Thoughts of the Thoughtless
thoughts of the thoughtless comidacomida copyright 2019 it shuffled its way down the hallway.
Figments of My Reality (Poetry)
Figments of My Reality A sea of broken traffic lights, The lone flag in the distance, The slowly setting sun: All figments of my reality. I can't count the times When my heart was crushed: It feels too constant. Too steady, too easy. It all...
It's The Thought That Counts
He felt tears in his eyes, but everything was so clear, as he'd always thought it had been. "th-thank you." the head was soft, slow, giving a gentle nod of understanding as its large, round, exaggerated eyes opened.
Flux (Poetry)
Tried experimenting with having four syllables per line for some reason: i thought it had an interesting effect. the banks empty: lost, forgotten. there never was anything there. could i step once over that mount?
This is Me Challange...
Why is this me these words i type so fervently are my thoughts as they come to me, i may go back and check the spelling but never the meaning of the word.
Poem #38: Perception
_Perception_ I don t know what I _feel_ Is what I _see_, sight? Is what I hear, Is what I _hear_ sound? The _words_ all fall apart Inside my mouth Yet I cannot _taste_ them Cannot _touch_ them And then I feel my _nose_ fracture Into pieces,...
Post37
Hmm," laika looked off thoughtfully. "well it's your ship, do what you want with it, i just thought you would be happy to have a familiar thing. i'll leave you alone." she said depressed. "hold on," laika said grabbing the white dogs arm.
Second Chances & New Beginnings: Prologue
It was times like these that he wished that some form of capital punishment was still on the books for the animals that thought that abusing a child was the way to get them to grow up.
Restless Winds.
Worn and tired he falls asleep, wolf left to his thoughts.
Lost
#3 of poetry lost in my thoughts, nowhere to go, i couldn't escape, i found myself trapped. sometimes, the best way to get out of it, is to share it. to write, talk, draw, express yourself. lost and alone, i howl to the moon.
How to Seer, Part 24
"that preacher wasn't even thirty... how could people--" i didn't get a chance to finish the thought as warm, woolly arms wrapped around me.
In Thought
As much as I can hold to hate the things that I do, I hate what I've become out of my past actions. Love has torn me apart from the inside out and broke me down. As life goes on, I start to find no point in rebuilding on soiled grounds. Consistency; a...