Err...I need to find something new...
~lost-the-plot
TaraNewest
the shiftchildhood games of knives to necks palms to fingers fingers to lips if only dreams had wings, we'd have soared.the shift
we crossed each sun the longest moons found the stars and planets.
but i can't pin-point the precise moment of change it loomed before our ever-still eyes which had drooped to avoid the glare.
with signs of sallow skin and pockets of regret we packed up our belongings i went left, you went right
by ~lost-the-plot
I. Life, ApparentlyI. Standing on the edge of the weathered sidewalk Drew scratched mercilessly at a patch of dry skin on her arm waiting for the cars to slow so that should could make her way across the road. Lifting her right foot forward she stepped down off the curb and into the traffic, which greeted her with the squealing of tires and a sharp hand gesture in her direction. She paid no attention.I. Life, Apparently
Bounding down the street quickly, she dodged small children and brushed past a group of grade sevens lighting a cigarette they had found on the ground. Only three more blocks until she reached Liberty Park. She could smell the fresh cut grass when she
by ~lost-the-plot
Beginning of Story: UntitledWe have this marvelous thing called life staring us right in the face, eye to eye. But it's like an akward conversation between strangers, like on the bus when the peculiar elderly man who reaks of whiskey chooses a seat closest to you on the barren late night bus, and you know you're his next victim of mindless uncomfortable banter. That's life, staring you right in the face, eye to eye, making your stomach flip. At least that's how I see it; life for me is that uncomfortable bus ride home.Beginning of Story: Untitled
That was also the past twenty minutes of my life, pleading silently with the bus driver to get me to my stop as fast as humanly possible. H
by ~lost-the-plot
no title yet...the prediciment of existance is vivid in my mind tonight with colors clashing, one becoming two sprawled on the floor are the morals i've left long behind like layers of dustno title yet...
a constant battle of stringency.
irony is the enemy pure semblance falls into foolish despair all is unveiled, exposed and laid out in perfect view a battle of fervent emotion
by ~lost-the-plot
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Meeeeow!
Lol, I'm jealous as hell 'cause my teacher BUTCHERED my poetry today... you've got great stuff.
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Make tea, not war.
i watched you and stuff.
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