Viewing member 1 to 17 (of 17 active members)
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Saudade - - "I’m made of tiny fragments, each a different version of me, each version like plasma, undefinable in shape or placement or movement through my conscious code. All these pieces of me, banded together, fit as a creature inside a world where every possibility is woven in the air, where everything is, every person and god and life force a specific combination of all elements to create different, perfect, beautiful things, allow which are connected. Everything is made of these tiny mosaic pieces, but think, the blanket over all, of all, is the soul, the one infinite soul of all existence. That’s what I believe in- the minuscule particles and the unending spirit, all the same and all filled with possibility, opportunity, changing the world within the world. That’s what I believe in, and god, it feels good. "View -
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rhyme79 - - "Take equal measures of anxiety, guilt and mood swings and slosh together into a small, predictable bowl with a tiny dribble of sociability to ensure viscosity. Agitate to blend. Next, in a large, shiny container take a generous portion of doubt being sure to remove all encouragement. Add a small packet of opportunity. The best to use is the dehydrated, meaningless kind that is now commonly available in any supermarket. Stir well. Combine both mixtures in a larger, shinier bowl and swamp with an increasing measure of memory loss, pre-combined with a good intellect and liberal serving of regret. Divide into thirty three pieces of non-uniform, random size and arrange into some kind of vague design. Sprinkle each with a delightful mix of depression and frustration. Leave to prove then knock back. Repeat this several times, being sure to allow room to stew. Finally, serve with a conservative dusting of budget cuts and any prescribed medication. This recipe goes well with all kinds of clueless idiot. You can usually find these anywhere incompetence is paid a salary. Enjoy. "View -
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merelyse - - "20 Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow’d night, 21 Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, 22 Take him and cut him out in little stars, 23 And he will make the face of heaven so fine 24 That all the world will be in love with night 25 And pay no worship to the garish sun. 26 O, I have bought the mansion of a love, 27 But not possess’d it, and, though I am sold, 28 Not yet enjoy’d: so tedious is this day 29 As is the night before some festival 30 To an impatient child that hath new robes 31 And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, 32 And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks 33 But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence. "View -
Zozojay - - "I realize you can’t always stay/ but still I want to know why you go away/ Even when I stare so I hurt/ Even when my lies fall in the dirt/ Even as I rub my face raw/ Even as my cry turns to caw/ Even as the words turn to dust/ And the need turns to must/ Even when you go. Still I, vaguely know. You won’t be coming back. "View -
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starfire1011 - - "It’s been over a year since I last visited this website. It’s so strange how much my life has changed since then. I no longer love the boy, My friends have splintered off and new ones have formed and the club that started everything that led up to this moment in my life is the one thing that is keeping my head above water. Writing is my only salvation. Yet sanity is insanity when it comes to writing. Especially mine. "View -
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