"I can't do this."
Claim in your [own] words
(weakness of the positive/negative)
Questions from the judge(andjury)
"And the court decides..."
The Suicide of the VirginAugust is the cruelest month, breeding
Cypress on the campus, mixing
Change and unfamiliarity, stirring
Poison into these drinks.
The promise of demise kept my heart warm, covering
Sorrow with plastered smiles, feeding
An insightful mind with rotting tubers.
Death came quickly, jumping from the highest building.
In that soft rain; I came to a halt on the concrete,
My memories of you in the sunlight, my last thoughts,
And how we sat in the stairwell, for hours talking.
Wie werden uns wiedersehen.
When I was young, staying with my grandfather,
Poor widower, he took me on a walk,
and I was happy. He said, Maria,
Maria, listen to me. And he told me never to fear death.
For it is inevitable, a part of life.
I went home and contemplated what it meant to die.
Why does this feeling clutch at my heart, why does it grow
from what was once full of love? I am but a daughter of man.
And I know not much more than the fact
that I am broken, an image of what has been.
And death merely gives the
WretchWretched soul, wretched soul.
The clock strikes four-
but never moves.
You look to the window,
for the ones you have lost
(begging for the pity of your womb).
Alone you'll perish;
Empty as a dusty cellar.
And although the fault lies with only you,
it is something you shall never understand.
:R a i n:The rain fell endlessly from the sky, each drop rhythmically hitting the old roof. It was especially audible from the attic in which I sat, watching the rain hit the lake from the singular, cracked window in the dusty room. Slowly, I traced nonsensical figures on the window, using the fog made from my damp breath as a form of paint. Staring at it for a moment, I suddenly became incredibly unhappy at my art and wiped it away with my jacket sleeve.
That was when I noticed a figure walking to the lake shore, small from where I sat but seemed like a girl in her late teens. Slowly, ever so slowly, she walked into the water, until she was waist deep. She looked to the sky, her now sopping wet hair sticking to her face. Thinking back, she seemed to gather some form of… Courage from whatever she found in that rainy sky, before she peacefully sank into the water. The villagers didn’t find her until it was much too late.
“That’s the fifth one this year,” I murmured
WinterThese oceans of blood,
consuming my soul.
Like sheep to the slaughter,
fear seeps into my bones.
I ponder the meaning of the few
seconds my life is
in the wake of these magnificent
my pockets are empty and my
mind is blank.
GrudgeMonsters crawl from the depths
of my soul.
I find my mind cannot take the horror
of years past,
while my heart pleads for silence
[that I can't find]
A step above the restLook down at me from above
(atop that towering plain) -
and wonder why all those ants
gnaw at you 'till you're falling like a
wave crashing to the shore
of some long-lost
my sun-bleached bones lay upon the
Forgotten HallsAn ancient, sprawling maze to me,
Familiar as I grew;
It housed the rise of many
And saw the doom of few.
Never did I stop to think
Of those that came before;
All I saw was my own path,
My own tracks on the floor.
And now I see it once again
Its age making it new,
Strangers faces alien
The air of nineties, too.
I stood there when they tore it down,
Laughing with my friends.
Not once did I stop to mourn
The era come to end.
How to Live in 2015Be born. That’s the easy part.
Beg for new toys or take someone else’s.
It doesn’t matter. Being selfish as a child is normal.
Being selfish as an adult is normal.
Get dirty. Stop taking everything
so seriously. You’re going to die.
Don’t worry, everybody does it.
Don’t fall in love, love is not a hole
to fall into. Run into love, headfirst.
Bite your tongue until
you can taste the word no.
Give away your secrets under a pseudonym
for someone else to sell.
Chop off your arms and legs to pay for college,
realize tuition rates doubled.
Get a degree. Find a job. Hate your job.
Find a vice. Keep it closer than your breath.
Find God in an alleyway.
Lose God like a set of keys.
Die and be reborn as a memory.
Die and be reborn as an afterthought.
Die and be forgotten.
Things they don't tell you.Thngs they don’t tell you about losing your grandfather on a Tuesday night:
When you wake the next morning, you still
need to get out of bed in time for work, you still
have to shower, dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush
your teeth and hair;
and when your mother calls
to check in, you have to comfort her because she lost
her dad last night;
and when you call your grandmother
your voice cannot waver lest you upset her, because
she lost a man she's known for seventy years and even
though she would never hold it against you, you still
feel obligated not to cry;
and when you sit down
to do your job, you will have to do it with all your heart
because if you can
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
PastRevoke your “was”–
Consign me not to “had” and “did”
But rather “does.”
I contain the infinite
–”Contain,” not “contained”–
And speak, soak, suffer, sit
In tongues newly-born that strain
After mine and sense that my
“Lives,” “breathes,” “dies,” “loves”
Expand into multitudes greater than
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
letters to nobodyi said I don’t want to
get out of the warmth of
this bed but in truth i
didn’t want to wake up.
last night i read until
i was drunk and in the
morning i did it again
so that i would not have
to deal with the hangover.
escapism; i am an alcoholic
who does not know what they
are running away from.
i said I write like this
because I like lapslock but
in truth i was afraid that
this raw thing in my brain
would not be so pretty with
the rough edges sanded smooth.
i put down words until there
was only me and you and my
line to the world went dead.
i want to die, one day.
in the meantime, i can only
live a skinny life so there
are less strings to cut
when we get there.
i said This is the world –
you are here and i pointed
to the emotional equivalent
of the middle of nowhere.
you are replaceable, even to
i know this because sometimes
i put you in my place, and
but the thing is, somebody
has to fill this spot, and
nobody else is
The Doner 7/27/15
I've had a good life.
I have no regrets.
It's time for me to die.
What will be my legacy?
These are things I wonder.
How will I be remembered?
Who will mourn me?
Have I done enough?
Did I appreciate the air I breathe?
So I made a decision.
A choice of the heart.
When I die I will donate
parts of me.
Parts I hold dear.
If in the future I can be helpful
to someone who is without - that will
be my purpose.
My corneas, which helped me view beauty
and ugliness in this world.
I will give to someone who can't see.
Maybe they have been blind all their
life or maybe it's new and it kills them.
If I can give them a glimpse of what
I saw then I will die with a grin on my face.
My lungs ( although I had asthma and suffered
occasionally when I was young ) could
breathe new life into a child or
a person with emphysema.
Maybe they will be thankful for a second chance.
And finally my heart. Which now beats faster
knowing my fate. I don't wish to die.
But the cancer is coursing throug
Is It Love?If I hugged you,
would you never let go?
If I kissed you,
would you cherish that moment?
If I reached for your hand,
would you take mine gently?
If I needed a shoulder,
would you let me cry on yours?
If I needed to talk,
would you really listen?
If I needed to scream,
would you do it with me?
If I needed to go,
would you come with me?
If I fell for you,
would you catch me?
or just let me hit the pavement?