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I've Never Had A Dream In My LifeA porch. In the middle stands a door. They are old and tattered.
A boy appears from outside the door, running. He is young. About 10. He is very energetic and playful. He immediately runs to the green lawn and starts to skate like a hockey player. He body-checks a few players. He calls out for a pass from his center. He receives it. He skates with the puck around the lawn. He stops, winds up with his imaginary stick and takes a slapper.
Nick: HE TAKES THE SHOT! HE SCOOOOOOOORES!
Nick celebrates around the lawn, running now. He yells at the top of his lungs for a few seconds. He eventually starts to lose speed. He gets tired. Gradually, he comes to a stop. He sits down on the lawn. He is facing the street. He watches as the everyday happenings of his neighborhood unfold before his eyes. He takes everything in. He starts to follow something with his eyes. It is slow, moving from left to right (we know this because his eyes are moving slowly left to right.) He is absolute
Le MoulinThe mill was a two century-old structure that housed the lives of seven generations of the Petite family. It sat on the Tarn River, just outside the peaceful village of Sainte-Enimie. The wood that made up the seemingly ancient structure was old and decaying, like I. Planks of wood would often break off the walls, the ceiling, and even the watermill itself. Every day I feared that one of the planks would hit me, but they never did. I never knew why they never did.
Prior to my time in the Petite mill, I had lived a life void of religion. My parents were both devote to their religion, and I was obligated to join them for mass every Sunday. Surrounded by stain glass windows and the silence of those kneeling and praying around me, I would do the same. However, with not many thoughts in my mind to God, it was really out of obligation that I prayed along with everyone. These actions were meaningless.
When I started to live on my own, I dropped any remnant that was left of religion in my life
StarStar above that shines so bright
Won’t you give me your sweet light?
You are so far away above the sky
Yet you are so close to my sad eye
Tie me to my waist and pull me there
I’ll leave all my friends, I don’t care
Give me the happiness I’ve always deserved
Give me the happiness I’ve always preserved
Yes you’re dead and that’s a shame
I didn’t even get to know your name
But pull me up and let me smile
And let me stay, for a little while
David's Tea employee vs. the WorldSure, most of the time they beat you to the punch. But once in a while you manage to get in there and shout it out before they're done...
"Can i quickly buy a cup of tea??".
The woman looks at me with her lazy eyes. Obviously wanting to go home, she slowly goes back behind the counter. Forgetting that a polite employee is supposed to respond to such a question,, she quickly looks up and says "Sure" with no genuine kindness whatsoever. I do not blame the girl. She probably had a shitty day at work, and wanted to get the hell out of her place of work.
"Sorry", I say with complete sympathy.
"Oh don't even worry about it."
She sends a fake smile. The lack of squint under her beautiful green eyes would make it obvious to anyone. I walk up to the counter and scan the wide selection of teas displayed. I dare not ask her what she recommends. She looks at her watch.
"Okay", you say in your head, "You're here for tea, not to sympathize. Do I want want white? Or black? Maybe oolong will do
Seven women sat in a circle'Seven women sat in a circle. One felt the wind blowing. Another...'
3: Two? What are you so sad about?
5: I don't think she's sad, my dear Three. She's......
7: Oh, One. Always on the pleasure. Always searching enlightenment through pleasure. Sixty-nine has really had an influence on you.
2: Oh my.....
4: Two? Can you tell us what is bringing about such pleasure?
6: It's not pleasure! You dirty girl! It's...
*Everyone is silent*
2: Oh...my. Oh my. I am so sorry. I don't know what went over me! I just had the most wonderful feeling in the world.
1: You were thinking about Twenty-Three weren't you...hah
2: No! No! I was not thinking. But I was feeling. I felt an invisible cold force pressed against me. It was delightful!
5: Invisible cold force? My dear, we have another word for sudden physical pleasure in this circle...
2: No! It wasn't that! It felt as if every pore on my face had opened by this...force... and had released a chilling vibe!
3: Oh m
BeckyToothpick in her mouth, sunglasses covering a large portion of her freckled face, Becky Daunt knew exactly what she was going to do once she woke up this fine morning. Maybe it was the fact that it cut down a surprising amount of daily expenses, or maybe it was because of the sheer thrill that it brought her; stealing toilet paper was a hidden joy of Becky's, and this morning will be the morning to do it. Ryerson University made it so simple and easy; it would be a shame if it weren't shamefully stolen. And the rolls! They lasted for weeks!
Becky entered her destination, Balzac's Cafe (located in the Image Arts building), and went straight towards the ladies washroom without breaking stride.
It was full of women. Becky's heart periodically dropped. She had never seen this many women in the washroom before. There were almost 10 women. She took a deep breath. It was a good thing. It was a good thing because it would be more difficult to hear her theft occurring over the chatter. There we
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
The MoveThey all say to live in the moment
They all say to look forward to the future
But no one ever says to live in the past.
I suppose they have a good reason not to
The past is a place you were once in
And will never be in again.
The past is a place where poor souls go to find comfort
These poor souls find that their souls become poorer
Once they return to their poor present.
They are then left with a feeling of longing
A feeling of longing that nothing can satisfy
Nothing, other than their past.
I live in my past.
I gently swim in the contents of my mind
I swim in a place where I am engulfed by a sea of memories
Memories that give me feeling I once felt
Feelings I cannot feel today.
I love being in that sea.
I feel I belong in that sea.
I do not swim for long, though.
I wake up, far away from where I was a moment ago
My feelings of bliss are quickly replaced with depression
A depression brought from hopeless longing
And a feeling of misplacement.
The present is not something I can escape
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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