Skin Deep [Full]Skin Deep
Disorder"What do you do?
Participate in our prompts given out every Friday. Submit your piece and it could be featured here!
How I Love YouHow I Love YouHow I Love You by Michel-le-fou
How do I love you?
Let me explain.
I feel a thrill up my spine
every time I say your name.
My heart is pounding in my chest
every moment that we meet.
And whenever you hold me in your arms,
you sweep me off my feet.
You are my breath and my life.
You are the only way I can exist.
I live for your embrace
I live for your kiss
Your nearness makes me laugh
and makes me cry
And if you ever leave me,
then I must surely die
Vital AssetVital AssetVital Asset by Michel-le-fou
When you have treasures,
They may be lost
But they can be replaced
I have had treasures before
Some were lost
Some were stolen
But I have one asset
That I will never lose
Even when I die
It is Love
My most vital asset
Though it may be replaced
It may not be the same
Our love will survive
Through each age
"How many lives we have lived
I may not know
But I know we were together."
Ruba'i of Puabi IIRuba'i of Puabi IIRuba'i of Puabi II by Michel-le-fou
Now is a time of warmth and calm
To embrace one's love in one's arms
To speak sweet, tender words to hear
In her small and tender ear
For now those on high, or perhaps below*,
Reject my scary fiction but they won't tell me so
So that move makes me free
To write my dedicated poetry
Today we feasted on a promotion menu
We ate once before so 't was not new
But we enjoyed it all the same
Because we always do
And she raised the slice to my mouth and smiled
Her eyes watched me eat all the while
Then I held her in the grip of velvet gloves
And she whispered to me
"I want only your love!"
Only youAnother day passes slowlyOnly you by MorganWolfram
Life keeps on fading quietly
My years have been spend worthlessly
With no feeling fraternity
I walk my way solemnly
Make my path formally
All eyes lay on me respectfully
I'm treated like the great solely
But I owe them back disgracefully
I put them aside disdainfully
I whip my worries mercilessly
I am a powerful weapon ultimately
But my bullets are stunned by you so suddenly
Your Kindness shoed away my troubles so charmingly
You helped me upon my feet willingly
You expected nothing back unconditionally
From that moment my mind was on you individually
Even with all the fuss; you smile caringly
Pain was caused and you suffered sensitively
But you said regrets will go gradually
I don't care if there is no money surprisingly
You changed me astonishingly
I won't let a burden fall on you, even mistakenly
How can you be so gentle admiringly?
Don't hesitate to hold my hand tightly
But please keep smiling constantly
My eyes shall remain for you promisingly
I shall love
Scorched 1.1The moment the train stopped, she rushed out of her seat, ran out of the door, pushed her way through the morning crowd, and sprinted to the University. It was just her luck that her train broke down the day of an important exam. She wound up taking a different train which came later than its arrival time. Her eyes were fixed on her watch and her hand was securely on her book bag.Scorched 1.1 by Erin-Lynne
"What happened this time?" the receptionist asked Prishe as the Asterian burst through the doors of the University. She didn't look up from the desk but Prishe could hear the shuffling of papers as if she was reaching for something.
The young Asterian laughed uneasily and signed in. "The train broke down. I can't talk; I've got to get to class!" she replied, darting down the hall.
She took the stairs, figuring that they would be faster, but was quickly flooded by students. She was determined, however. She had never been late before and she wasn't about to start. Not caring who she plowed by, she continued tak
Scorched P.1She woke abruptly to the beginning of her favorite song—a loud, energetic low-brass song—and fell out the chair of her desk. She hit her head on the side of her bed and had knocked over several sheets of paper which were now littered around her. A groan passed her lips as she removed her headphones. The light in the room made her eyes sting until they adjusted. Her blueprints, essays, and medicine homework were on top of her bare legs, making her nerves tingle.Scorched P.1 by Erin-Lynne
After sitting in the odd position for a while, she took a glance at her watch. It was going to be a couple of hours before her regular alarm would go off. She sighed, stiffly collected her work, set them aside, and got up. Every muscle in her back and legs were screaming at her, but she paid little attention to it as she yawned and stretched.
She sat on her bed next to her work and stared at the walls for a while, collecting her thoughts. She would have classes today, and her work needed to be done, That way she woul
Rise of JERICO-- ProloguePrologueRise of JERICO-- Prologue by Erin-Lynne
The room was silent as he sat there, reading his book intently. A few candles were lit around the room, casting an eerie shadow across the figure. Two years he had spent in solitude, never leaving his mansion, since the end of the of the war. He rarely came in contact with people, unless it was one of the AMBROS prisoners that needed to be punished. Everyone who knew of him feared him; he treated none with mercy.
His name was Viare.
Lightning flashed outside as the rain began to patter on his window. He put his book down when he heard a metal ping of a kicked gate outside. He stood to his feet and looked outside his window to see a man with soaked, fiery red hair jump off the barrier gate. Viare curled a slight smile on his face. “Again? When will he learn?” he murmured to himself. He turned from the window and left his room.
The guards were startled by his presence. “Send the hounds. It seems our guest hasn’t been broken in. Bring him back
Shroomy and her Melancholy state of AffairsForward from this: http://hebbybobdige.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d5hapii sceneShroomy and her Melancholy state of Affairs by Hebbybobdige
Okay let's discuss Shroomy and her completely un-endearing un-cheerful and un-attractive state of affairs. Firstly you must realise that Shroomy's life was far more dismal than most. Those at her school find her (in their own words) a 'skanky, ugly, creepy little bug-eyed weirdo'
You see when somebody isn't what you would consider 'normal' people have a tendency to ridicule or be afraid of this person. Shroomy being no exception to this, she would spend her time at school sat alone on a table muttering strange things to her only friend who was named 'Scarlett' and she could be seen only by Shroomy. Whilst the rest of the class formed their own, chattery little groups consisting mainly of people who would consider a scruffy, bug-eyed girl constantly whispering scary things to herself a strange sight indeed, therefore nobody wanted to talk to her.
You may or may not know that somebody who exists in
.photographs of me..photographs of me..photographs of me. by Amanda-Graham
There’s smoke still hanging in the air; lurking low and white, like a Frisco fog but thicker ‘cept where the air blows it in long stringy threads like sour milk drifting in the sink water. It’s a throw-away zone thing. It stinks of oil and sulfur and hot tar bubbling in summer; ‘cept it ain’t summer. You’d think that stuff that burnt in winter would smell like the sides of Cali cliffs in flame wouldn’t ya? Doesn’t though. There’s no incense scent to it. No tight wound drift of pot, or myrrh or pretty pine Christmas trees piled up and flaming after collection. It’s a seething slurry of bad industry burning.
People are standing round in twos and threes watching it as little ash whirlwinds dance spirals in the heat that's still hanging onto hot spots. It’s warm enough now, just above 0 degrees C, that the water they’d pumped is wet on charred
.hey lover - how are you tonight?..hey lover - how are you tonight?..hey lover - how are you tonight?. by Amanda-Graham
… take any story, yours perhaps, let’s take yours. Take your unwinding story and surrender all meanings you wish upon it; any meanings, and just retaining those body feelings attached to the smallest sequences. Don’t let your mind put a history to it, or time-stamp, or causes, considerations. Just a huge tumble of images and emotions, vignettes; a pile of colored individually wrapped tooth immune hard candies. Sucking and clattering them against your small teeth.
That’s your life there on the table, that growing pile of shiny-metallic foil wrapped events. Now stir it and lift them out singly, randomly; opening each, one at a time. Again, no ego and so no “Oh I remember this and what came before and after” just the one isolated flavor, hallucinogenic, a convulsive vision, a fever delusion with you floating in it; experiencing it all with every detail down to the
Thoughts during a bus ride at nightBlack.Thoughts during a bus ride at night by AlilliceMFC
Is this me?
Am I myself?
Or am I
the black figure
the mirror shows me?
All those people are black.
Am I one of them?
A cat runs by.
I couldn't disappoint.
who couldn't hate me.
There's the void again.
The void has no end.
Through My Dusty WindowsThrough my dusty windowsThrough My Dusty Windows by AlilliceMFC
I see the shadows dance by;
But I'll stay home,
for I don't belong.
Through my dusty windows
I see the seasons pass by;
But soon everything's gone.
Way too soon.
Through my dusty windows
I see the stars shine bright;
Casting light into me,
Twinkling without sorrow,
Far away dreams.
But then the sun pushes them aside,
So bright that I am blinded.
In my broken house
I sit and watch
It all go by
And I can't move.
Sometimes I wish to get out
But then I realize
That it'd shatter my soul.
. rail .. rail .. rail . by Amanda-Graham
It’s a misnomer; an absent appliance, robbery of the worse sort. The bar’s not got one though named as though it would hold some premiere placement. In this city it should be gleaming brass and a minimum of two inches in diameter, rolled and shaped and bracketed along the styles and sheathing of a gleaming dark-polished wooden front-piece. It should be history. Misapplication and misdirection; the crumbling edifice is still maintained but slovenly; some miscreant remembrance of the sixties or seventies when people still believed a Jetsons™ future were possible. It carries its appellation based solely on location; nearby is a stop on the city’s trumpeted transport line, the “L".
“Fuck this Susan.” “Give it a chance.” “Really?” “Yeah, it’s not awful and some of the guys here are just too sweet.” I turn and stare openly,
Mommy loved...Alright, we're going to go visit Mommy.Mommy loved... by Everlasting90
Why are we going?
Because it would mean a lot to her. She loved you.
No, she didn't.
How can you say that?
Because it's true. If she loved us, she wouldn't have left us.
That's not fair. She had a problem. She tried to give it up.
But she didn't. She loved the pills more than us. That's why she left.
OG's of OlympusFADE IN:OG's of Olympus by StevenGilby
Cars are driving through the busy streets. One guy, Marcus, stands on the cold street corner smoking a cigarette in an open frenzy. Another guy, Dorian, comes running across the crosswalk as the light ticks to red. He’s calm but his nose and cheeks are red from the cold.
Lemme bum a smoke. You got a flask? Mine’s empty.
Marcus holds an open pack and lighter in one hand for Dorian. After putting them away, he grabs a flask of blueberry sherry from his inner coat pocket and hands it to him. It has a two crossed broadswords on it.
Chilly as hell today.
Dorian looks around after a silent moment smoking, not seeing what he wanted to.
Where’s EDDIE at? I told him 3 o’clock. It’s almost 5. Is he ever on time for anything?!
Well, I got good news, better news, and bad news.
Dorian is visibly irate at the existence of bad news.
Start with the good, move to
Thumb On The Mob (Part 1) Amongst the light foot falls of officers going about their tasks, one set stood out as it sounded louder through the precinct, heading from the entrance over to the holding cells. The man to whom these foot falls belonged was tall; about six-four, and thin; not lanky, but like a bean-pole. His black slacks danced on the top of his black shoes, his dark-blue tie wriggled ever so slightly under the slight heaving of the man’s chest, but his bluish-gray waistcoat held it to his faded sky-blue shirt.Thumb On The Mob (Part 1) by BDancinJones
The man slowed himself down, actually stopping to tap his slightly damp forehead with his sleeve, before turning the last corner into the viewing side of the interrogation room. He proceeded to enter the room, and did so with a certain swagger in his walk and a sly smile sitting in the corner of his mouth. In the room stood a mid-twenties woman in work-place formal dress and an early-thirties officer in uniform. On the left wa
.it was just a name after all..it was just a name after all..it was just a name after all. by Amanda-Graham
To be obsessed with someone who is negligent at best … is that search for satisfying the insatiable the reason for this place? Is it why I always remain? A revenant with such violent demands and capabilities my body could never sustain? Which of us is truly the psychotic spirit obsessed?
Psychic or physical – I impose impacts paranormal. Let me in. Picking your single voice from this hiss white noise, fading in and then back out in clarity; you singing with that soft drawl; your songs of loneliness. Is it just bait laid to entrap? Do you dwell in life so deeply longing that I’m on your breath? Move in with me to this space of emptiness that I possess, that is what my heart pumps cold and damp, parched and longing, starved and demanding I’ll thump your walls and taste your hungers. Surrender, but retain your strength, yield to pleasures the human only drips in ink; t
. tentative .. tentative .. tentative . by Amanda-Graham
I, in duplicate, reply.
"How are you?"
in reply i
"to make this easy; I'm fine."
out for snack
"Nice to see you again."
"Ja, you look good."
minimal, she's beautiful
takes a while
"That your hand?"
hoping she's oblivious
off key first
mezzo alto joined
defining love as
we’ll be fine
© Amanda 2014
Image: "whispers" by :iconbeyondimpression: © 2014
. women only .. women only .. women only . by Amanda-Graham
.one of those days.
'tried it all's
as first thoughts
fallin like stars
hard flamin rocks
. and .
she was the trickery
of the leading 'and'
that tugs on the line
that signals your mind
will fill in her blanks
. la Résistance .
you didn’t want to know
looking in the mirror
walking in public
exposed for what you now are
no longer secret
no longer spared
face to face with it
still in denial
your body hates you
more than you ever
too long a coward
. women only .
A nice room where we gather, there’s a view of the narrow parking lot and the shrubs and mums are well
The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 1The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 1 by Ooakfeather
The Reaping will be tomorrow. Everyone in District Four is trying their hardest to keep their minds off of it by indulging themselves in hard work at the oceans. Instead of working and moving around, I find myself sitting in the sand, soundlessly watching as the people nearby knot fishnets. I won't have much to worry about this year. My twin brothers are only eleven, so they won't have to enter the Reaping until next year. I'm only fourteen, and with the three members of my family, I do have to take tesserae, but luckily, it's only in twelve times. I shouldn't be as worried as much as others, but I find that I actually am. The thought of it is frightening. I can hardly handle a spear, killing a fish is mighty easy... But a human being?
I look up from my thoughts and find Annie Odair walking on the beach with her fourteen year old son, Finn. I'm not exactly sure why, but in District Four, we find them to be lege
The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 2The 89th Hunger Games Chapter 1 Part 2 by Ooakfeather
The morning felt short, and worry was setting back in my mind. We made our beds back, and I got ready in my turquoise dress. Mother put up my hair in a ponytail, and set the bow perfectly. I am ready. The happiness from last night is gone, and I walk out of the house with my brothers and mother, hand in hand. We take the path to the town square, as well as the rest of our District, walking in rows as a family. Either teary eyed or shaking, trying to hold back the tears. Trying to think that their own family will stay whole another year.... But the hope is lost to us. Both of my brothers are shaking, and I can tell by the grim face on my mother, she isn't doing well either. I try to keep a firm hold on myself, making sure to try and stay calm and settled so not to worry them, but it's a very difficult task to accomplish.
When it's time for us to part ways, I give each of them a kiss on the cheek, and whisp
.-.Silence.-. [Scourge X Reader]私の愛の沈黙は沈黙を守ってたことがないはずです。.-.Silence.-. [Scourge X Reader] by galewings
keep in mind that this takes place after World War ll
The deep laughter of crows reached the peaks of the sky, giving the battered place some hiff of it's silence. Vultures snickered and cackled amongst their grubby meal of a rabbit carcass, their skin-bared heads making quick movements as their battered beaks snipped and poked at the motionless body. The dead rabbit's fur was wet, covered in blood and the vulture's saliva. The mice that flees amongst the worn town sniffed, peeped, and stuck their tongues out at the vulture's careless work of a meal. Even though they were cute, yet disease-filled on their part, the black cat had to agree, the mice were right on being disgusted of the vulture's filling.
Scourge knocked a rusted can over to the side carelessly has his ov
Flight of the EagleIt was the last week of university. Classes were complete, exams were taken. It was the time for the students to find a job. Lucy sighed as she perused the job choices. None of job offerings appealed to her. She didn't want to be stuck behind the desk; she wanted to be out and about. Adventure and action were her calling. She logged out off the computer and got up.Flight of the Eagle by tyw7
Maybe I needed a breather. Time to cool my head. Lucy thought.
She headed to the wardrobe. She grabbed a towel and disrobed. Although age has filled her in considerably since her stick figure days, Lucy wasn't particularly curvaceous. In fact she was stronger than most typical girls (or boys). She was sure she could take even the strongest bullies in a fist fight and win.
Staring at the mirror, she could see faint scars that covered her face. She paused at the one that under her left eye. The same mark that she had sustained when monst
The ShelterJack had no trouble carrying his share of the load from the market. After all, he had been doing much more than this since young to help his mother. And he even had to do it, carrying all four plastic bags full of food, all by himself. The current two plastic bags he held were nothing. Samuel was quite strong for his age as well, but he was definitely not used to this routine. He started to mumble a bit in complain, although he did not do more than that in fear of upsetting his big brother.The Shelter by testerga
“Tired already Sam?” Jack teased his little brother.
“It would be better if there were less stuff in the bag,” Samuel said in reply.
“Your fault for eating so much,” Jack blamed.
“You know, the market would actually be super fun if it wasn’t for the load,” Samuel said.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll have all the time to get used to it,” Jack said “You’ll be following me to the market every week.”
The Dragon Queen of the First Imperium>Solidarity Hostile Airspace, Specialist Operative Isaac "Spanner" Cooper in route to PriTek Global Headquarters, bastion of rising insurgency, January 12, 2714 - PST<The Dragon Queen of the First Imperium by thwackcrackers
"The City of Angels," Eli scorned, gazing out the gunner's view of the small Argos dropship. The scraping metropolis of Los Angeles lay strewn far below him, an incoherent maze of skyscrapers and highways laying haphazardly in all directions. "What a shit hole."
Eli glanced over his shoulder to witness the Operative, Spanner, sitting with a large M933 Trinity assault rifle cradled in his arms like a newborn baby. The Operative scraped all thoughts to speak deeply away and simply stared at his partner.
"You know the crime rates have escalated three times this past year?" Eli continued. "The Royal Family has attempted to put a stop to the revolts with curfews and marshal law. I don't understand why they don't just send in the Inquisitors."
An amused chortle garnered Eli's attention. "If the Royal Family dispatc
Hybrid, Prologue: The Last BattleHybrid, Prologue: The Last Battle by Bclement117
The Last Battle
In a room filled with glowing blood crystals, a tyrian purple reptilian man sat in his high throne engraved with gargoyles. His hands waved over a hovering holographic map of the Milky Way Galaxy. He laughed as shades of purple covered nearly all the map.
Only Okma was highlighted in blue at this star system. He touched that star and an image of a planet flickered above the map. The planet had ships flying around like bees warning each other of danger.
“Oh Spacers,” the man chuckled. “All your worlds are destroyed by my touch. Your corpses are disintegrated by my footsteps. You don’t stand a chance in the universe. Now, my Titan Empire has become my galaxy against your world. You will all perish.”
A spiky armored-Titan entered the room. “Lord Seiton, my men are ready.”
His throne creaked as Seiton turned to the soldier and smiled. “Excellent, activate the relay and set our cours
The Eternal Bond of a Dragon Rider"It's rather shallow." The healer noted, cautiously peeling away Rhilahan's bloody shirt. He meticulously studied the wound along the Ranger's lower back before applying the numbing balm. With nimble fingers, the elderly healer began stitching the torn skin back together. His attention to detail did not falter even among the growing cries of pain in the crowded chapel. Anyone with any sense of medical experience were thrown into the fray helping the wounded and easing the dying's final minutes.The Eternal Bond of a Dragon Rider by thwackcrackers
The past two days brought nothing but death and grief for the people of Eyrarfell. The ongoing conflict with the Gnolls may have dragged the Duchy into three years of bloodshed but never did the peaceful villagers of Eyrarfell believe that the war would march to their doorsteps. Half of the village still burned and many innocents were slaughtered. The healer couldn't help but admire his patient, the man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere with a contingent of rangers to aid
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 2CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 2 by HewhoDrawsALOT
A WAKE BENEATH THE TREE
A faint voice had begun to reach out to him from a place beyond the void. Soothing his soul as he awakened from the ruins of the gritty dark, he felt something within his wandering self being guided toward the whisper. His mind had hit the on switch. His eyelids rose in a slow creep, and he saw the true light. Overwhelming, he attempted to open his eyes wider in order to diffuse the shining multitudes. Still he was smothered by the blanketing rays. His eyelids instinctively fluttered in order to adjust his vision, and the brilliance of the morning sun subsided. No longer veiled behind the gleams of the day time star, a girl was revealed hovering above him.
Upon noticing her, the boy immediately blushed. But after reading past the fairness of her face, he found a wide-eyed stare that had been wispily offset by her alarm. He knew exactly what happened to the girl, but it was much too early in the morning for him to become irritated with, whine ab
CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 1CONFLICT: Act 1 Chapter 1 by HewhoDrawsALOT
The lightning is dancing. Swirling with grace as sparks flicker with white, sounds reminiscent of bird hymns ring. Streams of energy bounce from invisible air bells, producing this ionized chime. Static purity is in complete harmony, and the holder of this chirping performance is but a boy bearing a rood necklace, free from mar. With a dotted array of shining spirits fending off the darkness as the moon has taken its leave from the sky, so does his sparks on the Earth. The essences of the night are kept by the glimpse of lighted peace frolicking on the skin of his palm, but not without cost.
The stage of this beaconed performance, the hand of the boy, is on the verge of total collapse. As the tap dancing light batters the surface, his palms are stung by the undisciplined slivers of electricity he has implored. These reckless bundles of light have been harnessed from an unknown core beyond the furthest depths of his being. Simply having them emerge from this
. memes to dismember me with .. memes to dismember me with .. memes to dismember me with . by Amanda-Graham
We want to know who we are, and alone, we find no answers. We turn to the eyes of others inquiring, "Do you know me?" At times we suffer their silences. Much later, in those moments where endings are being approached, we wonder, ‘Was it what they saw of me?’ or ‘Had I made other choices, at some point earlier on, would this moment have been avoided?’
Our meanings, seeing ourselves, occur only as echoes. The sound of footsteps in dark alleys, in Marseille perhaps, where I was uncertain in my language, so involved in thinking that I missed what it was she said softly. I caught only the words "... your beauty is too subtle." These years later, it's come upon me that that was her goodbye and I'd been damned by looking with microscopes at what I thought I was seen as, and that she'd seen what I truly was.
Our minds are flavored by all of the accumulated histori
Choice in the DirectionIf being gay is a choice, then so is being straight, bi, etc..Choice in the Direction by Everlasting90
The truth is we can't choose the feelings,
but we can choose the direction.
. fortune cookie messages .. fortune cookie messages .. fortune cookie messages . by Amanda-Graham
what you want
leather an lather
mirror reflects a glimmer'n light
tilt of helmet
booted and grimacing
- remembers –
' ... i'm about ... '
her loyalty and love
precision of her self-assessment
countered only by the weight
of the rocks tucked in her dress
sisters of the shadows
blurred in passing
ouuuu Clive Barker? umm errr wot about
Hemingway - dead
Plath - still dead
Pynchon - doesn't really exist
my list is long and plays like a wax-tube recording
names and places those writers and poets roamed
while I remained a child trapped by obligations
only reading, imagining, formed scenes far from home
not a come on
simply a moment of
Chapter 1: The Tempest
Young Nyck awoke to the muffled roaring of crashing waves. The shaking boom of thunder seemed to clear his eardrums. His eyelids opened, revealing a blurred vision of lightning striking out of a dark blue overcast sky. He felt his body rock up and down.
Nyck's vision clarified, the lightning striking out of the sky was a pale blue. The smell of rain and the seawater entered his nose. As he lifted himself up, he realized he had been lying on the damp floor of a launch. His eyes widened in bewilderment as he looked around at his nautical surroundings.
Nyck placed a hand on his throbbing head. What happened? How did I get here? Is this a dream? The last thing he remembered was staring at the ceiling of his hotel room from his warm bed, trying to fall asleep.
The undulation of the boat assured him that this was no dream. His stomach felt it was dropping.
Three piles of damp ash surrounded him, some of it spilled from the heaps. He frowned at the mounds. Where did they come from?
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