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Basic journeySo I was at my college school and all was well until two men starting firing guns on students. Or at least they were until right after two secret agents showed up and began to put a stop to them. Oddly enough, time was reversed back to when all was well and then instead of firing guns the two men were tossing small rocks, pebbles really, into the air that would kill or wound people if they were hit by them. I tried to engage one of the men, but they took me down and I had to flee. Before escaping with other people, I grabbed my phone and my sweater knowing the journey would be long. We all walked in a line as the men, who had increased from two to perhaps a hundred, were five to ten paces right behind us. I tried running, as did others, but our bodies as well as the crazed men’s bodies were weak and we had to walk most of the time which lead to one of us being caught and killed every so often. However, I discovered that I could run “backwards”, with my back turned whe
Simple desires.Yes, I love to see you after I open my eyes.
Yes, your smile warms my heart.
Yes, my hand firmly grasps yours.
Yes, our lips are an inch from a kiss.
Yes, we walk at our casual pace.
Yes, make small talk throughout the day.
Yes, drawn out stares into each other's eyes.
Yes, pecking lips in public; romancing kisses in private.
Yes, separate ways to fulfill personal duties.
Yes, trust for another rarely fleeting.
Yes, surprise gifts.
Yes, blissful trips.
Yet no, dark days ever near.
Yes, strength is within.
No, patience worn thin.
No, unpleasant rest.
No, weeping noons.
And yes, full of delight.
Yes, two-way boon.
Yes, we will fight and I can see you getting more furious with me as I make a common mistake even though I have all the right to call you out on your defaults in equal complaint for these many days of our time together as our bond becomes ever more tense with each troubling day ahead to come or so we can only assume AND-
I LOVE YOU.
Diminished Part two. bPedestrians begin to fill the streets as the city awakens. Nigel pulls up to a four way stop in 'ole Carl just as the traffic light flashes red. With his typical cheerful expression, he takes a deep breath of air only to trigger a few rough coughs. Even with how often he comes into this city, it is easy to forget about all of the odd mixtures of scents that existed here and much of it being pollution. The area also is pretty rundown, holding only remnants of how successful it had once been. Although the majority of the city is in poor condition and some locations are in ruin, there is the well-known, multi-million dollar company Wohlstand that resides in the northwestern part of the city. Their main line of work is with chemicals and are joint to one of two hospitals here, that is the one hospital that is still being used of course.
The traffic light switches to green and 'ole Carl carries Nigel forward. He drives for a few blocks more before turning into a street littered with many st
Diminished. Part One. bAll in one.
A simple multipurpose tool
Just shy of perfection by one flaw.
Six o'clock in the morning, on the dot. Flinging the covers aside with great enthusiasm and a huge grin to match it, Nigel was ready for another day. Leaping to his feet and then striking a pose with both arms above his head flexing and a "oh yeah" was the next step in starting off the day. Nigel had a healthy vibe about him and he made sure to begin with a positive attitude if he wanted similar results for himself. After going through the rest of his morning duties, which consisted of stretches and exercise, breakfast, dressing, and then taking time to tidy up the small room, in that order, Nigel grabbed a leather strap on the bottom middle part of one of the walls and hoisted it up.
He was in a storage unit, among many others. The whole area was filled with numerous piles of metal and debris everywhere. Such areas were used to dispose of scrap parts. This was Nigel's domain. He enjoyed tinkering with bits and
T.o.m.b 1aMany strange and wondrous things exist in this world. There's nature that has its magical ways of growth and secrets. There is also mankind with its work in the sciences and advancements as a race. Both have their devastating sides as well. Volcanoes, earthquakes, and hurricanes for nature to name a few; guns, missiles, and nuclear warheads for humans are commonly known about. However, I feel most are easily forgetful of one power we humans have that is constantly abused for good and evil each day.
The power of words.
A chilled Sunday morning. Finely packed snow covered the city as it continued to shower down. It was the first week of January. Littered on most sidewalks and curbs were the homeless accompanied by trash and debris. One couldn't go more than two blocks without passing by a man or woman huddled for warmth from the harsh element of winder or enough garbage to satisfy three or more dumpsters.
What a mess.
A man dressed in a mix of rags and scraps lied up against one side of
Sanity is for chumps.Do you ever just..
A gentle breeze can set just the right mood for a summer day as it cools
one's skin off with this Sun's rays heating it in equal competition.
Too cold? Grab a pullover.
Warmer than you wanted it to be? Take it off then.
An easily adaptable circumstance in most cases, especially when there are
not multiple bullets missing your body by mere millimeters and you can't
spare a second to wipe the sweat off your brow as you are dashing for near
Do you ever just..
It is a wonder how the world operates currently. In one location a Saudi
Arabian man barely gets through his day with the ragged clothes he wears,
a mind focused mainly on surviving the next night, an empty stomach, and a
Heineken bottle cap in his left pocket from last week. In another area there
is a Caucasian man who sits in his cubicle on the twenty-third floor, one
leg over the other, biting the eraser end of his pencil as he debates in
his head over whether he should go out with his buddies late
Empty skies.You are a bird.
It doesn't matter what kind of bird so long as it isn't a flightless one. (Ostrich, chicken, etcetera)
Each day you wake with one main goal: to fly high and fly even higher than yesterday. Everyone else is a bird with the same idea in mind. And in order to fly higher than normal, you need to find and share special and unique feathers that are hidden around the world to add to your wings. Not all these feathers are good and some can only be used once one is ready for them. (Based on strength, wit, achievements, you name it)
Now imagine that you were born with a birth defect in your wings, making it tougher for you to fly. You find plenty of feathers, but the majority you add and test out don't go well with your wings and cause you to crash back to earth time and time again. You don't know why that is because you subconsciously forget this disability of yours with so much going on in the world around you only to remember it again later, and strive to do better. Some days
This child's words.Dear parents,
Do you remember those days when I wasn't acting my cheery self?
Those moments when my expression is one similar to sulking or simply sad?
A night when I look like I've "lost my best friend"?
Have you considered it to be depression? Not because I was disappointed about something or someone insulted me. A depression that has been around far before anyone would have noticed and not triggered by outside forces.
This is my depression.
A constant influence that lingers just outside the naked eye's perception. Most days it hides away inside my mind, or heart (wherever you believe it would reside), calm and non-threatening. And then it erupts to the surface without even a split second of warning. The best worldly example I have for it is a tsunami, except you only know of its presence once you are struck by it. And you know there is no repelling or escaping it. You must wait for the water level to descend and then continue on with your days. Unlike a tsunami though, it isn't as c
Four in the morning with sighs and fear.You know, I really wish I had a more concerning and comprehendible problem, or so I believe people would find more worth their time. I wish I had severely broken a bone or had immense brain damage or even just couldn't read well because of dyslexia. But no, I simply have depression with a side of anxiety. And to top it off every night I fear that regret will resurface. Even during the day it pays unannounced visits. I can't just take anti-depressants or anxiety pills, talk to a counselor, or express my feelings through a positive activity. I've moved past the milligrams of medicine, the talks, and the fulfillment is never there even with things I like to do. My joys are dwindling; my bonds becoming unstable with others. I don't believe in myself anymore. Yet, I will wake the next day and continue to live because life is linear and consistent.
I want to forget. I can't forgive myself.
I want to forget what it was like to love someone else.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
Felicity.I want to love, to kiss, to hold thee.
On days I feel alone, choices made to flee,
I trust you will find me. To play glorious
melodies for you and I be honored by your
own talents. Soothing nights spent lying down
together, surrounded by silence as your
delicate touch accepts offered command over
Pain and misfortune pay their visits and our
bonds reach their limits or worse, are torn
asunder. However, precious time is spent to
mend wounds and produce new ties after the
results from tragedies.
Laughter turns to tears.
Running, then standing still.
I desire all that comes from you and you wish
to receive everything I give.
And those three silly words, they shall
continuously pass between us each and every day.
Being in your presence will satisfy the senses:
-Eyes I gaze into till my own grow weary.
-Taste of your lips, pecking them here and there,
until they are numb (nevertheless, they always beg
for another second longer).
-Speaking and listening, in tune with our idle
chat at all
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More