The EscapeIn thick layers his breath hit her face. Hot and fast it came. The only thing she could see was a glare in his eye, lancing through the key hole. His hand was still pressing firmly on her lips, signaling for her to be silent.The Escape
They were so close that his nose rubbed over her cheek as he moved his mouth close to her ear. Now the tiny shred of light piercing into their world only illuminated dancing dust.
"If they find us, they will kill us both."
A shiver ran down her spine as his hand embraced hers.
"In a moment I'm going to open the door. I want you to keep hold my hand. Anywhere I go, you f
The PaintingSo the three of them stood, heads tilted to one side, contemplating the painting they saw before them. There they continued to stand as afternoon stretched into evening. Even after the museum staff had advised them that it was closing time. Finally with a disgruntled look on his face the curator, who had established himself as good with patrons, was dragged into the room to rid the place of the men, still mesmerized by the painting they saw on that wall. The curator looked especially nervous as he approached them. After looking in the same direction as the men with a confused look on his face, he urged them, "Sirs, the museum is closed,The Painting
Decent Snippet 1When Ally walked through my bedroom door tonight I had to double take. It was the senior formal, and I have to say, she polishes up alright. I could tell straight away she didn't get the same impression of me. "You have no idea, do you?" "Hey, I'm trying he..." "Well obviously, trying isn't working for you!" She walked over and began adjustments. A tug on my sleeve here and there, straightened my collar, then started doing my tie over. Her little green eyes did that thing were they look to the left then roll up to look at me. That's how I know somethings on her mind. "You excited?" "Not really."Decent Snippet 1
Inside the Contrite SpiritThe drops of blood slowly fell from up above, making silent whispers as they fell to the bare earth below. There they mingled with the dust then slowly soaked into the dry ground.Inside the Contrite Spirit
Silence... not the normal type of silence, a dead silence. It's as though the sound has been sucked out of the air. It's the type of silence when you put your ear up close to sound insulation; so silent it makes you uncomfortable.
Yet the space. There is so much space here. It's as though the empty ground goes on forever in all directions. There is only one focus; a single person kneeling on the ground. A beautiful person, yet so destroyed.
The Green BalloonA woman stands on a grassy hill one bright summer day. Tulips and daisies dot the hillside and a heart shaped patch of clover runs down one side. A large oak tree grows beside where she is standing, it's branches stretching out, preparing to hug whoever might step his way. People surround her, each attending to his and her own activities. A cool breeze tosses the woman's long, dark auburn hair like so much grass. Her brown eyes gaze with wishful intent at the sky. The happy screams of children fall on her deaf ears; her attention is elsewhere.The Green Balloon
A young man walks up to her. His fancy watch sparkles in the sun, making specks of ligh
Not another leaf poemIn Autumn,most people tend to glorify the beauty of the changing leaves. I for one, dislike the trees who change their colors. The sight of those few trees who stay green through FallNot another leaf poem
are the ones that take to my taste, for they are the ones who stay "their true color." Despite the harsh conditions, they stay themselves,
changing for no one and nothing. They are the ones who perservere.
Based on an awkward daydream.I was laying in a bed of grass. My dress was light, white cotton, with some crochet along the hem. My palm swept across the grass, the sensation tickling my fingertips. The sky was green; the grass was blue. The water was devoid of reflection, opaque. Perhaps it had become tired of becoming the face of those gazing into it, and had decided to create its own face, as it respectably should. I did not know where I was, but it did not matter. It never matters, considering I never knew where I stood the majority of the time anyway. There was no day, there was no night; but there was twilight, or, perhaps dawn. Perpetually, it had been pBased on an awkward daydream.
I'm a tad bit manipulative.Every action deliberate,every word precise. Articulating every sound that passes her lips; words formed to entice. Such fools as these are so easily convinced. Oh,how she'd been underestimated! Treaded on,desecrated. An angelic face with a sharp tongue,sharp mind. The combination is lethal, its method refined. Lies tumble out her mouth and slap them in the face. With an air of superiority,she stands with grace. She smiles at their ignorance, their phony individualism. It's funny, yet sad, how they all claim to be so unique, feigning their intellectualism;they're all the sI'm a tad bit manipulative.
What I've been up too...
Content
--
its the smokes and the drinks
and the smiles that they bring
its the pain and the sex
disgused as innocence
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