[x]

The Bone CollectorSometimes my breath catches in my throat
and the very stillness of an earth going
a thousand and three miles per hour
gets lodged there.

Sometimes these simple exchanges
leave me breathless, croaking on dust:
the unfiltered pigments of other people's skin
and blood and ash

but with my tarred lungs and itchy eyes
I sit and sift through charcoaled remains,
alphabetising them from c to c. I am lost
in a world charred brazen.

Many things I have loved have turned to ash.
Many people. I was naive enough to think
that there was some perfect nutritional truth
that could outlast hell-fire.

I claw through a world turned ashen
and know those dead

Divination as a Means of Finding a Way Back              1.  I say nothing I am thinking.

For twelve years I have wanted
to do exactly this, but suddenly
pronouncing my own name calls up
the question of who it belongs to
in the same breath Like
Solomon I was born a singer
but in the wrong key and my
chords will not carry me, will not
summon the wolves to me only
packs of hungry dogs
stupid with domestication
but nearly feral And like
a hungry ghost I have learned
not to speak against those
who will give me food

             2. A sketch of myself.

                                 He says I must have been born
in the wrong culture, he says. I got a taste of
the crack

Romano x Blind!Reader“Ready?”
“Ready!”
Matthew runs through the halls, caring you on his back. You where flapping your arms in all directions not caring about falling off, both laughing uncontrollably. You came up with a brilliant prank to pull on everyone at school. Since Matthews was “invisible” to everyone, or so you’ve heard, why not make everyone think there’s a girl flying around school? Perfect, no?
All eyes were on you, the halls filled with silence except for both Matthews and your laughter.
“I-is …is she….. Flying?” someone mumble. You couldn’t help but laugh harder at this. You wish you could see their faces but sadly you couldn’t. You were blind. But that didn’t stop you from having fun. It

april 18th, 2012.therapy:
"I'm not an artist. I'm just a kid with a keyboard."

“And, y'know, I’m probably not really sick.”

“I read a lot of books. I probably just act like this because I saw it somewhere on the Internet.”

“I just want to be more like my dad.”

“I’m really just a pathological crybaby who wants attention,” I tell you.

You say, “I think there are better ways to get attention than fake a mental disorder.”

“Maybe I’m doing it for fun.”

Charlie,
The problem isn’t that I need to see a therapist.
The problem is that I need to see a therapist because

NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heart
beat,
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
flesh,
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
corruption.

And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
smile,
dug your bloodstained claws into your
chest,
and tore out that infestation you called a
soul.

"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
sneered,
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
taste,
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
pulse."

I could only watch as you sunk back down into
Hell,
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
hazardously,
knowing you had replaced my heart with the pois

July the seventh"The End," Lucy sighed as she closed the thick hard bound book in her hands.

Turning it over on her lap so that the hunter green cover was facing her, the young woman smiled as her right index finger traced the golden etched letters at the bottom of the bookcover. 'Lucy Heartfilia' it read. She furrowed her brow for a moment and wondered if perhaps she should have used her current name instead of her maiden name. Given the inscription on the inside dedicating the book to her parents, though, Lucy felt it was only proper. Besides, it wasn't like her husband cared much which name she went by.

"haha, that idiot," she smiled, bringin

-We had our first rain today;
it fell like mist and the smoke fled from
the hills after its wildfire father
faded out.

My bones sigh,
and I welcome Winter in.

Desperation.I have been
eating the flesh of
my face enough
nights to know
that there is
no way out of
these nightmares.

-I'm clinging on for dear life
to life and love,

but my hold
is slipping and
my mind is
too.

Equally Returned (RomaniaxReader)Equally Returned
RomaniaxReader
Request for Frenzydaydreamer11

You were cold to him, he was cold to you. Neither one of you even attempted to talk to the other, and you were ok with that. It was nice to finally have someone respect your choice to work alone and stay quiet as opposed to getting a big group and never actually accomplishing anything.

He was one of those people who could probably tell a life story by a person’s eyes, so you avoided him, as well. You didn’t want anyone involved in your life. Especially the strawberry blonde boy in your fourth period History class.

Thursday was always your favorite day because you

Beauty and the Beast Chapter 1

It was cold. That was one way of putting it. You were surrounded by whiteness. Snow you assumed. Being that it was cold and falling all around you. You were standing in the middle of no where. No matter where you looked all you saw was white and snow falling in front of you. You shivered quite a bit, you soon found out why. You looked down to see yourself in a sleeveless white wedding dress. It was beautiful and elegant looking. But no where near the appropriate clothing for where you were.

'Where am I anyways? How did I get here? Why am I dressed like this?' You thought as you held your arms for warmth. Your teeth chattered as you stood th

Catch Me if I Fall

A soft mew came from beside you. Looking down to your right you noticed the small kitten. It large honey hued eyes looked lovingly at you. Smiling you picked the small creature up and placing her in your lap gently.

"Did you have fun chasing the butterfly Athena?" you asked the small kitten, her response a soft mew.

You had be given the small kitten only a few weeks ago as a birthday present from your friend Heracles. Both of you shared a love for cats, and you had always had your eye on the little rascal. You stroked the top of Athena's head earning purrs from the feline. Athena jumped out of your lap and began to pad around the grass you

No Longer Invisible [Romano x Shy!Reader]There he is. Lovino Vargas. The hottest guy in class. The guy that every girl wants.

Here I am. [First Name][Last Name]. That one person who’s never really noticed by many. Due to my shyness, people notice Matthew Williams more than me…

Once again, I watch as girls flock towards the Italian. Most of them are wearing tight shirts, others wearing short skirts. They’re desperate to get his attention. So desperate, that they’ll wear the sluttiest clothes to get a reaction out of them. And the worst part about this, he actually notices. Lovino tends to flirt. With just about every pretty girl.

But this time was differen

Male!BelarusxReader: Necessities Omake

Nikolai woke to find his cheek pressed against white sheets that smelled of citrus, realizing with a start that he must have fallen asleep while watching over his girlfriend in the hospital. Feeling a little disoriented and groggy, he blinked a few times before raising his head to look around, squinting against the sunlight streaming in between the curtains. Outside, the bustle of people and traffic drifted in from the half-open window, and in the background, the machine that was hooked up to his girlfriend beeped every few minutes, rhythmic in a comforting way. He stifled a yawn, stretching his arms over his head, and then turned his attenti

Part 1: Getting Introduced (Europe Reader)Belgium stood up, not that it helped shushing her fellow countries of Europe. "Guys...." she began, but quickly realised it was useless. She shot a pleading look at Germany who got the hint and barked at the others to make them quieten down.

Smiling in gratitude she cleared her throat, addressing them. "I'd like to tell you all that we've got a special guest today. I'm not sure if you know who it is, but well, it's the personification of Europe. Pretty much our parent!" She told them, grinning.

France flipped his hair. "Probably some old guy, who's going to tell us all about how 'strong' he was in his hay-day."

"Wait, you're him?" England

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"No."

"Okay then, the truth is I kissed you. Plain and simple, right? Well then, now this is settled I have a lunch that needs to be eaten, so, see ya."

"Not so fast," she said, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt.

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A Kiss Started It All- PreludeSometimes a kiss can lead to so much more. That's a lesson I learned, the hard way.

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Cover UpTick tock. Tick tock. Her eyes moved to the direction of the ticking clock. She put down her pencil and stretched. The room was pitch black except for the places the little lamp on her desk reached. She preferred the solitude and darkness of the night compared to the day. Inspiration would always come to her at this time. Anyways she thought I need to get back to work.

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A little boy stood at the front of the line, holding his hands tightly. He looked scared to come close to me, though from my experience, most kids are like that at first. I'm pretty sure I was too. His mother pushed him forward and helped him onto my lap.

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I love You, I Hate You - Ch 6 ~~: 15 Years Previous :~~

"Jun! Let's play! Let's play! Come on," she ordered, pushing on the lump underneath the covers. "What's with you? You're usually waking ME up!"

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The covers came off the the lump. "Two? Already? I guess I better get up," he said, moving under the covers. "Or maybe you should just come and sleep with me!" he yelled, grabbing the girl and pulling her under the covers with him.

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Writers and Poets

by ~TheMadHattersCup, Dec 26, 2012, 2:01:12 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

“Why are you a poet?”

“I’m not a poet.”

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

“A word-rhymer, a heart-breaker, a word master. I could go on for a very long time, you know?”

“Oh, I know.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because I’m not a writer.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

“I am a word slinger, a heart’s reflection, a person maker, a story teller. I can go on you, know?”

“Indeed, you are not a writer.”

“Nor are you a poet.”

“We’re much more than that.”

“We’re the guides to our worlds.”