stared at his feet, every single scratch and dent in his boots seemed to scream to him and laugh at his face, every pore on the concrete floor below and the rocks protruding from such illuminated in an orangish-yellow glow against the streetlight and the cold darkness of the nighttime. He liked feeling small, just the ability to be different even in that aspect, or maybe it was just being alone altogether, empowered him in some sick and twisted way; only po
It all began when he closed his eyes. The dreams, the folklore, the beauty. If only it was as real as the death that laid before him. For so long he had wished that the earth died, but now that it had come true he missed it all. For every tear he cried every night before he slept, he remembered a face, and with each face erupted a deep sense of fear and guilt and melancholy loomed over him, and another tear came out; this process continued until he found himself awake the next morning, the only memories still being faces, beautiful faces he onced loved or hated. But all the faces were human, and now they were dead.
He stopped himself from w
Serenity
why does your name sound so sweet
when in truth, it hides the feeling
the feeling of the nothing it holds
Complacency
if everyone were held aloft in it
one would want to go nowhere
leaving our human advancements stagnant
Oh, why are emotions so softly bitter
as they hide their true meaning and gesture
Why do some seem bad and others good
when in fact, they never ever could
Why oh why are emotions so existent?
making our lives so dreading persistent?
Why do emotions hold us to their will?
making us obey, taking every pill.
Every pill
every swallow
every drug that we take
every mind
every mouth
every life that we t
Again and again I'll ask myself:
Why did you have to go?
And again and again I'll remind myself:
I'll always love you forever more
You've left me twice and twice before
Your empty heart and my weeping eyes
This time you leave with love for me
What am I to do? What am I to do but cry, cry, cry again
Yuma don't take him away; don't take him away from me
Yuma don't take it away; don't take my heart from me
It's not like much could be done for this
Promises torn apart and tears run cold
Yuma don't take us away
Yuma, Yuma
I guess it couldn't be stopped; it was doomed from the start
You'd be moving soon away from me
Fate must want u
I got a muse today. I will write a film-noir esque series about.. idk yet! but heres a preview:
Stood over the dead body like a statue.
A statue of victory
A statue of pain
A statue of vengeance
The berretta burned in my right palm, Justice had become too just for me.
I dropped the gun, it slowly fell to the floor and once it had it clanged loudly in my head, bringing me visions.
I fell to my knees and cried out in pain as I relived my death three years ago. The pain knocked me down to my palms. My arms gave way and my elbows hit the concrete so hard they began to bleed profously just like the bullet wounds in my chest, pouring life