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my howls are silentI, too, see the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness. We are decomposing too early, our souls dying before our bodies can catch up. We are silently ravenous, a quiet craze in our hearts, not quite the same as your generation, Ginsberg. We do not shriek "Holy! Holy! Holy!" as we burn. We drown soundlessly.
The overeducated, proud products of postmodernism dissolve in a lukewarm soup of ennui, bored balloons filled with hubris rather than helium. Fragile dolls with flaking bones and hair and skin like flowers wilting, weighed down by indomitable wills and insecurities... these plastic girls starve to death and diabetes in the car beside me, fantasizing about food in the passenger seat. Former nymphets gouge symbols into themselves, the bleeding crags physical outlets for the demonic depression, for the memories of beloved older brothers molesting them in the living room, while her mother sits at a hospital bedside beside a fading father.
I see the most remarkable minds crippl
your song reminds me of swimmingslipping into the cool cerulean blue
unwrapping myself in this u n d e r w a t e r world
until I am mentally naked
beneath the liquid ceiling
my mask m e l t s away
sugar and spices and everything niceness
and all my pretendings drift apart, dissolve
I swallow the sound, and it swallows me whole. The church bells are echoing in my head, their clangs in my heart, shaking me, reaching into my thoughts and rendering me speechless. Your Lolita, your Rosita, a Maria. I want to be all of them for you. The idea frightens me, and the cold fingers of fear clamp around the beating organ beneath my breasts and squeeze, and again all words leave me. Years of ingrained love of tradition and devotion to conservatism beat against my brow, and the threat of discovery and migraines plague my mind. Moths pester me, tickling the walls of my stomach; and coals burn slowly beneath, Hell's Gate, II, simmering. I apply my cherry chapstick with shaking hands, tossing furtive glances towards my family, paranoid that I'll be discovered fraternizing with another potential lover yet again.
And discovery, this time, would prove fatal, lethal, to my stuttering heart, that bird named Moses dying in its birdcage, my ribcage.
Dear , Dear $@&&$@,
I am disgusted by my longing for you. It revolts me, repulses me. My craving for someone to openly feel affection for me transforms me into a twisted, hideous beast; a manipulative, whiny bitch; and a petty, simpering airhead. I despise myself. I detest what I've mutated into, this sick creature. You could have loved me once, but these rusted knives of sentences, covered in my blood and vomit, have warned you away. Beware: Keep fleeing.
For I long to be your little snowflake girl, your petite American muse. I want to bask in your so-white smiles, bathe in your dark and wild eyes. I adore your funny Anwar nose and your Ralph Lauren cologne. I want to be present, cheering you on, when you graduate in fifty days. I want to be standing there when you celebrate your doctor-ship, when you're holding your med school diploma in a de
no, pleaseI think, despite all the objections against love that I so boastfully proclaim, what I crave most is for someone to steal away my gaze, hold me softly by the shoulders, silence me, and tell me quite seriously that they love me.
oceanThe Ocean's tides flow and ebb like the moon's,
Waxing and waning, never sleeping, no,
Thinking they can tame her, foolish buffoons,
Tried to control her, she dealt the death blow.
Drowning in her fury, unwise sailors,
Thought they could rule her, break her, chain her,
Murdered with a vengeance, curse'd horrors,
Their corpses lost, no killer much crueler.
Volatile, barbaric in nature,
Deceptively sweet, secretly sour,
Seemingly benign, not one may conquer,
Poise'd to pounce, waiting to devour.
Violent, unrestrained creature this,
None can resist her luring, deadly kiss.
Irregular VerbsI am disputing
You're having a tantrum
He/she/it is a whinging nancy
I am offended
You are too sensitive
He/she/it is passive aggressive
I am hopeful
You are delusional
He/she/it is a selfish prig
I am rugged
You are ugly
He/she/it is evidence against human evolution
I am enlightened
You are snobbish
He/she/it is a cocky pig
I am needing
You are wanting
He/she/it is trying to deprive me of my rights
I am right
You are wrong
He/she/it is unable to compromise
I am capable
You are arrogant
He/she/it is a narcissistic fool
I am knowledgeable
You are misinformed
He/she/it is sane if he/she/it agrees with me
I am culturally sensitive
You are obsequious
He/she/it is a politically correct bolshie stooge
Why Asami Sato is One of the Best Characters (imo)Asami Sato.
Everyone hated her the first time they saw her. And even all throughout Book 1, the hatred only got worse. In Book 2, she was liked more, but Book 2 itself was hated so much, some people gave up on Korra entirely. And now, in Book 3, she's loved.
And why wouldn't she be?
In my personal opinion, Asami Sato is one of the best characters in Legend of Korra. Why?
How about we start with her personality? She's mostly feminine, but not a girly-girl. She's kickass, but not a tomboy. She's a sweetheart, and a tiny bit of a snarker. She has one of the most unique personalities I've seen in a cartoon girl, especially a teenage cartoon girl. How many of them are sweet and feminine yet can handle her own, without any superpowers (bending)? She's a sweetheart, a badass, and absolutely lovable. Of course, she has flaws, like holding grudges easily, but she's more lovable this way, since she's not a Mary-Sue.
How about her going through so much crap, both in and out of canon? She endures
the mechanisms of ocean waves When I was little, I loved sea foam.
Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.
By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fragile lace like a fine seamstress, hoping to maybe sew it onto the edges of myself, make myself some semblance of Aphrodite. Yet it crumbled, leaked through my fingers, leaving only the trace of salt behind.
Eventually I gave up on the sea foam. One cannot keep chasing after things that just barely exist.
My father told me never to plunge int
AppointmentI thought I heard someone sneaking around out there.
Hello. Please, take a seat. Would you like some...no? Suit yourself then.
If you don't mind, I'm just going to switch this on. No, no, nothing special. That noise? No, it's just me. Try to block it out, it's not important.
So, you sought me out, did you? Most people do, after all. And would I be correct in thinking that...what? Oh, yes, of course, here you go...no, not a problem at all. Anyways, like I was saying, would I be correcting in assuming that you have sought me out in order to beg for more of me? Mm, I thought so. That's generally the answer I get. I know, weird, right?
Hmm? No, no, don't mind that, it's just me. Don't worry about it.
So, what has brought you to the point of begging? I...hmm? Well, that is what you're here for, right? You thought, you thought... what? The sign outside was rather clear, wasn't it? Yes, that's what it says. And it means that you only get to be here for a bit. So, let's start again, sha
Time Takes It All, Whether You Want It To Or Not I did not know it, but I was dreaming.
The sun setting at my back warms my skin. My arms are outstretched like the wings of a bird, fingers splayed to catch all of the rays that I can. I inhale, and the scent of soil and dry, humid air fills my lungs to their full capacity. I have never smelled something so lovely, never been somewhere so peaceful, and yet, I feel as though I have seen this terrain before. I strain to remember, but it gives me a throbbing headache when I attempt to delineate the strange feeling of deja vu, so I give up. Perhaps it is not that important. If it were, the memory would not be so difficult to elicit. I focus instead on the tall grasses that gently sway from a breeze. They tickle my bare calves, raising goose bumps on my flesh even though I am not cold. The shadows spanning across the ground catch my attention once I open my eyes. For one thing, there are two of them. I thought that I was alone, and my heart stutters and picks up speed at the t
Our Ritual Dismemberments...And when she spoke the world shrunk down and became simpler, softer, a better imitation of itself that held no possible pain. Like a dollhouse with its utopian storyline that was, by nature, created by those with young and innocent lives. Somehow she touched that world with her voice, despite how often it fled her grasp.
"I ignored it for years, which is a good thing I suppose. But now I'm unsure where it started, where it truly began, because I spent so long pretending that it wasn't there. That I was normal, like the others. Not normal, but...equal to them? Not broken in any way."
She paused as her words caught in her throat, some squeezing through strangled and malformed-- a discarded thought in process. This was one of the many symptoms I had seen in her, a gross reality composed of many images, many small horrors that no professionally removed medical manual could possibly prepare me for.
"I didn't know what it was called. I wish I had at least known its name back then. A name
RememberDo you remember all the sunsets we have seen?
Do you remember the days when we cried over life?
Do you remember the sleepless nights and the nightmares hunting us?
Do you remember the fears we shared?
Do you remember how we wanted to just close our eyes and let the world around disappear?
He knew it was somewhere in the back of his mind, in the middle of all the brimming chaos and confusion of thoughts and privacies. It wasn’t as if he’d lost his sanity, that he’d become a madman. He’d never had it in the first place. It was the veil of obstruction that clearly defined who he was and was not. Like reaching into the back of the darkly-lit cave, he sprawled through the recessess of things in his psyche that he cared not for. Things that the world chose to dump in his indifferent basket of a mind. It was in the back of all the debris where he found his object. His delusion of immortality.
What is strange is akin to seeing a new colour. It rests just beyond the grasp of the perceivable precisely because it cannot be perceived. Thus the strange retains the quality of being strange. Or so she thought it to be in life. It wasn’t a dogma or a motto for her. Not really. It was a ruleset that s
The MoonI sleep on the moon some nights. It’s pretty cold but I’ve left a blanket up there now so it’s not so bad. You might not think so, but the moon is a lot more comfortable than a bed - or at least, my bed. It’s never really dark up there because the star are always playing and laughing. They tell some pretty extraordinary jokes, believe it or not. But the moon, the moon tells the grandest tales. The moon has seen a lot and there’s been many others like me who slept on the moon and told their tales and lives to the moon. Someday, others like me will probably hear about my tales and life from the moon. I hope they do not become too sad hearing about it. I get sad about some the tales and lives of others like me told by the moon. I wonder if the moon gets sad. The moon hears a lot of these tales and lives from others like me.
unanchorageWhen I write,
I slip into a damp nothingness, vaguely
and shuffling through a smoggy coma,
shedding the individuality
anchoring me to
It's an abandon of the consensual mind that
an escape in to the symmetrical mess of this planet.
I am not my own,
it is only here where I find
buried inbetween my lungs,
and my heart.
what love is not.it was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain,
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth,
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
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