Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
It was a cold, wintry December day.
I was at home,
sitting by the fire.
The fire was hot,
but from where I sat,
it felt like a warm blanket.
Suddenly,
my ******* started to lactate,
uncontrollably.
I did not know what was going on.
I lifted up my soaking wet shirt,
and put my hands over my *******,
in an attempt to stop the lactating,
but it did not work.
And then,
it stopped.
I squeezed my *******,
to see if they would lactate again,
but nothing happened.
I went to bed,
hoping this nightmare would be over in the morning.
But it wasn't.
When I woke up,
I went into the bathroom to perform my daily morning activities,
when I realized something on my chest.
A third ******!
I tried to rip it off,
but I couldn't.
Later that day,
at dinner,
I was eating a juicy, tender steak,
when suddenly,
all three of my ******* began to lactate!
I tried to stop them,
for they were lactating all over my steak.
Then, like before,
it stopped.
This proceeded for many days.
Everyday,
I woke up with another ******,
and everyday around six o'clock,
they would all lactate,
until one day,
the unthinkable happened.
I woke up.
I could not move.
I had no legs.
No arms.
I was a giant ******.
"NO!" I screamed.
Then,
as usual,
I began to lactate,
violently,
and then I exploded.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
 Mar 2014 y i k e s
Jonine Garcia
just like some of you,
I was born insecure.
Born flawed.
Born covered of unaccepted imperfections.
but hey,
there’s a good news
I was born where life is a series of choices
and i’ve given a choice
to love my own skin, my own self.
I have a choice to accept what i am
and be not like someone else.

*- j.a.g
love yourself. :)
 Mar 2014 y i k e s
Krusty Aranda
As the train comes
I feel that I'm being pushed.
 Mar 2014 y i k e s
Mohd Arshad
Piercing my skin
Perching on my lips
Buzzing in my ears
Playing on my cheeks
Mosquitoes sang

"There is no comfort in man's life"
 Mar 2014 y i k e s
Alex Lemieux
Eyes filled with the poetry of a thousand discrete looks
Lips with the softest pink embrace
Teeth whose white glow mirrored my own
Hair whose tumbling strands each revealed a secret beauty
Never seen before and never to be seen again
Only to be succeeded by new consecutive beauties
Changing the beauty of the whole
My feelings are constant yet
Wonderment when I glance
Beatitude when she speaks
 Mar 2014 y i k e s
Jay
I never thought I could fall in love with somebody
the way I have with her.
I thought I knew what love was, but I never really did.
If you would have asked me what I thought love was three months ago, I would have said that it was hurting all the time.
That it was something that you burned up in-
Something that you find in the romance of hazy coffee houses and broken cigarettes.
Something that was unobtainable.
Now, she's made me realize, love is acceptance.
Love is making somebody love who they are.
Love is staying up until 5 o' clock in the morning just to talk.
Love is waiting.
Love is awkward.
Love is worrying about somebody, even when you know they'll be alright.
Love is a shared song that you both can cry to.
Love is a comfortable silence.
Love is wanting to be everything for somebody.
Love is a kiss that can't be felt.
Love is shirts on the floor and butterflies in our stomachs.
Love is her.
I'm still on hiatus, but I thought I should try writing again.
Not, a good time to decide that, because it's still not what it was.
Maybe I'll come back again later.
Next page