Trouble, almost brilliantly evocative.
Would broken desire know his laugh
over one thick smoky kiss remembered?


Dawn of a New Life The department store was getting ready to close and Charles was intrigued by the sounds coming from the large tank set up in the corner, it sounded like a buzz saw. He came closer to investigate when suddenly the edge of the saw came from the inside of the tank , someone was breaking out of the tank and into the store ! He started to run just as the explosion took out half of the department, and everyone in it.Dawn of a New Life by ~paisleypower30
The explosion could be heard throughout the store, Merill was shopping in children's buying clothing for her nieces and nephews,. She still held onto the dream that she'd have her own little girl someday. Across the store at that same


Would it? Would it freak you out if said I liked to watch guys kissing?Would it? by ~paisleypower30
Would it freak you out if I said I dreamed of killing your best friend?
Would it freak you out if I said I fantasized you were a woman?
Would it freak you out if I said " I want to give you head" at work?
Would it freak you out if I told you I love you so much I want to kill you?
It would?
Forget I said anything then.
Written August 30th, 2008


The Soul's Electric Pt 1b I have no particular sorrows to drown, nor any particular woes to enlighten upon the bartender, but nor do I have a reason to go home, and so here I am, perhaps feeling a little jaded and dissatisfied with the system I am a part of. A woman slinks to the bar and sits two stools away from me, careful to adhere to the unspoken etiquette of the lonely drinker.The Soul's Electric Pt 1b by ~eddplant
"Thick. No Ice." she orders an atypical pint of heavily fermented barley, the best attempt at reproducing the archaic 'beer'. Despite myself, I am intrigued; this is not the drink of a woman simply passing time. Not being at all gregarious, I sip my drink –thin, iced and with an o


Albatross As a rule,Albatross by ~tommythefly
I don't write poetry.
It tends to
Express too much feeling,
Too much personality,
Too much mood,
Too much of yourself.
It always seems rude,
Almost crude,
To express yourself so freely
In such a short space of time.
Stylised words,
Flowing from syllabic ink,
Undying on the page,
Ever protected by
The collective rectum.
Beauty, the
Best words in
Best order.
But I don't like it.
Instead, I write
What I like to write.
I write
Poems that express nothing,
That have deep meaning,
But no feeling.
Empty and
Deep
At the same time.
A swimming pool
Crawling with air,
And filled with emptiness.
A lung,
Screamin