I am remaking a thread because the last one was getting to long and weird. Please no weird posts about you having sex with somebody else on here or some weird ass event that i dont really need to know about...thanks...ooh and enjoi!


poetry and comments only please

Work
A small light in the corner of the basement...
sitting on this futon wondering what to do
Dying to live...
The foam walls around me
with fist implants
from past anger flares at stupid parents
working 10 hour shifts
at age 17
seems like wasting my life away
As i look around
and see empty beer bottles and boxes
I wonder whats the point
Open my mini fridge for another...
the cold air seeps out and touches my skin
to lower my temperture a little more
needs a ciggerette to raise it just right
smoke alarm goes off
temper flares
light shimmers...to darkness
tired of life
I lay down
and close my eyes
sights of a place better than this
More sun,
More booze,
More fun...
eyes open,
and i see a nuclear waste land of my house
As I sigh and get up to go to work
mother screams
sight is lost
temper flares
sight comes back...
cold, dark, grey little room
windows with bars on them
blood on my hands that wont come off
dropped soap bars
no more booze
plastic sporks
wont cut deep enough
for the pain that i have caused.
dying to live
livin to die.

its so bright yet so dull

hhmmmm. yes...

i love it

That's a really good piece of work.
It caused me to feel shivers down my spine.
I do hope to see more soon.

Peace,
Mourning~
:ph34r:

i loved it.it's like my works

I liked it a lot as well...it seems so real...like a day or two out of life...wonderful work...

The Song
A violin’s sad song sings through the air and enters your ear, the highest note is hit, and you wince in pain but yet a tear drops from your eye because of the sorrow of the sound, where this noise is coming from you don’t know, the echoes of the song throw you off and you start walking in the opposite direction. You come to a wall that is about 10 feet tall, and at the very bottom of it there is a tiny door maybe 2 feet tall. Far too small for you to enter, so you lose interest in the door and begin turn around when the door opens…your eyes bug out when you see a hand and then an arm coming through the door. Impossible you say to yourself, and the door widens to maybe a 3 foot tall door, and you start to back away as you see four more arms appear out of the door, you hear desperate cries for help, and screams of pain. The door streches to 4 feet tall, and a face that looks like it has been through the worst parts of hell, with blood shot eyes is there and it says “Run! She is coming! Run!” You bolt so fast you almost loose your shoes. You ran back to where you first heard the violin’s sad song, but you don’t hear the song anymore, all you hear is the screams and pains of the figures in the door. Then, all of a sudden the screams stop, and the lights go out, you whimper in fear, because you are afraid of the dark. The lights flash like thunder across the sky and you see, for just a second a very shiny and black violin in the hands of a very pale but yet radiant young woman. The lights are out again and your heart is racing, your mind is wondering a million things like is she going to kill me? Did she play that sad song that got me here in the first place? Will I make it through to lunch? You feel a hand on your back and you jump. a deep voice that sounds like it has some knowledge to it, wispers “sleep” and you black out in the darkness. Blacking out in the darkness is like falling into a dream without knowing it, you could be dreaming of a dark room then the room fills with light and you are with a lover running your hands through their hair, then all of a sudden the room dims and they turn into something evil and twisted. Thinking this is reality you scream and you try to become a chameleon and blend in with the walls, but what seems real to you, only looks like you are screaming at thin air when I watch you from the window in your padded cell.

that long but i likey..okay freaky but very good..*great*

"The Song" story is so very well written. I enjoy reading it over and over. I'm not sick of it yet. Glad you started a new thread. That other one had to go.

thank you very much, im just in the process of finding the ones on my other thread and moving them here to its easier to see...sounded like a good idea to me

Passing
It is clouding over out here. It only started when he walked out into the air. The air turns stale when he revealed himself to the world from the protection of the building. Everybody stays away from him, the saddening one, nobody likes to be sad, but him, he hates everything with a passion. While he is walking home in his sinister clothing, the crow caws at him with its sad but true death tone. When he reached his house, the lawn hasn't been done in ages, the house has been painted black, and the windows have been tented to a deep crimson that almost looks black. He enters his house, with that long skeleton key. Goes past the foyer, which has been turned into a raver room. Up the creaky stairs, twisting with there threatening bends, and they call to him to push somebody down them. He makes it to the benighted hallway and walks past the rooms that smell of sex and blood in them. He makes it to the black door; of course he opens the door and walks in like he usually does. Blood incases the room; it's all on the walls. You can see a hand dragging down the wall where the end might have been. Yes, it is his doing; of course it is all his blood really. Aha you think him a murderer? For yes he does hate all life, but mostly his own. He takes off his clothes slowly, leaving nothing but pale, white skin. The scars are all over, he lost count after 58. He retires to the bathroom after he gets his blood red towel from the closet of his. He walks to his sauna that is all black, but then again it matches the bathroom, black marble, everything black, except of course the faucets.they are gold. He turns them on and blood pours out of them into the sauna where he is sitting, it does not faze him at all. He fumbles around the back part of the tub. And pulls out a bottle of champagne. Pops the cork, and takes a swig of it. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. Slams the bottle on the side of the sauna, and slits his wrists with deep gashes. By the sigh in his breath I believe he's not going to stop the bleeding. His eyes fade to black, pupils glaze over; the world is a figment of his mind now. I swear that was a smile on his face. but that man is incapable of smiling. There is a beeping sound in the distance getting louder and louder. You sit up in bed sweating with scars all over your body and the pain in your wrist wont go away, the covers you were sleeping on are covered in blood. And when you walk outside the air stales in your breath and the crow seems to be stalking you with its long sad cry. You are no longer accepted at school and this world is scared of you because you are fucking different. Well, maybe you will go home and relax in your sauna and give this world of yours to another.

GOod. Yes move all your stuff here.

Untitled
Sitting in blood,
Crying in wails,
Sharp as knifes,
Soft as skin,
Upon my face,
Scares are formed,
Lives are ended,
Minds ejected,
Bodies rejected from society
Mothers cry
Babies die,
Its life,
Something’s will pass you by,
Something’s will stop for hitchhikers
Those are unfortunate,
Born with will
Twigs snap
Just like my anger
Blood is spilt,
From my body
Life goes on
While mine is ended.

as always good stuff

that's freaky..the frist one it reminds me of a poem and a friend i had she was very scucidal...poor girl i loved her so she was a great friend..till i fucked up

The Anger
I feel the anger behind my eyes, its sitting there wanting to fry your
brains into mush, turn my firsts together in a bunch, adrenaline pumps into
my heart, for now its about time for you to part, I see a tunnel inclosing
my vision, all I see is you sitting there while you kiss him, my eyes were
brown, and now they are black, my hearts turned cold, and now its grey, if
only I could turn your skin into that decay but no ill save it bottled up
for another time, just watch out I wont talk as much as a mime, with my
invisible box...around me, and a steel rope upon me, ill lasso you up and
tie you down till you regret and then ill really make you bleed understand
my loss understand why you are sitting in that moss, for the tide will come
one day, and you will just drown away.

i love all your work!!!
deadly

Void
My time slips out of my hand,
And into the void.
I feel the rush of air in my hair.
My clothes fluttering in the noise of what I have come to believe is the
wind.
I try to scream as if it would help
But nothing comes out of the hole of a mouth I have.
I close my eyes, and rethink the events that just happened.
I think of you.
You were the last person I saw
The one who showed a single glimpse of care at the last moment of my life.
"hold on, please don't leave me alone!" you screamed into my blood covered
face.
But I couldn't hold on.
No I couldn't hold on any longer for you.
I have failed, and now I am falling away, deeper into this tunnel,
Oh yes, I believe Alice would agree with me.
The time does fly, after you die.

Sorry its kinda long...w/e works tho. enjoi

Boogeyman
I wake up sweating all the time. I call it the boogeyman. Run from him I must in my dreams. Run from him at night, never will he go away for me? Always following close behind, like a damn mosquito that smells your blood. I wake up with dried blood that isn't mine and scratch marks on my body.the Cops arrested me saying that the blood on me was the blood of somebody I killed. In which this person died a very gruesome death in their bed, and they say that I got the scratch marks from the victim, "yep that's a 10-4" they say. So I sit here in my cell all alone, waiting for the first night of this to be over. The sun goes away and the moon comes up on this land, and then I fall asleep to see the boogeyman.

Once I close my eyes and my mind doesn't sense reality anymore, I see an alley in which I stand in. There is a dark silhouette of a figure at the end of this alley. The walls are Brick red, but I do not see an outline of the white that there usually is, and then I notice.that's not a brick wall that's a wall covered in blood. Blood bursts out from the roof tops and showers down upon me and the silhouette, now drenched in the blood. The dark shadow turns to meet me, so I can see its fully body and shape. It skin color is gray with some black tattoos over its arms and chest. It hair is like dread locks and its eyes are bright red with a look that reminds me of fire. I turn around in a frantic state of mind and I run right smack into a wall of blood.but, this wall is not liquid though it is very hard unlike a liquid. I turn back to see where my demon is at, I see it is that but of six inches from my face. I scream and hit at it but to no apparel. It stares at me for a second or two, and then begins to move in a liquid movement that I have never seen before.

It drags me closer to it with its long claws, obviously taking its time, and ties me up in rope. Then it sits me down in a chair that came from nowhere and ties me to that. Then it walks to the wall and sticks its hand through, like the wall was nothing but liquid! Then it pulls out a briefcase from this bloody wall, by the looks of it the briefcase is made from alligator hide. It turns to me and its eyes shimmer in the alley way, I think there is fire in its eyes. It pulls another chair out of nowhere and sits down in front of me.enough distance so I cannot kick it, smart boogeyman. It sets the briefcase on the ground and opens it up, I see many shiny things in there and most of them things I do not want to know what they do. All the while this boogeyman is watching me, and now its lips curl into a smile, and sharp pointy teeth now are facing me. I scream once again and it slaps me in the face, me being stunned now puts duck tape over my mouth and now I am muffled with my screams.

It waves a finger in front of my face and shakes its head making a ticking noise. Its hands go to the briefcase and I know its going to use those tools on me. I sit here now thinking of a way out.how to get away from this boogeyman of mine, but I cannot see any possible way out, for I must accept what comes to me now, me being the one to accept things very quickly. So I sit silently hoping maybe it will let me go out of pity.probably wont though. It pulls out a very long but yet skinny knife, and my eyes widen, it chuckles like that's exactly what it wanted me to do, and then pokes at my left eye. I feel the burst inside my skull and scream with withering pain.

My hands involuntarily try to go to my face, but they wont because they are tied down, blood running down the left side of my face, tears running down the right side.mixing together around my chin. It begins to laugh now with an eerie sound but I don't care anymore, the damned thing just popped my eye out! After maybe five minutes of my muffles screaming the boogeyman fumbles around in its nicely tailored jacket and pulls out a very old looking yellow piece of paper.for me to see.

This piece of paper looks very strange to me there are no words on it, wait a second, the words are appearing like magic, like somebody is just writing them, it reads, "Very painful? That's what I was aiming for ha-ha no pun intended there son.I am going to explain what I'm going to you, like I have many before you, there is nothing you can do, your keepers are asleep in their beds and they will soon find out your fate, but for now lets concentrate on you, my boy. First of all you have noticed I popped one of those precious things out of your skull in which you see the world around you, I will soon do this again but you need to read this for I cannot speak in your tongues. I am popping your eyes out so you will not be able to see what I do next, then I will tear your tongue out for if you survive this you will not speak of this, then I will cut your ears off so you cannot hear of what people have to say. Think of me doing you a favor, you do not want to see or hear your mother crying if you do survive this now eh? Well let's get on with this."

And the pain has now subdued to my brain and the boogeyman smiles its cruel smile once again and then takes careful aim at my right eye. As a pop and a tear of flesh is silently heard in my cell and the cot in which was white is now my crimson blood, the gunk of my eyeball is also mixed into this concoction and my tongue flopping around on my cot like it needs to say something; you begin to cough very violently in your sleep, and then dried blood that isn't your blood type, appears over your body, and cut marks from nobody knows or nobody guess's is suddenly there. If I was alive and I knew your fate just as I knew mine, I would say, "Watch out, it's the boogeyman!"

i love viod!!!!!!!!!!

Robot
My mind burps like a baby, they come from nowhere but these are not gasses coming from my mouth...these are words oozing from my fingertips and into my computer...sometimes the words come out scrambled and we think about
them and sometimes these words make you laugh so hard you fall out of your
chair onto the hard wooden floor, when I loose my train of thought...the
train itself de-rails itself...and I sit here...with nothing on my mind, it
seems my mind has stepped out for a few seconds, and will be back
momentarily. I am just an empty shell, in my chair typing, and responding
to anything like a robot sometimes, I wonder if you shed my skin aside, would you
find a hard metal. Or maybe a bunch of old, rotting wires? And a mother
board that yells at you to pick up after yourself, and to clean your
room...but most of these things usually go on shut down...before I fall
asleep...my mind returns only to enter its dreams then leaves again...and
then my eyes close as heavy as a sumo wrestler.

interesting last one....
but so very true

Dream world I

Its 2:29 AM and we fell alone.
Who are we?
Charlene and I,
Of course, she has fallen asleep, to leave me here writing
Lucky cat, she gets to sleep while I stay up late.
Who is to say nothing bad will happen within the next twenty minutes?
Not you of course.
Do you know why?
Because you are at home
Sleeping away also; wasting your lives in a dream world.
You feel secure in your house, but there is a way in, always a door left
unlocked or a window left cracked just enough so fingers can fit underneath
of them and lift up into your sanctuary.
What do you do when some evil being shows up in your bedroom pointing a
bony finger at you?
Well, what do you do?
Is it a dream world or is it real?

ack...some of ur work scares me..*hides behind u* but it's very detailed

lol was u reffering to me in that first post lol

Teacher
The sound of the teacher’s voice is deafened to me
Focusing on a small detail in the room
Wandering eyes
Seeing others trying to comprehend
Looking at hands in motion
Thumbs twiddling
Slipping into the void
As my eyes begin to close
I watch the teacher
Slip over to me and bark an order
In silence
The sound of my feet pattering down the hallway to the principles office
Is all I hear

ah very good .... deafening voice... ill have to use that sometime...

Here are some of my very first poems...that i ever wrote...so dont be so brutal to them...okay you can be i guess

*likes people to be rough*

Sparrow
went walking one day
saw a sparrow flying with me
i kept walking, he kept flying
i wasnt looking at were i was going, and got hit by a bus
as i lay there with blood inwrapping methe screams grow distant and my heart to a slow beat
i think of that sparrow that left me to die.

Tears
I see another and another go by.
Day after day, night after night
i seem them all the time
what do i see you ask?
ah, but only the sight of your tears

Destroyed
I feel a flutter on my hand, what is it, i ask?
i reach up my hand to find a mosquito.
sucking and thriving upon my flesh
then the pain kicks in
i slap it, blood and guts mix together
opps, there goes another life i just destroyed.

Better
your hands pretty
but, my wrist is better
your spoon is nice, but my knife is dull
your life is better and mine is...gone.

Knife
It's cold
but yet sharp
silver in color
a black handle and very sharp
now there is warmth running down my finger tips
the floor upon my face
i can hear my heart
its so slow
is that pain or is it fear?
dont worry im just closing my eyes for a second
ooh such pretty eyes.

lol write much? i read some but not all and they were good like sparrow... god that was sad/ creepy but very good... not very rough i know but youll live

Question
I cannot feel my heart beat,
All my problems disappear with the light
I see no future for me
I feel no future in me…
I fear to ask you,
Scared of what might become of us
But I need to know
And so I lay here wondering what your answers are going to be
Going over the question a million times in my head…with you answering a million times different…
Now it is up to you…
Shall I have a future?
Or shall I not?
Within this question,
My life is in your hands.

OverLooked
My mind is split in two...
one side wants to leave you,
and the other side
wants to love you more than anything in the world.
I do not know what side is Larger or to go with...
So I ask you questions to help either or side grow.
You do not help me at all,
So I must turn to myself to look deep inside my heart.
To see if these feelings are true or maybe they are just making me blue for
no reason at all.
I look at my heart and it sags when i think about you.
When I see you it perks back to life like nothing is wrong.
But yet you squashed me with your words, cut me down like a little bug.
You pinned me to a wall...cut me open and tore my heart out while it was
still beating,
But now I sit at home, always but utterly alone,
Thinking of you,
While you're out having a blast.
Maybe ill have a blast also, just one that is not so keen to the eyes of
people.
They will see how deep the love does go...they will see my heart has
shriveled up and become a plum for you to eat.
And nothing is left of me
just a corpse
without a lover.
They will bury me away and forget about all my troubles...for everything I
have done is now in the past...and will be forgotten just...like...me.

Shivers in the darkness
the warm glow of the monitor keeps me living and striving for more
ripples of light from this box allows me to see
allows me to live
and feel
a screaming voice
a flash of pain
the glow dims
as i die
the light goes out
and my eyes can see
the hell that has intraped me

The Soul Show
This spot is reserved for you; somebody or something took the time to keep it clear. So you take the spot And wander when the show will start...behind the curtains there seems to be fire. But nobody is running to put it out, so why should you? You sit there with the house burning and you are getting mad, the show hasn't started! You look for somebody to complain to...But nobody's there, nobody to complain to! What has this world come to! Now aren't you lucky? That Satan saved your spot? For the curtain opens and your worst fears appear. You are so scared that the devil has grabbed you up by the balls and will forever hold you! Only you can over come your fear. Only you have time on your side, for you have forever and your worst fear is Nobody to complain to! Why hasn't the damned SHOW STARTED!

the first one was sad.. hospitols... *shivers*
thats what it reminds me of... wonder why?
the second one was ... odd.. its kinda normal and makes you wonder if that really does happen

When you worry about everything in life, you do not understand why we are
here? Why we show up at a doorway for a couple of seconds just to say
"hello I just stopped by."when we worry about our loved ones everything
else stops in time with it. We do not understand why we do certain things
that we always feel are right? Why a murder kills another, maybe he feels
its right? Maybe. But who knows, who cares? It's just something to think
about when you are going to bed at night. Is your house really safe? Is
every door really locked is every window really closed? Do we understand
why we do not trust people who act differently? Maybe we should be afraid
of ourselves and ask in our mind what we are going to do next, because if
you came home, and saw you best friend with your mom's blood on his hands
and the white corpse of your mom laying on the ground next to him, would
you beat the living crap out of him? Or would you ask questions first? Or
pop a cap in that mofo's ass?! Yeah what I thought you would do interesting
what we all think of, do not ask what I think of because you will get a
stubborn answer from me, like what don't I think of? Yes think about that,
what don't I think of and when we will be back in time for bed to think
that we are safe from murders, but if you think about it there is a murder
in all of us.

stupid lil quirkey blurb from my head one day...i dunno why i even put it in here

Shoot Me Now
Shoot me now...Use my gun to make it not obvious...I left this note telling you of all my troubles so you don't think I was murdered...What do I do with all this stress? Who knows who cares? Shall I end it with a noose or a knife? Pills? Guns? Carbon monoxide? Who knows who cares? I hear a voice "I love you always, please be ok." I laugh into the darkness that surrounds me, like anybody would be willing to say it anyway. Will you remember me in five years? I thought not. Its in our nature to die and deal with death, death is a period for some its a comma in life, but when I'm all alone and sitting by myself in the darkness listening to the silence and wishing that you would be here with me, that is the hardest part that I have to handle. I don't think I can handle much more of this, what am I to do when nobody is around? Look at the knife even harder? Its only you that keeps me away from it, but the farther away you fall from me the closer the knife gets to my body. My mom is getting worried what shall I do? Tell her I'm all right, it will all be over soon and I will be back to normal? I cannot lie to my mum like that. I will remember everything she did for me and everything I hated her for and the time I thought I would never talk to her again but she has the cheeriness to her that you just cant. She will forgive you because she loves you that is what moms are for they are supposed to love you because they conceived you into this life and felt the pain when u came into this fucking world crying your fucking head off. I seriously wish I was born a dead child. But if I was would you be the same? Have your same friends that you did before you met me? Or would that all change for you would you have killed yourself if it wasn't for me Justin Vignone that helped you out and took on your weight and stress and tried so very hard till the blisters on his back got so bad they burst? I don't know what the fuck to do anymore you tell me which road to go down, because I'm tired of choosing for myself. So which will it be, my life in the hands of my love, Ha, not much of a life huh? To fit in the hands of another. Well I feel the presence of the grim one...I must be gone and to you I hope I have changed you to remember me and if not then I have failed and will probably see you on the other side...of course my love...I will wait for you.

wow... sad... i wrote one a while ago kinda like that... was sad.. ended kinda the same too
saying i didnt have anything to live for and ended with i will stay for you... sad it was...
...*lost in thought* but i love yours definatly... better than mine... good more please!

write more damnit

The Song
A violin’s sad song sings through the air and enters your ear, the highest note is hit, and you wince in pain but yet a tear drops from your eye because of the sorrow, where this noise is coming from you don’t know, the echoes of the sad song throw you off and you start walking in the opposite direction. You come to a wall that is about 10 feet tall, and at the very bottom of it there is a tiny door maybe 2 feet tall. Far too small for you to enter, so you lose interest in the door and begin turn around when the door opens…your eyes bug out when you see a hand and then an arm coming through the door. Impossible you say to yourself, and the door widens to maybe a 3 foot tall door, and you start to back up as you see four more arms appear out of the door, you hear desperate cries for help, and screams of pain. The door has grown to 4 feet tall, and a face that looks like it has been through the worst parts of hell, with blood shot eyes is there and it says “Run! She is coming! Run!” You bolt so fast you almost loose your shoes. You ran back to where you first heard the violin’s sad song, but you don’t hear the sad song anymore, all you hear is the screams and pains of the figures in the door. Then, all of a sudden the screams stop, and the lights go out, you whimper in fear, because you are afraid of the dark. The lights flash like thunder across the sky and you see, for just a second a very shiny and black violin in the hands of a very pale but yet radiant young woman. The lights are out again and your heart is racing, your mind is wondering a million things like is she going to kill me? Did she play that sad song that got me here in the first place? Will I make it through to lunch? You feel a hand on your back and you jump a deep voice that sounds like it has some knowledge to it, says “sleep” and you black out in the darkness. Blacking out in the darkness is like falling into a dream without knowing it, you could be dreaming of a dark room then the room fills with light and you are with a lover running your hands through their hair, then all of a sudden the room dims and they turn into something evil and twisted. Thinking this is reality you scream and you try to become a chameleon and blend in with the walls, but what seems real to you, only looks like you are screaming at thin air when I watch you from the window in your padded cell.

Dream world II
Have you ever really thought about death?
Maybe we don't die at all? Maybe we just wake up from this Dream world?
Who knows?
Well of course, my grandpa does, he has passed onto the other world.
Dare I call it..a better world?
Anything is better than this dark demented world of ours that we call home.
IF we call it home, then why do we trash it and not pick up our toys after
we are done playing with them?
I wonder if animals get to go to this other world of ours.
Or maybe they just respawn or something of that sort?
Well nobody asked me what I ever thought; this is just a bunch of maybes.
I think you will live,
And I will die.sooner than you.much much sooner.
I will come back to this dream world.
And tell you.
Well I believe its due time to wake up.

Hate
Here it is...not very much to say to you...
Only because of these three words of...I hate you,
Yes laugh some more...make a smile but next time ill make that smile a
little wider
I know how much your throat is dieing to smile...
Dieing to bleed...
Dieing to kill that fucking weed...
But all in all
It's just a dream...
So go on about your fucking day and maybe next time,
Ill remember the knife

you thoughts are interesting ...what do you do ???...the house i live in is haunted ...im forever cathing ords floating around on my vid cam ...and ive had a dark figure stood at the bottom of my bed ...i screamed in shock at it ..lol anyway i like how you think

Fish Poop
I don't think I can handle this pressure anymore, my life seeming so meaningless, starving for attention like a dying child wanting for its mother's warmth but only to learn that its mother is dead and cold. Too many emotions are played out through my words, lightning and thunder storms flash through my mind all the time, making me think of the horrors of life and also the good things in life at the same time, mostly though the bad take over the good and I cannot help but to think upon these facts of life that I can never win. Never have a chance in getting what I want, I will always have to get the second handed car, or the third class plane tickets with half eaten peanuts sitting on my lap.its like going to a fancy restaurant and ordering the most expensive thing on the menu and you get this little stinky fish poop.

Step into my mind...
written like a informational video...enjoi

In the mind of me
Being depressed is very fun. Why don't you join me? Make suicidal
poems.wear all black, drop out of school, buy a gun, and one bullet.that's
all you need really. What? No Money? Borrow one from your step-dad's room,
the bullets are in the gun already, good thing he is prepared. Lay down on
your bed. Cock the gun. Put a pillow on your head, to muffle the noise.
Press the gun to your temple; do not forget to leave the depressing poems
as a note to your parents. Squeeze the trigger hear a flash, if all is
said and done, you should be walking towards the flames very soon. Good
luck and hope you had a nice night.

Eternal Madness
This white cell with cubes of padding all over this room bothers me. The walls start to come to life. It looks like bugs are crawling around, changing colors the room hardens and turns to a glossy black marble...the door is still white and untouched...like a Christian with faith in a Satanist church. The door opens but seems to grow smaller the walls are shifting again; maybe they will grow closer together and squish me, like my brain after taking those drugs. That was when they stuck me in here and now look at me. Sickness always is around me, where I go, it gets worse. The other patients try to kill me, that is reason why I am in this cell...the torment cell I call it. What was that?!?! Movements in the far right corner...the farthest away from the light, a black puddle appears on the floor. And a figure starts to arise from the marble; the legs that are in my vision ah my monster is born to this world. The door is open once again the light is blinding I walk out into the white; my monster screeches and pulls back into the darkness where it is safe to it. I fall into the white abyss. I feel the walls hitting my legs more frequent now it's getting smaller! And smaller and smaller the hole becomes and finally I slow to a stop I tried to move yesterday but here I am. I have lost so much weight sense then I can see my ribs! I'm stuck in eternity, and that means I'm dying much, much slower now I wonder if ill ever find my body again?

*cries* ur work forever more will scare me i'll admit i'm afaird of dead thing ghosts, vampires, ect...even in myths...*shivers* i'm afaird of the dark..but good thoughts very intresting

i love it.... i cant wait until you get your ass back on here and post more
hopefully soon

Okay this is a really long one, so im sorry...but i think its good, a friend of mine and I wrote this together it was fun enjoi!
:ph34r: comment on it plz to tell me if im wrong :ph34r:

The Game
Being in a straight jacket is a lot like trying to live my life.
Always feeling strangled, always fighting against the constraints forced upon me from seemingly every direction…
Example: My mom, who thinks I’m worthless and have huge pools of unused potential dripping out of my pores. I think she expected me to be the president of the United States.
Example: My girlfriend, who thinks that I should settle down and get married at 17. Who assumes that when I look at another girl I’m imagining her naked. This is the truth, but she has no right to assume it.
Example: Like when you are laying in bed wanting to go to sleep and then the sun just pours in through your window….but no curtains to shut it out.
Example: People, who are everywhere always, contaminating things. I hate people who contaminate my dreams.
Who am I? Well my “Christian name” is Glen, but, since I hate that name and this is my story, we’re going to refer to me as SAC (strangled, abused child), thanks.
Sometimes I wonder if I am crazy. Not crazy like the average person thinks of the word, but truly crazy. I wonder if I have a mental condition and perhaps should truly be contained in that metaphorical straight jacket mentioned previously. Why would I wonder? I wonder if I’m crazy because sometimes I imagine things. The only way I know I’m imagining them is that these are things that could never happen.
Example: Talking to mosquitoes. Mosquitoes have a very complex and intricate language. I first found my talent of mosquito conversing when I was a five year old at the fair. A mosquito landed on my arm. I was crying then because I had just fallen and scraped my knee. To my mild surprise, the mosquito (turns out her name was Betsy) looked up and asked me.
“My name is Betsy, care to donate some blood?” Now, this, of course, has been translated to English. Mosquito (as well as bee and fly, although there are slight differences) is spoken mostly in different pitches of the letter and sound “Z.” Vowels are the exceptions. I actually heard “Zy zo zoo zzy, zizze zuzaz?” (Note: because it is impossible to express pitch in writing, the reader may not have an adequate description of mosquito; however, this will do for my point)
And I just stared at it…wondering how this is possible, how a mere mosquito can talk to me, SAC, a normal little child. And then I squished her…
Okay lets start with a flashback—there I am, playing chess with an old wrinkled man, losing, later his lungs will be filled up with gasoline and set on fire while being dropped from a damn bridge, only to end in a splash…
He tries to make small talk while making quick work of me on the board, but I space out while he is telling some Vietnam war story and I see the little figures on the board come to life and attack each other in a mid-evil war.
My vision: The pale knight on an even paler horse wound his way through the forest of the most peculiar sort. I suppose I could have said “peculiar forest,” which is not as poetic but easier to understand. The forest was a mixture of white trees and black trees, kept separate in one acre squares.
At the present moment Sir Brodic was circumnavigating his stallion through a particularly dark-and-gloomy black square. His breath was quick and his heart would sometimes beat so loud that it would startle his horse, who wanted nothing to do with this bloody war of this peculiar forest (of forest of the most peculiar sort, whichever you prefer).
He recited the plan over and over in his somewhat feeble mid-evil brain (years of pounding with a sword can do wonders for stupefying a man). He was to go through two acres to the north, and then make a sharp turn east, and there he should bombard the queen.
And then the strange black forest changed to beautiful white sand-like landscape.
Stumped to why this is happening he sees a man in black robes with a huge sword shaped like a cross. Must be a bishop…
then rain patters down on my glasses and I awaken from my dream, the old man is still talking about his Vietnam days saying “it used to rain like this all the damn time in that hell I was in a few years back.”
So, I asked him if he wanted a ride in my car back to this house…across the bridge.
On the way over to his house we stopped by a gas station so he could use the restroom, I hurried up and filled up a gasoline container and quietly waited in my car…once again I spaced out on a sexy lady running to the gas station, through her white shirt you can see her nipples in the gleaming moon light…and my mind starts to make a story of her and me together.
Hey, I couldn’t help it! Crazy people can’t help what their mind does.
My vision: the lady’s long blonde hair flipped over her chest as she turned to look at me. Her blue eyes were bright even though her mascara was running a little in the rain. Suddenly she stopped mid-jog (and her boobies stopped their marching, sadly). My throat tightens as her long legs began a detour my way.
“Hey SAC…” she whispered.
“Hi…um, I’m not very good at romance, do you want me to take of my clothes now or later?”
“WHAT?” That was Gomer (the old Rambling-Vietnam-chess-playing-future-pile-of-ashes).
DAMNIT! Just getting to the good part… this man was going to die.

He plopped his fat ass down in the seat of my car…took a whiff and goes…”Man, somebody must have spilt gasoline!”
I nodded and said “pey, I mean yep sometimes I’m dyslexic” his eyes popped out of his head and he went…weirdo and put his aviator glasses on and leaned back in his chair and said “On ward! My valiant man!”
I began to think that this man is crazier than I am…but still he had to go…with a put put, we were gone.
Traveling through the metallic jungle of Chicago, I started to plan my revenge. I knew it would involve gasoline. You see, ever since I was negative two and a half years old I had this innate infatuation with gasoline.
In fact, when I was twelve, I lit my cat on fire. I don’t hate cats, I just like fire… or, rather, gasoline. When the cat exploded in a furry of hisses and crispy fur balls, I cried. No more Zipper, the foot warmer on the end of my bed.
“Can you say ‘meow’?” I asked. It was a serious question; I didn’t want to light the old guy on fire if he reminded me of my cat. The memories were too strong.
He made an attempt of sorts, but it came out closer to the sound of an estranged rabbit. That was cool with me--I could kill a rabbit-man, I just couldn’t deal with a kitty-guy.
“Son, I’ve got something I’d like to share with you… and it’s not another war story.”
Yeah, I was still angry, but I was also starting to get tired, and exhaustion on the road is more dangerous than drinking and driving, so I welcomed the old man’s story. “Go on.”
“Now I know I haven’t known you very long, I know that we only just met this afternoon, but I feel like you should know—you feel like a son to me, and I hope you will consider me like a father to you.”
I have to admit this touched me deeply. My father was attacked by a bobcat when I was still in the womb, and growing up fatherless can do wonders for a kid’s self-loathing. I glanced at the old man again. He was caring, innocent, and just a little crazy—not exactly what I would want for a father figure—but a grandfather might do.
That is, if I wasn’t so set on killing the man.
I said “thanks” and we drove on, turning around the bend and we saw the bridge in which would hold his fate. Ten miles to bridge a sign said and I began to plan it over in my head…knock him upside the head and tie his legs and arms together and tape his chin to his neck. Five miles and closing I start to break and I see no cars behind us or ahead of us. Perfect setting, sun setting beautiful and as I pull over the car he begins to get confused—not nervous, I’m not sure if he knew the wonders of evil and insanity.
I felt like I was in a straight jacket. Do I need to go into anymore examples? EXAMPLE: THIS OLD MAN CROWDING ME IN MY OWN CAR! CONTAMINATING THE WORLD JUST LIKE HE CONTAMINATED MY DREAM!
Then I was growing violently. I was ripping out of the strait jacket. Ripping ripping ripping, this one’s for you mom. Let me achieve my full potential.
My feet were wet—soaking would be a more appropriate term, but this was not a very “appropriate” time in my life, according to mass media psychologists who think they’ve hit everyone square in the head with a hammer (in other words, they think they’ve got everyone nailed). I know what they all think—but I’m not and never was sick. The sick is the weak, and I couldn’t be weak—for I was doing what most couldn’t strain their minds enough to imagine. I was breaking out of the straitjacket.
“I know what you all think,” I told the face next to me. I slid my hand behind my adopted grandfather’s head. His head felt smooth, bald, and vulnerable. I don’t think he was nervous, did I tell you that? The bastard still wasn’t nervous. Just confused.
Did I ever tell you why my feet were wet? Or soaked? It was gasoline. Gasoline covering my feet and soaking into my socks, gasoline infecting my pores it was gasoline.
“Are you confused, Gomer?”
And I pushed down.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiip.
The straitjacket was gone, and Gomer’s face was between my feet.
“YOU THINK YOU HAVE ME NAILED BUT YOU DON’T KNOW... YOU DON’T KNOW BECAUSE ALL YOU DO IS CONTAMINATE. YOU CONFUSED? LISTEN TO YOU BLUBBERING DOWN THERE. DO YOU SPEAK MOSQUITOE? GRANPA?”
Then there was silence. Now I was the one confused.
Matches.
The car transformed. From a Pinto to hell, Hell falling into water.
Smoke raising into my eyes and I look up to see gray clouds, pouring water down unto me, I look down at my hands, and then back up to normal level, and there is Gomer sitting in front of me saying “well, its about time I head home son, nice playing with you.” He knocks down his black King, I hear small screams from the black pieces left on the board as I stand to shake his hand “Good Game”
*the end*