Everyone has a thirteen year old kid inside, the one with the knife against both throats.

He takes several steps back, the knife cutting the flesh.

He is the one falling for people,

his passion based on countless rumors

blinding out the pure feelings,

as his blood pours down, like a stab in the stomach.

He is the reason for the sudden stop and turn,

as the question why is held, above the banality

and the thoughts lying in the pile of blood,

as the… Continue

What if life is a quick reply to the replay? Something we once had. We wake up to see people complain how long it is. Maybe we just remember something we were told. I want to wake up on the pavement, as the feet walk past, my hair a broken nymph around me, my fingers stitched together. I'd watch a replay of the replay.

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To read my other stories: http://graspthesanity.blogspot.com/

Piled next to the yellow pages of screaming rock stars a girl looked at me in the eye, the covers and layers showing how fragile and determinated she was.

Another glimpse and an overwhelming feeling of desire pounds in the chest as the fancy word in pink covers her back, like a mark of some sin or blessing upon her slim figure.

She closes her eyes. No pages are turned or torn by my teeth or shaking fingers as the light pours out with her shortened locks of darkened hair. It seems no… Continue

Why do we open up to people?

Wondering what shall their thoughts be, as we wonder

Upon sudden sleep

Instead of dreaming of donkeys and Starmen,

And to the same person only with different hair.

The eye tone there, the look, the arrogance,

Everything printed,

The gesture, the plastic roses,

Which he'd see other mates give,

Which I mention to hate,

But as there is no creativity intertwining with the future.

I smile.

And we keep doing it,… Continue