I drowned the thought of you in my 11pm Sangria ritual to chase away the demons that plague my mind, that tell me I am not good enough for you. The bed we once shared now suffers from a cold spot from where you use to lay with me. We use to generate so much heat when our bodies touched that I thought we would become hotter than the sun. You use to tell me how beautiful I was; that I held my Moscato white wine with such great precaution not to spill it that you thought I was an angel carrying a soul to the hands of God. You knew my heart was delicate. After all, the very sight of me sent venom pulsing through your veins, sort of like you wanted to destroy my already-feeble bones. Your anger teased out shyness in me, and when you decided to lift your hand that one faithful night to smack me it sent me crawling on my hands and knees for forgiveness, just to see that we wouldn’t end up on the road my parents once were. You made tears swell up in my eyes when you were inside me, and soon I learned not to cry when you decided to plow my body, a land for the taking. Parts of me started dying, and soon I was nothing but an empty shell with dampened eyes. You took, and took, until you got furious at me that there was nothing left to take. Sometimes I still sit in the corners of my bedroom silent because you loved me most when you saw me there, your tiny little ghost just waiting for you to make her disappear. And on some nights when I was with you, disappearing didn’t seem all too bad- you use to scare me enough that I wished you had removed the love marks you left on my alabaster skin. What we had was toxic, and I was on life support just to get by the fact that I was nothing more than your special object. Day after wretched day you tortured me with ‘I love you’s’ and smacks across the face that caused blood to erode from my cheeks. My voice started to shake and yelps came through my mouth when you decided that my contorted body was a pleasure worth seeing, that my pain was the very essence of why you ever loved me to begin with. I can’t remember the first day you started to push me under, but I know that when you did you would never let me come up out of that black water for more than 3 seconds, just so I could get another gasp of air to last me a couple of more months. I will never regret the time you told me I was worth more than you, because maybe that was your healthy conscience talking. Maybe you could have loved me better. Maybe I could have listened more.

All I can say is that I will never forget the time you choked me hard enough that I couldn’t breathe; that you smacked my head so hard against our bedroom wall that the snap sent my brains splattering across what was now your floor.  

-ritual

conceptcollection

Once fully liberated, she rides her antique, three-speed bike down the small hill from her campsite to the:  RESTROOMS – SHOWERS – PAYING CAMPERS ONLY. She dismounts and goes into the well-kept, recreational facilities and takes a hot, 50-cent, seven-minute shower, arching her soapy back against the white tiles, rubbing her soapy front in the same spot, up and down and up, and then, rinsed, she stands, dripping wet in front of the first full-length mirror she's seen in weeks, gyrating her hips, mocking pin-up poses to herself and all god's good-looking men with a sense of the absurd, then she wraps her towel around, tying the knot between her *******. She stands outside in the sweet, Santa Vidian air, finger-drying her hair and imagining, unabashedly imagining, guys in the campsite above, eating fresh-cooked meat and ogling her. Then she takes off down the road, pale green nightgown fluttering against the rear spokes, past Bonnie's trailer where from sundown till 11pm you can hear the best country music: Randi Travis, Willie Nelson, Hank Williams Sr. She pulls up to her sweet “Bleu Belle,” shushes the dogs reflexively, hops off the bicycle, and turns, eyes closed, face upraised into a rare shaft of redwood forest sun.

It's 6:00am, I'm getting ready for school and wishing I could text you good morning.

It's 8:23am, I'm laughing with my friends and wishing I still had to take mental notes of the conversations so I could tell you and make you laugh too.

It's 11:34am, and I'm pushing my food around my plate wishing you still asked me how my day was going.

It's 2:30pm, I'm leaving school and wishing I was on my way to your house to lay on your bed and laugh with you.

It's 5:56pm, I'm sitting in these hard metal chairs at work wishing you would come visit me again.

It's 10:45pm, I'm getting ready for bed and wishing I could tell you good night, and to tell you to have sweet dreams.  

It's 11:11pm and I'm crying again wishing you were here with me.

It's 1:02am and I'm still crying and now there's blood mixed with the tears and I'm wishing you were here to tell me that it will all be okay.

It's 3:17am.. My eyes are puffy and sting, my cheeks are itchy and red.

It's 3:19am, My heart is torn to shreds.
And I miss you.

It’s Sunday morning, 7am. My phone jiggles and a Doja-cat ringtone jars me awake. It’s Kim asking if we want to set out for some frisbee golf - you have to tee-off early on the weekend to avoid the rush. “No, I moan, not today” I say, licking my emery-paper dry lips and trying to focus my eyes on the giant LED numbers of my alarm clock, “Leong and I got shot,” I add for maximum dramatic effect.

Later, about 11am. I’m lead-ball tired and so is Leong. My arm hurts so bad I can hardly lift it. Leong says hers does too. We’re kind of binging “Riverdale” but, in reality, we’re curled up, blanketed, and surrounded by pillows on the living-room sectional couch, napping off and on.

It’s slightly odd, being at home again with my mom, who used to manage everything about me. She knew when I should go to bed and get up, what vegetables and fruit I ate. She knew my teachers, who my friends were, when I had homework due, or needed a dental cleaning, when I had a doctor's appointment (although she really was my doctor), how I was feeling, if I had my period, when I took a bath, when my sheets needed changing - everything.

Now my mom has her brakes on - I can see her sometimes, flexing to comment on something, like our plan to go to the pool party the other night at 11pm, but stopping herself.

I guess I’m a different (university sophomore) me and she’s a different (more hands off) her.

Leong’s very Chinese-respectful around my parents. She calls my mom “mamma” and Step (my stepfather) “baba“ and practically comes to attention whenever they address her.
They’re just parents,” I say, denigratingly, “relax.” She nods, she’s trying.

Early yesterday (Saturday) morning, Leong and I were in the kitchen, at a round table, deep in our kitchen bay-window area, where we’re surrounded by plants and hanging ferns. My mom was making us a pancake and bacon breakfast (yum!), which was lovely, in theory, but Leong and I were badly maimed (hung over) - which I’m willing to bet she guessed. The night before we went to a high school graduation throwdown.

“Do you girls have plans for tomorrow?” My mom asked, as she transferred several pancakes from a frying pan onto a baking sheet in the oven.
“Nothing in particular, why?” I replied, as I looked up to eye-drop my seemingly sandy eyes.
“You’re going overseas in less than two weeks and I’d like to have you two covid boosted before then. You might feel tired or sore the next day,” she said, as she flipped her latest set of four pancakes in the frying pan, “so getting them today would be ideal.”
I look to Leong, to check her reaction and she shrugs with her coffee cup to her lips.
“Ok,” I say, “sure.”
“Leong,” my mom begins, “do you need to check with your parents?”
“Mom!” I almost shout, reacting harshly. I’m hung-over, mercurial, and embarrassed that she’s treating Leong like a child.
“No, Mamma” Leong says, looking at me, frowning - stepping over my outrage, solicitously - both answering the question and calming me down at once.

My mom transfers the latest batch of pancakes to the oven, where there’s now a flat baking pan piled with them. She closes the oven, flicks off the gas burner, picks up a silver tray that was lying on a side table, covered with a kitchen towel, and comes over to us.

She lifts the towel and we see two covid booster syringes and alcohol wipes.
“Now?” I say, slightly alarmed (I’m not a big fan of shots).
She raises one syringe to the light for a brief inspection and taps it twice. She cleanses my right arm with an alcohol wipe, gently pinches an area and injects me with one quick, smooth motion - I hardly feel it. She steps around to Leong, who’s also sleeveless, and repeats the process with the other syringe.

And just like that, we’re all boosted, in less than a minute. She hands us both our updated covid cards and says, "Alexa, announce breakfast is ready.”
Doctor moms can be handy.

9pm, 10pm, 11pm, 12pm
I want to reverse time
12pm, 11pm, 10pm, 9pm
and - i crave to reverse time
9am, 12pm, 10pm, 1pm
stop - now nobody move
just look - just look as
i lay like stale food,
waiting to poison you
under your consent,
you, the person i speak to,
the person i see - as i stare
into the mirror
you - you stale food
i stare at you - i know you, Miss inhu'man'
"Miss inhu'man'"
Men and women to the world
Men and women of the world
stare into mirrors, I'll come through
like stale food - stale food into the mirror
flies around me, now buzz buzz buzz
give me company, within this solidarity
I see you, I see me in you
i am the men and the women around me
i am my stale food
i eat myself off the ground
the flies like audience,
they buzz buzz buzz like an applause
i consume and i consume and i consume - my reflection
my reflection - i present to you again Miss inhu'man'
the person - the performer -  in the mirror - in the crowd
as i continue to feast and feast
until the last of me
the flies, buzz and buzz
as i lay, as i screech
the last sound in me

Kaya SS

weekends these days are what weekends are supposedly meant to be...days of pleasured nothing that fills you with intensity.

The intensity of just living easy, is hard to learn because it is kind of forgiving yourself for not working harder which is guilt melting like a glacier - slow but not too slow.

but eye stray from the topic.  with nothing planned, we drift from morning bed to breakfast (3 poems done before that!),  to what to do and because we never would, we did.  Go see Furious 7 in an empty theater, on a Saturday afternoon.

Awful. Noisy like when your ears hurt cause of a passing ambulance.   Lines delivered in a not how to act corny that all just fall  short of incredible bad funny hysterical....ugh...and the car chases are just ok.   So return home to I get my once a week home cooked meal in a city that never stops eating, or closes, and delivery is 24/7 and almost instantaneous (Chinese is instantaneous) (Fyi)).

before you know it is 8:30pm and we fall back into bed to watch old movies we saw years ago and remember fondly (Mr. Hollands Opus, Hairspray, It's Complicated).

Around 11pm, eye just turn sideways and am gone.  

she wee hours watches, till around 2am, but then eye awaken, and find her almost always, hand in mouth, tablet lying on her chest, and her glasses on...eye shut the TV which means finding the remote hiding in the sheets and isn't always easy. Tablet transferred to the night table.

But the glasses, that is last, hardest.

With two hands, while out of bed, indeed, standing surgeon-like over her, eye remove in one fell swoop her glasses and she does not stir, mumble, utter, groan or notice.

this successful stealth operation is the high point of a perfect day.

Never enter the pool by the stairs
2. Don’t ever dumb it down
3. Talk to seniors
4. Don’t pose with alcohol
5. Don’t pose with drugs
6. Don’t pose with *******
7. Don’t make out with ******* on video
8. Don’t make out with anyone on video
9. Eat your vegetables
10. If you can drink your vegetables
11. Don’t ever smoke
12. Read a lot
13. Carry your mom’s groceries (she carried you for 9 months)
14. Know at least 1 good joke
15. Surround yourself with smart people with ambitions in life
16. Don’t wander around with people who don’t know what they’re doing
17. Brush your teeth 3 times a day
18. Read a lot
19. One day learn to dance to cringy *** songs because it’s better than awkwardly sitting on the side by yourself
20. Don’t dress slutty (be as slutty as you want but don’t act it)
21. Be elitist
22. Don’t litter
23. Learn your national anthem
24. Always buy the railway stations in monopoly
25. Try and eat dinner on the table
26. Consent is cool
27. Don’t talk in movies
28. Don’t call people between 11pm-11am
29. Always open the card first
30. Never save the wrapping paper
31. If your wrong mid argument chance your name and move cities
32. Talk to your grandparents more
33. Thank the bus driver
34. Tip the pizza guy
35. Buy a silk robe to sleep in
36. Don’t lie to your doctor
37. Be proud of your music taste
38. Don’t gate crash parties pls
39. Educate ignorant people
40. Look hot for yourself
41. Hookup with people who genuinely give a **** about you
42. Its ok to show up to parties by yourself
43. Watch every good detective movies from 1987
44. Learn to have fun without alcohol
45. Once again cigarettes aren’t cool
46. Don’t sneak onto public transport – buy a ******* nol card
47. Don’t take life too seriously

TIC-TOC by Jessie 5/06
10pm. I go to sleep
11pm., awake
12am. I toss and turn
How long, will this process take?
1am, I grab a drink
Read a little from my book
2am, I have to ***
From the drink I took
3am, dozing off
Until startled by the dog
Can’t remember the last time
I was sleeping like a log
4am, the moon is bright
Shining in my eyes
Pull the blanket across my face
From the light, I hide
5am, it’s hard to breath
Take the covers off my face
Still can’t sleep, I hear you snore
While the ceiling, my eyes trace
6am, one eye is shut
I’m tired and I yawn
Sound asleep, I start to dream
Then wakened by my alarm
7am, time to get up
Shower, shave and eat
Head to the car
Drink in hand
Shuffling both my feet
8am, punch the clock
Sitting at my desk
Lean back in my chair
Feet are up to rest
Blink one time too many
Until, they open not
5pm time to go
Some sleep I finely got

Pacing back and forth
All in empty space
Going in endless rounds
Can be my nightmares
Can be your daydreams
Can be sad beautiful fears
All the dreams, all big things
All the thoughtful prayers,
Wishing countless blessings
The little voice I owned,
I wish you would hear.
Crowds would scream your name,
Trust me, millions love you.
The crowds are your sea,
Sparkling in glee...

And I know, I know...
You might not return.
Hardwork equals to victory
That keeps me happy, too...
Right? I should be, I thought...

Difficult are the days
As I get space
Tighter it gets
To suffocate,
You're a ghost
Haunting me everyday,
Thinking I might mess up
But I'll tell you,
"Don't worry, it's okay.
I'll be just okay."
Fearlessness, I will show.
I fooled the world,
Worse of all, I fooled myself...
Of masks and shiny smiles

Perfect masks never match broken hearts
Cause I just miss you and I wish you know.
Repeating to myself,
" I know you'll come home.
I know you'll wait for me."
Hardly could wait for your return,
As this pain will vanish into air
As I get to meet your eyes once again.
Darling, it's 11:11pm...
And all I wish for everyday is you.
Before the sun sets,
I'll find myself right beside you.

Injustice!
Posted by Olivia Kent on June 4, 2013 at 3:11pm
View Blog
Suffer not thy children,
In a waiter service world of injustice,
Nothingness in a world of tragic poverty,
In a drizzle of tears,
The children drown
Emaciated children,
Not smiling as they die,
In world of war-craft,
Dying,
A little more each day,  
Not smiling as they should,
Punished,
Living in a punitive  world of cruelty,
Where craft of war is rife,
Screams,
Imagined in heads of strangers,
Insanity,
Piercing with horror,
Ears sickened,
By violent imagery envisaged,
Emaciated child,
*** bellied,
Gaunt,
Virtually lifeless,
Dead before death,
Snatches,
Life blood vanished,
Without request!
There is no youthful exuberance on this face,
Overjoyed,
Delighted,
I don't live in this place!
Copywrite Livvi Kent 04/06/2013

“i wonder what she looks like naked” he thought
it was 11pm
he had been in the shower for 10 minutes now
letting the water get hot
turning his face and skin red
he had sat down
he stared at the blue rags in the corner of the shower
one was used to wash his back
the other to wipe his *** when he ran out of toilet paper
another to scrub his face
Now they've grown mold
They've almost grown together into one big rag
He stared at the hairs on his legs
He stared at his ***** hairs
he closed his eyes and let the hot water cleanse him
He felt good
Looking through the Showers obscured glass
he was able to see the toilet
it was Blotched
zig zagged
smudged by the glass's perception
He felt good in here
he understood things looking through the showers glass
He understood that things were there
but are in many forms all at once
and that perception
is the most beautiful thing

standing up he grabbed a plastic cheap blue razor
sat back down
avoiding the molded rags
and shaved his face
Chin
Left cheek
Right cheek
Above the lip
Neck

He Felt Clean
He felt like a boy
a newborn baby
Unsure of the things around him
but understanding
the unsure was nothing to be afraid of
nothing to worry over
That the unsure was good
It meant you were still curious
He stood up
turned the water off
stepped out
stared at his naked hairy body in the mirror
looked at his face
it was clean and smooth
The things outside of the shower glass  window were smooth and cleanly perceived
But the understanding
was the same as a man, naked with bright blue eyes
looking through his warped shower glass window
wondering what her ******* and legs look like.

Kung fu tutu is on the daily
Never taking this off
Kicking *** and taking names
******* alert goggles equipped
You'll need to learn Aramaic
To read these tomes honey
Left you at the START line
Muttering "Woe is me"
While circling the cage of your grave
Reaching full potential
Occurred constantly in thought
Yet your actions or lack there of fell dismally short
Peers, reserve your pity
For he was led by example
Those whom he chose to surround
Also lacked luster
While those brave few who shone
Grew brighter
I used to think he was a rough edged diamond
I realize now, all along, he was *dust

here in Australia
in less than an hour
it will be tomorrow
and I have to say
its looking ok
for those of you
lagging behind
Trust me, the world
is not ending tomorrow
but if you wouldn't mind

I understand there are
Dragons to be slayed!
Demons to be fought,
and extracurricular actives
to be played

But not for me :)
I'm sitting outside
on a padded bench
wishing for bed
but you don't play nicely
Hello Poetry
You **** me in
with friends who wake
as I want sleep

*Where is the fun in that?

I seek comfort unconventionally
Finding a certain joy in moments
That tend to linger
Or in the mundane, the ordinary
A car ride at night
Down the dark tunnel of I90 at 11pm
With the hum of the engine numbing the senses
And the headlights blending together
The exhaustion of the hours
Leaves you waiting for the end
And yet
I’d take that car ride forever if I could
I guess I find comfort in the certainty of Your presence
And the way Your words are contained
Within the soft interior of my car
As though they’ll stick with me longer
And the words come easier knowing
They’ll find no ears but Yours
In these moments I like knowing
I can look forward
And still count on You beside me

My town.
a lonely place
full of the drunk
and the depressed

the fat belcher
coming home from the bar
at 11pm
rambling nonsense and nothings
to the moon and stars
because no one ever listens anymore

teenagers walking
down cobbled streets
at midnight
thinking about how easy
it would be to disappear
because no one misses them yet

the party-hards
blaring music through windows
at 1 in the morning
to distract themselves
from the monsters in their head
because the sound is an antidote

and the observers, like me
who sit and watch
at every hour of every night
and see the nooks and crevices
in this broken little town
and here we sit
typing away our little report
of the drunk and the depressed

we're not like them, no.
we can't be.
not in this
lonely
little
town.

Watch movies about daughters who killed their fathers,
you are obsessed with paintings that are crude words written in children’s crayons,

and your wife exhausts you,
you can’t stand how
her shoes match her gardening sheers,

your house is intentionally or unintentionally patriotic
red doors, blue shutters, white vinyl,
hey I’m successfully sedated,
it’s so much easier this way,

I don't even have to drink scotch to fall asleep by 10,
"at least I don't have to pay women to **** me,"
I was proud of you for that one,

everyone tells you "I’m one of the good ones,"
chairs set in an illuminati triangle around the dinner table,
you ask your daughter how school was, she says
"spectacular," the poison trailing from her mouth to
the carpet to your loafers,

cameras everywhere,
through the window,
through the drapes
your wife is on a dinner date with your boss,
your wife is in a motel with your boss,
your wife just wanted to **** a powerful man for once,

you sell me **** in your garage,
my dad sent me to an institution but I fall in love so easily,
I watch your daughter in a shadow on the lawn at 11pm,
I convince your daughter not to **** you,
convince her to run away instead,

hours of film of small private lives,
the glare from the window pane
not enough to obscure how embarrassing people are,
but I love you for this,
the best footage being
inanimate objects dancing in the wind,
it’s proof I think of forces in the world
we don’t recognize at first til we feel them,
then we can’t stop recognizing them,
then we can’t stop trying to get them back,
then we spend our whole lives in pursuit,
of that evasive silent lightning strike,
moments before a kiss from a beautiful sad girl,
how it hurt a very specific part of our chests,
but like in a good way;
like in the best way possible.

1.  a curbstomp/a caress/a question of faith.
youre laughing but everyone can tell
youre looking for the door.you in a glass tomb and them watching you rot.
2. youve had the same dream five nights in a row.
you dont tell anyone. they dont care.
3. youre young. you feel empty. you dont know how youre supposed to be
but
you think that this is wrong.
4. 7am wake 8am school 9am 10am 11am 12pm read 1pm school 2pm 3pm 4pm leave 5pm 6pm 7pm home 8pm 9pm run 10pm 11pm 12am 1am 2am 3am sleep repeat
5. a funeral. you are at home,
trying not to get ***** on your nice black dress.
6. your friends are all unnerved by you. you are trying to fix it. you watch how life is supposed to go
and try to do the same.
everyone is unnerved by you.
7. a funeral. you are trying very hard to care.
its not working very well.
everyone is uncomfortable. no one is crying. you get dirt on your nice black dress.
8. you are very smart. you are a very smart young woman. youre just unmotivated /
youre angry /
youre hateful /
youre selfish/solipsistic/spiteful/youre
bored youre so bored you feel so empty it
hurts.
you feel so numb it hurts.
you feel nothing and it hurts.
9. you are so scared
10. you are so scared
11. you are so scared
12. you are so scared
13. ██████████

11pm is when
my brain finally wakes up
8pm is when
I usually go to bed

Which means

I spend most of my waking days
Asleep.

Welcome to my Scary Halloween Spooky Party Night -Theme for a night is a creepy illusion light for a reflection blurred of an eerie life. its Demon the spiritual faces to ready for the Party night, Which is Making out to be the Bestest crooked Halloween spooky might.
I bet this party will be a great spooky late at night"& Cracked at all time..
Date: 31st Oct at 11pm
Venue: Hallow Town of  Stuffy street
Costume : Creepy Hat with a Long Spooky Coat dual colors — usually red and black..

    Special Spooky Party Menu...
             ....Starter....
 Blood Soup with Cheese Croutons
                   &
         Fried Nail Parcels...
                    
      ..... Main courses.....
  Twisted leg With crispy Shoulder...
                   &
     Roasted Pepper teeth with Blood drink...
     King Nose Sizzler with Sticky Ears..
                         
         ......Desserts .....
   Pudding Skin Custard Creme

Hope u have enjoyed my Invitation card.. so plz dare to come &enjoy; the scary night to remain till the next time..
                                                          ­             -Chirayu

As I am exiting the Abandoned Castle to retrieve what Aziel asked me to get for him a thought comes to mind.. - I wonder what he is going reward me with- I follow a short trail that quickly leads me to the Forest of Whispers suddenly I hear Aziel's voice echo in my head. Aziel: "Frank follow the Trail of Tears Northwest about 12 miles from where you stand there you will find yourself in front of a small creek follow it to the end and to your left there will be a small cave and to your immediate right there will be a huge stone that's been there for thousands of years it's practically impenetrable. However, I will land you my power to pass thru it but first you must enter the small cave and retrieve a sacred relic from it. Good luck my Mortal friend." Frank: Aziel what if I get lost? What about this relic and what do you mean you'll lend me your power?" Aziel: "Don't worry I will explain everything in full detail once your at the site and don't worry about getting lost...A raven will follow you from now on and if you get lost just whistle as loud as you can it will fly ahead of you to show you what route to take" Frank: " Thank you Aziel I will keep all that in mind." As I press on deeper and deeper into the Forest I am fascinated with its Beautiful scenery.

It's 11pm and I class start to get weary so I sit down in the midst of the woods in the Forest. Suddenly I hear a weak gallop like some sort of horse coming closer and closer to where am sitting...so I get up hesitant and finally I see a figure come out of the wilderness and to my surprise it's a creature half man half horse and I whisper to myself "Whoa it's a centaur...." The centaur gets closer to me and it speaks to me in a cold voice....
"What are you doing here in the middle of the Forest almost at midnight human...don't you know it's dangerous to be out here?" I look at the mighty centaur his lower part of the body is indeed a horse with furs at it's feet and the color of his full fur is golden yellowish. I examine his human half and he is covered by battle scars and he seems quite strong in his upper body. I also notice he has green eyes the color of emerald and what seems like 3 claw like scars in his face. I sit quietly for a moment then reply ... Frank: " I made a promise to retrieve something for someone and I am here to fulfill my task." He smiles at me and proceeds to talk. Centaur: " My name is Neur Blackthorn I am the Leader of the Golden Centaurs protectors of the Forest of Whispers. You see am looking for a sacred relic known as Ghruthemtox it's a breast plate made out of the skull of a Cyclop known as Mathalam who lived 3000 years ago here in this very forest and was the Creator and protector of this very place known now as The Forest Of Whispers. Legend tells that whoever finds all the pieces of the breast plate and wears it will be granted 1000 years added to his life span and tremendous magical power. I want this relic in my possession. I heard there are 5 pieces to the breastplate all scattered in this very Forest. If you are able to come across the relic itself it will guide you to all five remaining pieces so legend foretold. It's some sort of magical map the relic itself...but I heard it can only be touched by human hands because if it's touched by anything else the creature or being itself will perish immediately." -Neur looks at me attentively- Frank: - " So let me get this straight...you want me to get this relic for you? Am I right?" Neur: " That's right...in return I shall grant you what you seek from the forest. So tell me what is it that you want to retrieve?" Frank: " I want a vial of her blood from the Goddess of the Forest...Nabyah." Neur: " I will talk to her in your behalf...but I cannot guarantee the blood itself." -I look at Neur with some disgust and disappointment- Neur: " Fine Mortal I will do my very best to retrieve this for you as long as you can find me the relic..." -All the sudden I hear Aziel telepathically communicates to me and he says "Frank what are you doing meddling with Centaurs you cannot trust them...It's a dangerous task he asks of you plus he might **** you after retrieving this relic I advice you play it safe and tell him you will do what he says but with your own mission." Frank: -I speak to Aziel telepathically and I can do this due to the fact he lands me his power to do so...in order for both to speak to each other without no one else knowing...- "Right don't worry I am going to pretend to aid him then do my own thing..." Aziel: " Smart young lad ...don't worry he won't know nothing and by the way I advice you try to stay away from this Centaurs I think they might be linked to the Goddess herself...somewhat." Frank: " Right...now I will proceed..."

All the sudden Neur looks at me with curiosity...Neur: " You look like you where day dreaming for a while...fine I will leave you alone, but please find this I will reward you with what you seek I promise. Now get some rest I will come back to you at midnight" -He dashes towards the darkness of the Forest and disappears in the wilderness...-

--->TO BE CONTINUED

KEY


Trail Of Tears the path where many knights from the Order have shed blood sweat and tears. Many of them have never made it out alive.  Golden Centaurs Protectors of the Forest of Whispers who settled in the Forest 1000's of years ago. Accursed by a Powerful Witch they where once human but no longer have retained their humanity. Now creatures of the forest some of them seek to lift up the curse.
Ghruthemtox An ancient relic worn by a Cyclop Shaman Creator/Protector of the Forest Of Whispers that gave him strong magical prowess.

In the night of  September the first. At 11pm or so.
The love of a mother came and rested upon me.
Your hands are rough and wrinkled. I felt it with my hands. You held me like that too. When I was little and young and didn't knew how hard it was for you to give birth to me.
You are so precious to me.
I held you tighter, slowly as tears went down my face. My heart filled with thankfulness.
Thank you. Mother.
For loving, caring for me.
For washing the dishes, and cooking me meals.
For paying the bills and bringing me to school.
For ironing my clothes. For scolding me too.
Thank God for you.
You would hold me and kiss me.
Like that night that I was sick.
I was a little kid back then. With a pad to cool my fever down.
You placed your hand on my forehead.
I still remember the sound you made when you rubbed your hand against my forehead.
When the childhood memories and fears came in.
Thank you. Mother.
One with such a beautiful heart. And hands that held me close.

I saw a young man working in a Kroger a few a-little-while's ago.
He was putting bananas in the designated banana display,
and as I passed he smiled to me,
In such a kind, purely, beautifully,
human
manner. And I smiled back,
as one does,
matching his sincerity I hoped, or what I perceived as sincerity
and anyway he spoke.
Saying hello and inquiring if I was well and I responded that I was and returned the question.
To which he looks around at his current state; being surrounded by a staggering amount of bananas and shrugs and says "having a blast". Which I find humorous,
as one does.
I laugh and he laughs and I continue shopping. I weave through the isles leisurely because it's past 11pm in a small town Kroger and I wasn't quite ready to leave for whatever reason.
And
I see the pleasant blonde banana Kroger worker get up and proceed to dance to 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot" in a tall uncoordinated jig, singing into a banana which sounds too story-book to be true but alas.
And
I remember tilting my head involuntarily as a look of curious fondness swept my face.
And
and I love human moments like this because they're still and unchangingly pleasant, full of what if scenarios for late night can't-sleep thinking.
I left.

Well around Easter time,
or
well actually precisely on Easter, in the afternoon time I stand checking out my groceries in the self-scanner
as one does
and I see this fascinating young man
yet again,
this time clad in a bunny ears headband, which I find endearing. And I stare a little longer than I probably should have, more than likely wearing a complexly fond expression
yet again.
He meets my dreamy gaze and
surprisingly hold the eye contact for a moment longer than I would normally grant strangers. As we were on our way out he said goodbye to my group.
And, once again, I left.
Left wondering what would have happened if I went up to bunny banana boy and exchanged pleasantries and names
Left wondering if the goodbye was directed to me or everyone
Left wondering if I should shop at Kroger more.

Most kids would dress their barbie dolls and have tea parties at the age of six.
I am a somber person.
At the age of six, I’d often lay in bed and think of ways my marriage would come to an end if I were to find a Prince Charming.
I learned from my mother; two divorces made an unhappy woman.
After three years of marriage,
I would still wake my husband at 3am and ask if he still loved me.
“Silly girl, of course I do.”
We’d go back to bed, his arms securely wrapped around my waist.
I felt utterly safe.
Now,
I can’t pinpoint when all these “late night shifts” started just how I can’t pinpoint when I first started being depressed.
Then came traveling frequently for “conferences” and with it my panic attacks.
I found “her” more than 6 months after it begun.
Now, I’d often stare at her Facebook page.
She had dimples and looked so jolly in every picture.
Me,
Eyebags and morbid.
Every time I looked at her, I would forgive you.
Sometimes, I’d “coincidentally” be at the coffee shops she goes to.
Then it was the clothing boutiques.
Before I knew it, I am wearing clothes she’d wear.
My makeup is done eerily similar to hers.
Today, marks five years of our marriage.
You said you’d come home for dinner.
That, I, cooked the best meals.
You’d bring a bottle of wine.
We’d dance to the first song we ever did to.
**** till dawn breaks.
11pm.
No show.
The food is cold.
The house is cold.
I am cold.
At this point, If I could, I was willing to strip out of my skin and wear hers.
12am and there is a creak of the door.
You come in, take me in to your arms, hands on my waist just like any night, two years ago.
I can’t really focus on the mantra of your apologies,
because
  a)   We both reeked of the same perfume
  b)   We both reeked of the same perfume
Perhaps, I have already started shredding my skin.

Under the light of the moon.
You’re still a mystery to me.

And every night in my dreams I wonder
if you hear the soundtrack of my soul.
Like I hear yours.

They were not interested in the forests.
Or how many Asians died?
Nam Viet was a restaurant
Open from 8am-11pm each day.
And summertime in Hue,
means cheap ***** and handmade suits.

All around the girls in golden tight dresses,
who can hardly walk in their six inch heels.
Sell cheap cigarettes from table to table.
Always with a smile and a look at their *******.

On trips to Hanoi and Hoi An,
the code to Vietnam's  literary treasure.
They asked thin questions with no light
“What about the Women Andrew”
“What about the nightlife and the girls”
“Do you think they’re ****?”
"How expensive are they?"

Someone in ** Chi Minh City asked me
"Why do people think like this?"

I guess it is easy, if ugly is all you know
Calling to nothing, and the fall of the future.

I have never had such a hard time
meeting anyone in my whole life.
Weeks...months... - Last week you
could only meet me at 11pm. Now
you have trouble meeting me at
9pm? You told me you are not
working. Last week you had a job,
but when I asked you about it, you
did not answer. Never ever had such
a huge problem in meeting anyone.
EVER! If you want to meet me fine.
But this is a lot of trouble, trying
to meet you. I am free weekends.
I do not work weekends. I am free
weekdays after 9pm. It's all up
to you what you want to do.

i dream of her.
the sweet shell of her body. the warmth that pours into me when she smiles. the predatory feeling that overwhelms when the soft, warm skin is exposed to me and i dive down to sink my teeth into it, grazing the pale skin with only the utmost love. letting go? "i know i cant keep my teeth in your neck forever, but letting go?" it seems like more than just removing my teeth from her neck. the naked swell of her ungodly body making me feel safer than the sound of pouring rain. (that's hard to beat) clear as day i know i want her.
nonoNONONO-**** THAT. I DO NOT WANT HER.
I DO NOT WANT HER.
WANT IS NOT A POSSIBILITY.
my feelings overwhelm me like a tidal wave crashing down on the soft sandy shores that you have a gradual disliking for. i do not want her.
i need her. more than i need to breathe.

had to bite my tongue
I almost said I love you
from force of habit

There’s a difference between calling a girl fit and hot and calling her pretty and beautiful
When you call me beautiful I imagine you noticing the way my hair falls from the clip over time
I imagine you noticing the way my giggle sounds and the way my smile lights you up
When you call me pretty I imagine you noticing the complexities of my eyes, the way my freckles come out in the sun and and depth of my dimples
Pretty is noticing the way my legs are sculpted when I walk ahead of you and the way my nose flares when I genuinely laugh

Fit is the body two ***** and a waist
A pair of lips you can only imagine what they do
Hot is the low cut top exposing my cleavage and my ability to open my legs for you
Fit is a one night stand word or the words of a man in a club hoping that that night you are feeling especially vulnerable and insecure

Beautiful is the text she gets when she lies in bed at 11pm asking if she wants to go on a walk
And although she professes to him excuses when she walks out the door of a lack of make up and three jumpers to keep out the cold and her insecurities encapsulated by her self destructive smile and her hair pushed behind her ear
You lift her face and examine that untouched smile
The rawness of her appearance and the purity of her eyes
That is beautiful
And you call it so

When fit is the way a body looks and how much makeup can look like none
Pretty is the way she smiles when she sees you and the way she feels looked upon.