Burn Out Or Fade AwayMy fingers brush the smooth surface.It’s frightening, like the world. But there’s a difference: the difference is that I can grasp the gun; it’s so easy that it’s disgusting. The world, however, isn’t easy to grasp.I take a shaky breath and choke.They say killing yourself is the easy way out—but I don’t think it is. It takes courage and so many putrid and hateful thoughts; those thoughts keep you thinking, they keep you contemplating on whether or not you should actually die, and that’s why a lot of people back out at the last minute. They think about their lives; they think about all the people they will hurt, and they think about all the things they just haven’t done yet.I’m afraid, but I don’t care about the things I haven’t done yet. I just don’t care.I don’t care that I will die a virgin, I don’t care that I will die without kissing a boy, or that I haven’t snuck out of the house i
Crash and BurnDad yanks me outside the house while the rest of the firefighters clear out the kitchen. I stand there awkwardly, not daring to look up at him as I rub the back of my neck. Fifteen and I still don’t know better. Fire and accidents are just attracted to me; matches practically beg me to light them, and before I can really think about it, napkins are blazing and I’m waving my arm around like an idiot because my sleeve’s on fire.“What the hell were you thinking?”“Nothing,” I say. My eyes are locked on the grass, and it isn’t until I hear cake tins inside being shoved to the floor that I look into the kitchen again where the tins have a loud, and unpleasant greeting with the tile. I wince at the noise and a nervous chuckle shudders its way out of me.“Yeah, seems like it.” My dad glances back at the kitchen window where dark smoke continues to billow out. His brows are furrowed, and his mouth is turned downwards
SuspenseLittle Holland could hear it moving. The moving of a beast from a wild land underneath the place he slept. He could hear it dine on the dust bunnies that danced around with forgotten toys at the sock hop held under his bed. It just wouldn’t give up. It loved to keep him awake at night. It would shift and it would yawn a ferocious yawn from the void of darkness and then it would shift again, trying to get rid of the ache in its furry and very mangled back. The hum of traffic two stories below was just a dull backdrop compared to the loud living and breathing thing under his bed. All but a sliver of light from his curtained window was pitch black, and that too left him in a fit of frenzy. He was tempted to push the curtains aside to let in the moonlight, but it was too risky. The beast was scary because of its big red eyes and rather large and yellowed teeth. It was an image he couldn’t wipe clean from his mind and just thinking about it made him shiver beneath his li
Afraid of Monsters"What if he eats my legs?” A five year old Jack peers over the edge of his bed, trembling hard enough to make the mattress shake.Jackie exhales and looks across the room at her twin brother. She’s told him millions upon millions of times not to keep her awake when she’s trying to sleep. Her eyes squint at the nightlight her brother has plugged into the outlet between their beds, casting elongated shadows on the ceiling of their room that remind him of the monster.Jackie whispers into the dark, “Put your legs to your chest then.”“But I can’t sleep like that,” Jack whines, “It makes my legs funny!” “You gots to sleep!”Jack slowly sits up in bed, clinging to his baby blanket. “I-I can't. I can't here.”“I can't sleep with your nightlight!” With a huff, Jackie throws her blankets off her body, stomps hard across the floor, and yanks the nightlight straight
:Emergency:“We have an emergency!”* * *“Chris!” Nikki, married to Jack for little more than two years, giggled in a high pitched baby voice. “Walk to Mama!”The nine-month-old was helped balanced up to his feet by his father, Jack. Holding onto his son’s hands, a giant stitch grin stretched across his face as they watched Chris attempt to walk for one of the many times he had endeavored.Their only child gurgled in response as he plopped back down onto his bottom, the diaper cushioning the abrupt fall. The proud parents only laughed along as Chris grinned
+ KingSometimes it's me whogets the choice to keep.Our lives are affected, we're all chin deep. Water is churning as we are not earning, lost as wedrown in this hopeless creek.How could a man's mistakesbe a big joke?Why is it now that I quiver and choke? One man had the power to change this earth, for better or worse he made everyone laugh and most importantly hurt.Maybe it'll be years from nowthat some of us will realizethat we took him for granted,saying how much we had him to despise.Truth is, he changed the viewsof many people . . . he's notdead or gone . . . in fact he'll be something thatwill al
+Youth of HerYou can’t bestow anything upon her.I’m her protector,the loved one thatwrecked her.Her heart flies beneath her, kills her and eats her from the inside and out to fillher with envythroughout.She’s lost herselfnow to the darknessoutside. Now she cannot feel any good-ness from her insides.I’ll help make her unbreakable,coated in mistakable.She’s going to be my sin for everyone to see. She’ll be the oneI wish to be.Now she’ll be the youth of our people~
Cry For Me TooI'm sorry for my sins.Yes, hold me tight.I must hear aboutthe friend you lost.Here they fall asshe calls for therest she needs.Let me rest now.The bullets are flying asI seek the love betweenus that she has erased.Filth has ridden off with it all, all of my life.Stares of my eyes gladly froze their darkened hearts,their crying hearts that only tear for the sins they committed.Yes, hold me tighter becauseshe must stop, she must look.Hush. I’ve only spun so far.Maybe I’m sick because Imove through all of thisso fast, too fast.I’m almost incomplete again.Put a bullet through her spit
All We Ever WereAll We Ever WereTears stain our cheeksbut not as much as that bloody heatcurdling in the air It wishes to defeat us, only to break usbreak us down, down to the ground.You found me in thedarkest roomyou found me seepingthrough for now I amas blind as can beyour face is somethingI will never see.I cry too much anddo not feel my painI wish to stop butthat’s your match.Childish and rude,incapacity and crudeare the things you mar,mar upon my facein the most disastrousplace, place in my heartVain is your gamethat twirls between your fingertips as you throw the diceand let it rip,rip
+Paper Heart -- Ch. 4It was alight. Everything was hearty and everyone was laughing. Even the three of my friends that stood by me were talking about their boyfriends and how great life was. I never felt so alive as I proudly walked along with them to a carnival where there was music and street performers. Every ride looked thrilling as we shuffled our way through people and vivid colors. People on the rides were screeching and laughing until they cried as they twirled upside and downside and were thrown around enough to make our heads spin.We shrieked in delight as we saw some hungry pigs cooped up in a pen, eating various scraps of foods that were scattered a
All I'll Do is Burn Up - NikNackIt’s been half an hour after school has let out, and we’re still here in the theater, but I don’t mind it. Not if I’m with her.“Hey, does this flower look like a flower?”“Hmm?” I look over in her direction, wishing that I had been watching her paint instead of reciting my lines to myself.“I think I might need to add a lighter blue to the petals.”“What’re you talking about?” I walk across the theater’s stage and look at the background she’s brought to life.“It looks . . . flat.” She stands to her feet and looks up at me, green and blue paint smeared across one of her freckled cheeks.I feel myself grin like an idiot and just stare at the painting in awe. The green vines swirl together and all of the petals are flourished. “No, no . . . it just looks so . . . Nikki.”“So Nikki?” She giggles a little.
InsomniacJust how much does it hurt to die? Finn lies on the opposite end of his bed so he can stare up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. This is the fourth night he's gone without sleep and if it continues he's well on his way to becoming an insomniac—he can feel it. He sees dainty people and images prancing around in the cold ceiling as headlights of passing cars seep through the curtains of his window. The lights of the little people hide in the edgy craters of his ceiling, and bodiless voices fill his heavy head. He's found it harder to sleep on an empty stomach and a mind brimming with so many thoughts. But even though his stomach grow
Sta.sh
