Scribbles on the wall.
((The first few are awful. I'm not sure if I want comments or not, considering these are more for me than you. PM me if you feel like saying something.))
Now featuring... Nothing!
Ladies and Gents- Take your seats!
The first Creature-Thing... Something
. . .
he's the worst thing you've got.
Last edited by AwsonRew; 04-26-2012 at 06:45 AM.
He hates you with all his might.
All are blurs within his sight.
All his words he thinks are right.
He's wound real tight.
It's unknown to many
He doesn't show any
Any hint or clue to his true self
(He went for you)
To earn his sound...
(You turned him down)
You must go for him
(You must've broke him)
Come closer, so it won't be so blurry
No sir, there's no need to hurry
To him... you must travel.
Till then... he'll stay raveled.
It's time, folks!
The next Creature-Thing awaits.
The smell of smoke
kicks the creature awake.
The fire burning is him.
Creature #2 is you.
Can't you see you're hurting him?
With what you're about to do
You escape the smoke.
It scared you
His mistake was hope
Counting on you
He's gonna burn you.
But you can't be bothered to learn who
Is causing havoc in the corner over there
Diverting traffic to cleaner air.
Please. Return, you.
Let me burn you.
Did I say 'Me'?
I meant 'him.'
I'm the creature.
The one you look down to.
I'm the future.
The one you will bow to!
I'm in a cage now
Not for long
I'm gonna rage out
and prove you wrong.
What the fuck. . .
Is this shit?
Hit by a truck.
Is that it?
Is that what's behind such a construct?
Did my organs grind into such a product?
I guess my insides suck.
These scribbles are fucked.
Is this my best?
This. . .
If this is my best
Trash, like I throw to the ground.
Mashed till it ceases its crinkly sound.
Smashed by feet less deserving than it.
With the trash is where I fit.
That's not all there is to it.
There's a lot of shit I have to go through with.
Mostly just 'go through'.
Mostly to impress you.
You - A general term.
You are a funeral urn.
You are the edge of space.
You're in front of my face.
Maybe there's no target for that word now...
My world is a little off track.
How can I get back?
Back to the chase.
Back to the feel of your skin.
Enough about you.
How much of me is about me?
What if every nice thing I've done...
If everything I've done...
Is so you will like me.
No! there's no one like me.
I'm a fucking machine of perfection
unable to pass inspection.
I believe myself to be royal.
- Yet I have no oil.
I'm going to die like this.
I don't know why I live like this
Okay, maybe I'm not the best.
I can see that's not probable.
But when I look at the rest... of these fucks.
. . .
I can't change the world.
I can't even get a girl.
It must be my hand.
A bad draw.
If I ever don a wedding band...
I can't even see that far.
I'm literally falling into a black hole.
I might be able to escape.
But I don't think I have the will.
I've been crushed.
It's surprising, but...
I'm a mess.
I honestly don't know what's going to happen.
I don't want anything to happen.
It'll be too hard.
Too hard too live.
I don't want to give
the effort away.
The effort I use just to keep my heart beating every day.
If I'm so fucking smart
Why am I sitting here?
My blanket has teddy bears.
I don't notice the difference between this one and the last
My regular was in the wash, so I used this one from my past.
But it's clean and dry
So there's no good reason why
I still use this kid one.
Or is there one?
I act like a child.
I act like I'm better.
It's been a while
Since I've met her.
Whether it's her or them
or you or me
It doesn't matter in the end
All that's left is me.
I want to blame you
But it doesn't matter if you did it
I find it hard to do
what I need to fix this life that's turned to shit.
I thought like an adult when I was just fifteen.
So that's when I stopped growing.
Though I never learned to do what's best for me.
And the worst part is knowing.
I scored "gifted" on a test
My friends could attest.
Yet I am a sloth.
I am a sloth.
. . .
I always said I'd pull it together in the end.
But it seems all I do lately is pretend.
Pretend that I'll make it.
Pretend that I'm able to fend.
It couldn't possibly be
That my emotions overcame me
and that a single broken heart
would be the end of me.
It's more like the series of unfortunate events
that lead me here so my fingers could vent.
I'm not ugly.
I'm quite adept in humor and talk.
So it must be...
I've been cursed by God.
Probably just bad luck, I guess.
Sorry to bring you into this mess
I'm just so fucking stressed.
What do you expect me to do?
All I need to for someone to save me.
But I'll need more than that small glance you just gave me.
I'm at an extreme.
it always seems
that this is when I can write.
If it is then why
do my fingers move without purpose.
Hey old friend.
I'm doing okay.
I'm kinda stuck on autopilot.
I might have some luck if I try it:
I'm not really in the gutter or anything.
I'm still in the basement.
But that's a whole other thing.
I can see the subtle change in the sky
right before day takes over the night.
It's very faint, but it's there.
And I ain't got a care.
Just let me sit here for a tad bit longer.
In rehab, even.
I promise myself and the world I'll come out stronger.
When I'm ready, I'll be leaving.
But I do need a push to be creative here and there.
I'm not in a rush. No Fear. No Care.
So I'll have my fun.
For ten more minutes.
I know when it comes to it...
Things will work out how they should.
(Knock on wood)
((I felt like writing a story for the first time in a long time. This is an almost non-edited first draft of a prologue of sorts. 20-30min so far. I wish I could incorporate a wider vocabulary, but I currently can't, so....... I actually want critiques on this one. The Ctrl+V wrecked my italics.))
This world is irreparably broken. Broken Beyond Repair as an unnecessary poet would say. We have gone too far in the wrong direction to turn back now. We have a device that can vaporize thousands of people at once. We have a network that can spread both physical and psychological viruses across the seas. A network that can keep track of everything ever made, effectively putting a stranglehold on creativity. Everything is eventually recycled: Television shows, corrupt leaders, and even works of art.
Some positive thinkers are under the impression that we can fix the world with words and communication, or with knowledge and friendship. The inherent problem with this idiotic solution is that the people who need to be fixed have the money to spend on better words than the rest of us.
After years of praying to the gods, I've stopped waiting for a divine sign or any sort of mysterious gift. I wasn't lucky enough to get a little notebook that I could scribble names in and make the bad people go away. I had to get dirty. I had to start a new life. I knew that my crimes would warrant my death in the end, but I also knew that I was going to leave the world a better place than when I came into it.
I'm not afraid of dangerous things. I'm not afraid of risking my life when necessary. However, I am deathly afraid of dying. Seizing to exist is, clearly, the ultimate fear for anyone. I can barely manage to accept the fact that I simply won't exist when my brain seizes function. Clearly my views of religion have been revealed with my previous statement, but that topic offers no relevance to this story.
The reason I brought up the topic of death was to try and explain the way I felt when I carried out my plans. I've killed bad people. My empathy is like an acid around my insides. I don't want to make someone else not exist because I don't want that for myself.
So, we've established that I have some sort of values that guide me. But unfortunately my ideals conflict with them. I guess this is what it means to be Conflicted.
I am such an anomaly
Breaking the policy
acting sort of insane
a slave to my own brain
I owe an apology
Breaking the policy
acting like an idiot
words are as good as shit
Time, time, time. time, time to get sleep.
but I'm still getting them to notice me
I can't control~~~
when i try
when I live my life~~~~
I think I've got
The best sense of humor
but i'm sorta just there
like a benign tumor.
tell me what you think of me.
so my eyes might start to see
that nothing is what i think it is
I am just full of shit
never be stinkin rich
never be on top of it