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[SpiderAgainstFly]

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.

[SpiderAgainstFly]

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.

Edited by SpiderAgainstFly, 08 January 2005 - 01:50 PM.

[SpiderAgainstFly]

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

[the_vanished]

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

[SpiderAgainstFly]

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.

[SpiderAgainstFly]

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.

[SpiderAgainstFly]

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?

[dark_angel55]

*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

[darkangel42090]

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?

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

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

[SpiderAgainstFly]

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!
comment on it plz to tell me if im wrong

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*

[darkangel42090]

interesting
kinda creepy
but good
still creepy though...

[SpiderAgainstFly]

Crash
I run fast because my problems are very fast runners also,
You can only run as fast as what you are carrying, if you understand what I
mean...
Would you like me to explain?
When you are running, or going 207 mph down a gravel dusty road at midnight
with your headlights off.
Your heart is pumping so fast you cannot hear yourself think.
Your body shuts off everything around you and you just focus on the road,
You can't even hear your best friend talking to you or that the radio is on
or anything just the wind, the road and you.
You cannot hear your mind sit in your dull head and speak about what
problems you have.
You have nothing on your mind at all, it's like somebody turns your mind on
mute and you focus on pumping blood and breathing.
Now let's say you are driving 207 mph down a gravel dusty road at midnight
with your headlights off, and you hit a patch of loose gravel and flip your
car eighteen times and your car is stopped on its roof.
You wake up maybe two hours later and nobody has shown up, you are bleeding
very badly from a head wound, the adrenaline effects are starting to wear
off and you feel the slow ache of pain in your arms and legs, this is when
your mind kicks in and you think of all the stupid problems you just made
for yourself;
Like you decided to leave your cell phone at your house because you didn't
want your parents to call you while you were gone, like how stupid can you
be driving down a country road at 207 miles per hour.
Now think about this one; how stupid are you to forget to tell your best
friend to put on his seat belt? Seconds later, you hear him screaming in
pain. No cell phone, no use of legs, you have to sit through it, and pray
to god that he does not die on you because you do not want to be alone
going through this. On that note, no matter what you go through in life,
doesn't matter if its financial problems, family problems, or future
problems,
You do not want to go through it alone, you possibly can't do it.
And if you say you don't have friends, take time to think of some of the
people that who take time out of their precious time to say "hello, how are
you?" when you are passing them in the mall, or maybe the grocery store.
People these days should start respecting that other people do give a damn.
And I just give a damn about to many people and have a load upon my back.
So now you can see where I'm coming from hopefully.

another weird lil blurb that i just wrote outta nowhere...well enjoi

[SpiderAgainstFly]

Thanks darkangel42090 for your comment on my stories... :punk:

[dark_angel55]

creepy..but good

[SpiderAgainstFly]

Just When?
Cold on my breath,
Warm to thee heart,
Scared to my mind
Blind to touch
Deaf to sound
Numb to pain
To death
To life
To happiness
My mind breathes sadness
It can’t live without it
It can’t live with it
Mental break down is immanent
Just when?

[dark_angel55]

more

[SpiderAgainstFly]

Civil War
Boredom enters my mind.
I start to space out.
And my world comes into my head.
It blinds me like a sheet, covering my eyes and ears so I cannot hear the
outside world.
The darkness enters my head
It clouds over in my eyes.
I see the people walking around.
They all have weapons.
Ready to leave my head.
In my world, there is civil war.
Never ending.Never dieing

Last droop of blood
Every waking moment
I feel the pain inside of me.
It's like a creature wanting out
My body pales,
My skin gets tighter to the bones.
Muscles seem to disappear.
Cut marks appear here and there,
As I am about to bleed my last drop of blood
The pain enters it and leaves my corpse.
It is finally gone,
Away from me,
And into you it goes.
Your body tries to reject it,
But the creature is too strong.
And now you are pale and starting to wither away.

[SpiderAgainstFly]

too many things
played out in emotions
and my eyes get tired
like my mind
when i think of us
tired of the fights
tired of the games
maybe ill close my eyes during this chapter of my life

should i add more onto it or leave it like that? please tell me

[adOrkable]

You could add more to that poem, or leave it at that. It will just leave the reader to think you are going through alot of confusion but it'll end it saying " I think I'll end it now" with the last sentence you had on there.. I think it's good. Yet, it is short.. but, straight to the point of confusion and unknowing what to do for sure. I liked it.

Krissi

[SpiderAgainstFly]

Thanks for the input... what about this one?

Raises the gun
For my life is over
And the darkness in wraps me
And laughter escapes my lungs
Unto the ground, my tears are formed
Funeral parlors, weeping parents, friends, empty bottles never to be touched again
Wondering why, asking how...never to know,
That I loved you.