If I tumbled into your arms
Now, after all this time
After all we’ve been through
I know we’d just fold together
Like two puzzle pieces
As naturally as breathing
Your familiar nooks and crannies
Would be all too familiar
Like a fish to water
I could slip right in
We’d fall into step and keep pace
It would be so easy
To pick up where we left off
And go on as if nothing happened
Three years erased like that
We’d just fall right in
I’d recognize every smell
And every corner as familiar as my own
You would feel so natural, so right
You’d be like home
I like to think I still know you
To believe I get it
But it’s harder from a distance
Up close, well, that’s different
We could go back, way back
I’d be so comfortable
No wasting time with “get to know ya’s”
We’re already like blood
You don’t just forget a person
Who knew you inside and out
There will always be a supernatural draw
Leading me back home
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
I’d rather be wonderfully wicked
And frightfully fascinating
Than be piously perfect
And dreadfully dull
I could be reliably righteous
And boringly bland
But why? when I’m daringly devious
And curiously captivating
To be goodly godly
Or delightfully devilish
How about moaning monotony
To my sensuous ****
Never curiously kind
Without poorly plain
Always sweetly sinister
And always attractive
To be good, one must
Want to be good
But why be good
When you can be bad?
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
In a purple haze, you smoke a joint,
And death would be an improvement
At this point.
Phone calls laced with ****
With open arms like an old friend
Welcome death.
Grab anything breathing and **** it.
It would be so easy just now to
Kick the bucket.
Make out with a boy, he’s gay
All the while wishing you could
Pass away.
Decide to sleep around with the crazies
And wake up asking why you’re not
Pushing up daisies.
Betray me with more than a kiss
***** around one more time
And you’re swimming with the fish.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
The wind blows across dry ground
The leaves rustle all around
It’s cold and dreary and ever so dead
And lost are the beautiful colors that bled
I am still, I do not feel a thing
It’s so silent, my aching ears ring
One step I take and I feel a little
But it’s only for a moment, then it settles
Gray prevails in this ending world
The leaves are the only things wind unfurled
They sink ever lower to join their clan
Who cannot rise to every again land
The cold air burns my senses
The fight has lost all pretenses
It is going to **** everything I love
All because of dark skies above
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
Close your ears and your eyes
Suddenly you know you can fly
I know autumn’s coming
I feel the atmosphere thrumming
It’s just a feeling in the air
Not tangible, but I know it’s there
It echoes in my nostrils
Touches my neck with lost thrills
The grass remains forest green
But at corners sickly brown is seen
My fingertips tingle against the land
The dying earth’s heroic last stand
It’s still warm as midsummer’s eve
But sunflower breezes take their leave
In their wake with all it can muster
Is a chilly rolling northern bluster
I gallop down the twisting street
A delicious scent and my own thumping feet
Invisible fingers caress my hair
It slaps at my face and arms bare.
Trees bend to earth to see what they may find
Dangerously near cracking, or is that my mind?
Leaves rustle, bows creak
Listen close to hear the weather speak
The sky is almost empty, it looks so still
For the moment it’s like a silence you must fill
Then the wind changes direction abruptly
And freezes my bones subtly
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
I am a turtle. But not really.
I have a bed on my back. In fact, I have my entire home on my back. It’s heavy and digging into my shoulders, quite painfully.
I am a turtle. But not really.
I am covered in green. My clothes are green. My face is green. Even my hair and hat are green. It’s an ugly shade, but it makes me nearly invisible.
I am a turtle. But not really.
So slow… so incredibly slow. I am crawling along, plodding, fighting my way through the underbrush. Even the bugs are faster than I am. I wade through waist-deep muddy and stagnant waters.
I am a turtle. But not really.
Everything around me is so big. Compared to the forest, the ‘copters, the world, I am invisible. No one can see a turtle down below, so small.
I am a turtle. But not really.
When danger comes, I drop to the ground and fold up, real tight. I pull my arms and legs and head into my plastic shell. To hide from the shells.
I am a turtle. But not really.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
Is it right?
Or is it wrong?
I thought my resolve was strong
Knew what I thought
Thought what I knew
Was exactly what is said to be true
Never imagined
Never considered . . .
That love is love is love unfettered
Now it's different
It's not sinful
Boys and girls - it's not that simple
It's heart
It's head
It's whoever makes your bed
Whatever works
Whatever lasts
Whatever it is that you can grasp
Nothing's worth it
Nothing matters
When everything in your life shatters
Come back
To the one
Who shares that thing that's never done
Hold tight
Don't roam
Because now you know, you've come home
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
This is the unedited version of our story. It tells you they how and they why so you can know who we are and why we did what we did. It has the parts that only people on the inside will see. If you want the shorter version, see the edited version.
There were five of us.
(Five is such an oddly even number)
Freshman who grew up to be seniors
(You don't really understand till you've gone through it)
There was the oldest, the skinny one
(Who seemed like the youngest)
He was tall and awkward
(Worked in his Dad's shop and strong as an ox)
He was so quiet and shy
(I knew him last, but understood him best)
He only texted
(He was afraid we'd see his curly hair)
He was uncorrupted
(With secret dreams of married ***
He was a lover
(Not mine, he was lover of his family)
Then there was the Latino
(He’s short, dark, good taste in music)
Amazing athletic talent
(Parkour was all he was big enough for)
A great friend
(Who was in love with my best friend)
Funny as hell
(I became "one of the guys" with him)
Romantic and gentle
(Exactly what my best friend needed)
Loyal and patient
(Their love was forbidden and everlasting)
Next came the little one
(My beautiful best friend in the whole world)
Obedient and but passionate
(Controlling mother, rebellious sister)
Younger than everyone
(But ahead of us in schoolwork)
Guileless and enchanting
(She’s my girl-crush, she’s everyone’s crush)
In love with the latino
(They ran away together for a weekend once)
The most bendable, changeable one
(Unpredictable and easily swayed)
Also there was the clown
(He was my clown, we belonged to each other)
Everyone’s friend, no one’s best friend
(Except mine. I could reach him deep down.)
Wannabe family man
(But he had no good examples)
Strangely perceptive
(But he couldn’t look past his selfish nose)
Always smiling
(But passively aggressive)
Ladies’ man
(They teased him about being gay)
And then there was me.
(How do I describe myself?)
Full of surprises
(That’s what they tell me)
Loud, rebellious, crazy
(I always say what I’m thinking)
Fearless, childish
(No one tells me what to do.)
Independent and devoted
(Never clingy, but “I love you” means forever)
Steady and never-changing, slightly judgmental
(I stood back and watched it unfold with tears and frowns)
That was us.
(Pretty easy to imagine?)
We were all connected, but also independent
(One on one, but a great group)
The boys fought
(They all can’t stand each other now)
Mostly over the little one
(She and I fought too, but it passed)
Then we fell apart.
(Gradually, till graduation)
We’re almost unrecognizable
(It’s lamentable but inevitable)
The tall one, the oldest
(He’s still embarrassed of his hair)
Got his first girlfriend
(Who ******* him and dumped him)
He befriended so many girls
(Like informal dating)
But secretly was dreaming of the little one
(She didn’t notice him at all, till now)
He’s leading his brother
(Down the same dangerous path)
And he doesn’t even know it
(I keep trying to tell him to stop)
The latino is mostly the same
(I haven’t talked to him for a few months now)
He doesn’t fight as much
(Mostly parties and works)
But he never got over the little one
(He couldn’t wait, but couldn’t give her up)
Now he just gets admirers
(Nobody makes him feel as important as she did)
He’ll grow out of high school
(Better than any of us, I think)
He already knows how to do life
(Perhaps he’s the luckiest of all of us)
The little one got so lost along the way
(So many nights, an almost-baby, getting high)
But I decided to stick around cuz she’s my best friend
(She slept with the clown, and he still makes me cry)
She’s already taking college classes
(Spanish and dance, to remind her of the latino)
She’s working with children
(Teaching them how not to make her mistakes)
Now she’s planning her life
(Getting married to the skinny one)
But she doesn’t seem happy
(There’s never going to be passion like there was)
The clown found himself friendless
(But not without girlfriends, lots of them)
He made a lot of dumb mistakes
(But kept them all a secret from everyone but me)
He still hangs around
(But we never talk anymore)
He parties and smokes
(I keep an eye on him, but he doesn’t know)
To hell with being good
(He doesn’t even pretend anymore)
At least he’s accepted his fate
(I wish we could still be friends)
And I’m lost too
(Though I’ve done none of these things)
I don’t party or drink or smoke or have ***
(It’s just kinda stupid and pointless if you ask me)
But I’m losing my religion
(I thought I was better than them, but I’m not)
Bad things have happened to me
(Stroke, death, sickness in the family)
I’m no better than my friends
(Though my body is clean, my heart is black)
I’m sad I’m no longer special
(But was I ever really different?)
And so we’re lost
(Am I the only one who sees it?)
Some are on the mend
(Or they look like they are)
But we made it through high school
(Who knew it would end like this?)
We got so messed up along the way though
(Was it really worth it?)
I drive home listening to Queen
(I’m a sucker for old music)
The clown showed me that one song
(I thought nothing of it at the time)
And I cry
(We are the champions)
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
This is the shorter edited version of our story. It tells you the facts, but it doesn't tell you the why. It leaves a lot of blanks that you can fill in, so it could be about your own highschool experience. If you want to know our story, read the unedited version.
There were five of us.
Freshman who grew up to be seniors
There was the oldest, the skinny one
He was tall and awkward
He was so quiet and shy
He only texted
He was uncorrupted
He was a lover
Then there was the Latino
Amazing athletic talent
A great friend
Funny as hell
Romantic and gentle
Loyal and patient
Next came the little one
Obedient and but passionate
Younger than everyone
Guileless and enchanting
In love with the latino
The most bendable, changeable one
Also there was the clown
Everyone’s friend, no one’s best friend
Wannabe family man
Strangely perceptive
Always smiling
Ladies’ man
And then there was me.
Full of surprises
Loud, rebellious, crazy
Fearless, childish
Independent and devoted
Steady and never-changing, slightly judgmental
That was us.
We were all connected, but also independent
The boys fought
Mostly over the little one
Then we fell apart.
We’re almost unrecognizable
The tall one, the oldest
Got his first girlfriend
He befriended so many girls
But secretly was dreaming of the little one
He’s leading his brother
And he doesn’t even know it
The latino is mostly the same
He doesn’t fight as much
But he never got over the little one
Now he just gets admirers
He’ll grow out of high school
He already knows how to do life
The little one got so lost along the way
But I decided to stick around cuz she’s my best friend
She’s already taking college classes
She’s working with children
Now she’s planning her life
But she doesn’t seem happy
The clown found himself friendless
He made a lot of dumb mistakes
He still hangs around
He parties and smokes
To hell with being good
At least he’s accepted his fate
And I’m lost too
I don’t party or drink or smoke or have ***
But I’m losing my religion
Bad things have happened to me
I’m no better than my friends
I’m sad I’m no longer special
And so we’re lost
Some are on the mend
But we made it through high school
We got so messed up along the way though
I drive home listening to Queen
The clown showed me that one song
And I cry because we are the champions
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
By The Madman http://leb.net/gibran/works/madman/madman.html
In the silent hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven selves sat together and thus conversed in whispers:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years, with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I must rebel.
Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is given me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary existence.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught was given me but the odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell, who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self, the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who, with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images and give the formless elements new and eternal forms--it is I, the solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to fulfil. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, when you are busy re-creating life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness, which is behind all things.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC