Discussion Creative Writing Megathread

[ladylazarus4]

Love (a triptych)
i.
You have hungry eyes
And I, like a fat fruit fly,
Am made to be consumed.

A hand fruit in summer, I
Drip drip drip
Sticky drops into the sea
Evaporate the water
Until you find me

And it all comes raining down
Till even Atlas drowns

ii.
Our bodies thrum their hallowed rhythm
like hummingbirds on a summer morning
You drink your fill from my succulent heart
Beak dipped between two ribs
(I, the source. You, the savior)

Or aspen leaves in the mountain at noon
Peel away the bark till I am raw
And sticky with yellow sap
I am the syrupy confection

Or the cicadas in the humid evening
I claw my way of my old shell
You crawl into it, and I into yours
We are at home within each other.
We are each other

iii.
I cannot seem to write about love
Without returning to consumption.
How macabre, this love,
How adolescent
It is tired:
How often has it been written as
Tart pomegranate juice dripping down a chin,
Jewel-toned and lustful?
Or the devotional bite of canines into flesh,
The meat, the sustenance,
The hunger.
Is it love?

 

[lacrimosa]

This wall is so high

It is conquering my faith, I am a distant memory now, a solemn wraith filled with hate and self-doubt

I shout and scream and pound my fists against this fever dream, this fate that was sealed so long ago

I am hollow now, my mouth is dry as I swallow my pride again and again, no friends to comfort me as I lose my innocence

Waging wars against myself that peel back the layers to reveal the horrors locked inside my broken, tell tale heart

I am smart they say, but stuck in this room waiting for the day where doom will knock, the opposite of an expectant mother waiting for its baby to leave the womb and start a new life filled with hope

But there is nothing to help me climb this wall, I have given up and there is no rhyme or reason as death is represented in every season, every note, every word I ever spoke is treason against myself

Where is mercy, where is hope, when will I change and let go of this pain?

I want to erase my name, chase the future and forgive these wrongs

I want to choose the right path, and laugh to show it's alright and let go of these equations and math that doesn't add up

Because it's all confusion and illusions that feed these delusions, but I will wipe this slate clean and leave fate behind and push against the current and forget this pain being all I've learned... because I've seen tragedy, I've faced death and he stated that I'm not ready so I will push against this wall steadily with every breath

So, this is my fight, my war, and I will have to fight what's in store tonight or tomorrow, but I will conquer this sorrow and sing for the love of life

Because that is what is right...

 

[shrobae]

what can i do to curb my writer's block/ brain fog. im really stuck here

 

[Professor K]

here's a short poem I wrote in high school as I felt lonely around other kids

HALLWAY NO.1
Faces stuck to the phone
Disconnected in the hallways
Chewing gum and blasting deaf tone
Stimulated in all ways

So that they never feel alone

Together with no gateways.

 

[Paranorm2]

what can i do to curb my writer's block/ brain fog. im really stuck here

I'd suggest just writing the first things you think of without judgement, no matter how random or silly, no holding back. Keep at it for a couple minutes and something good will eventually pour out. That's what works for me :)

 

[killorbekilled]

I published two web novels but haven't updated in 2 months. I hate how I wrote it. one had 4 chapters and the other has the prologue

 

[nux_walpurgis]

A poem I wrote for the boy I love, but I haven't told him.
(in the end it contains a reference from a book series we read and only he can understand (and whoever else has read the series ig))

A Dream

In my dream there was a woman
Wrapped around your arm
Her hair was the colour of barley
She shone like the sun
Your smile at her pressed my ribs,
Like the cold muzzle of a gun

Her eyes like a summer sky
Her voice a nightingale's envy
I though my vengeance was nigh
But my mind was a tangled frenzy

And I knew I was not fearless
This was not but the heart's behest
That would drift like a feather
By the winds of regret

I just stared at you drowning
On the seas of her gaze
Thorns in my side crowning
Setting my spirit ablaze

Across her oceans you sailed
And as I torched from inside
I wished you a watery grave
But this is your fairytale my darling
One where the villains inevitably quail

You were her saviour, her hero, her knight
And she, a princess, a swan from a tale
I stared at the sun, blinding the green in eyes
I wished to burst into flames
Your nights would be haunted by my cries
Till you both went insane

But I am no goddess, no fae, no nymph
There would be no escape, no easy relief
There would be no vengeance, nor haunting or cries
Only my heart would remain, trying to shield itself from this bise

And as she drunk from your lips
The wine of her Holy Grail
My world bedimmed by an eclipse
I howled a guttural wail
I saw myself then
I was trivial and plain
And I felt like Faile, against Belerain

 

[Average Enthusiast]

This is a short story I wrote a couple of months ago, is really nothing more than a passionate project. It's not perfect, and it was my first time writing in the first person so it's a bit rocky at times but other than that, i hope whoever's reading enjoys

Eyes of tragedy


"Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."


I look out of the window, seeing seagulls flying through the misty sky. There was no rain, but it wouldn't be long before the clouds would wash the land once again. Even though I hadn't been there for the past 10 years, the feel of the harbour was still prevalent. Its ability to attract people was something that I've never felt anywhere else. I have been living in Swansea for a while now, and my life was starting to return to normal, but something was calling out to me. Something I had run away from. Something I had feared. I had lived in Serpenford for most of my life. I used to love it here. The main street, the Quay, everything here felt like home. However, something drove me away from this place, and now something has pulled me back. I had to find out why.


The ship had docked, and I gathered my things and got ready to disembark the vessel. I didn't bring much, just my phone and a note I was intending to leave behind, addressed to my family. I didn't plan on staying here for long. My bus wasn't going to arrive till 08:30, so I grabbed a cup of coffee and waited in the 1 terminal. People were walking through the halls, but eventually I was alone. Even the employees were nowhere to be seen. The faint buzzing of the lights filled the otherwise quiet and desolate terminal. Despite no one else being here, I felt a strange presence. Like, something was watching me. I looked around, but, still, the place was empty. I noticed my breathing; it was frantic, and despite it not being cold, I could see my own breath. The buzz from the lights grew louder, and the presence of those eyes staring at me grew stronger. I heard a voice; it wasn't human and held no emotion, and yet every word it uttered sent a chill down my spine. "You think it's your fault." Memories rushed in, so much that it felt like my brain was going to explode. I sprinted out, trying to escape. After what felt like hours, I managed to get out, and the voices, the memories, disappeared. "Sir, you left this inside." I turned around and saw a man holding my cup of coffee. I thanked him, and as he walked back inside, I saw the terminal again. There were people; the place was busy. Were they always there? What's... what's happening to me? I turned around again to see my bus driving into the lot.


I was getting the bus from the harbour to Serpenford town. I had booked a room in a hotel since I knew no one I used to know would take me in. When I was younger, me and my brother stayed there for a night during a bank holiday weekend. While our parents were at the bar celebrating a family friend's wedding, we would run through the halls upstairs, ding dong ditching random 2 rooms. We were so afraid that we'd get caught, but the rush, man, it was so good. I miss him. I was so caught up in my memories that I must've fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, the bus had stopped by the town square. I made sure I had my stuff, thanked the driver, and got off. As soon as I planted my feet on solid ground, a sense of dread hit me like a train. Serpenford was a town where everyone knew everyone, in one way or another. I just hoped that I wouldn't be recognised, especially by my family.


I began walking towards the hotel and found myself on the Quay. It was…peaceful. Calm. However, I noticed something. No one was here. Just me. I looked off towards the water and saw mist coming in. Within a second, I could only see 5 meters ahead. It was as if I was completely isolated from the world. The water became more violent, thrashing against the walls of the Quay. That exact same feeling that I got in the terminal returned—the frantic breathing, coldness of the air, and those... eyes watching me. "You couldn't do anything, and yet, everyone blamed you... including yourself." That voice, that exact same voice. A scream came from the water. I ran towards it, and as I peeked over the edge, I saw... Floating in the water. Lifeless. I fell back, desperately trying to escape as I crawled away. "You know what you must do; do not succumb to your pain once more." I begged and pleaded with the voice, but it fell on deaf ears. The water started to rise, and it crept towards me like a snake to its prey. I closed my eyes, trying to convince myself that what was happening wasn't real. It couldn't be real. I opened my eyes once again. There was no water on the Quay, no mist engulfing me, no eyes watching me, except for the random people walking by. I didn't care what people thought, as I was just happy it was over. At that moment, I knew what had to be done.


I got a taxi from the town to Seapoint. It had started raining, and the closer I got to the lighthouse, the harder the heavens rained down upon me. The price for this trip was pretty hefty, although I knew that since the journey was nearly 50 km. That didn't bother me; I was too caught up in the sense of dread that was slowly returning. I had not been there in a very long time, not since that moment. The thing that haunted me for years, the thing that ruined my life, took me away from my family. It was born there, and I never gained the courage to face it. Something was calling out to me, making me do this. Why? I eventually got there, and the storm that had been brewing that day had finally been unleashed. I paid the taxi, and as the car left, I realised I was alone one more, alone with those "eyes" watching me. My brother and I loved it here. The lighthouse that towered over us, the sea breeze, the peacefulness. We'd only realise when we were teens how important that last part was. Being away from home, school, family, friends, and responsibilities. Just us. The last time we were here, I was 17 and he was 15. I had recently gotten my first car. The first thing I did was drive to Seapoint with him. It was so windy up there, and no one else was around. We sat in our usual spot, right beside the cliff edge. We had the usual conversations about sports, movies, and music. That day, I had never seen him that happy before. Those few minutes were the best minutes of my life. But something tragic happened. Those memories were constantly running through my head. But they only brought pain, sadness, and guilt.


I slowly approached the cliff's edge, right where we used to sit, where I lost my brother. I looked to the violent sea as its waves crashed into the rocks. I looked up to see a light shining through the dark, cloudy sky. That was when I heard it's voice once again. "You relived this moment over and over. You blame yourself for it, and so does everyone around you. You were pushed away, and you have put yourself in constant pain since. You've tried to convince yourself that life is getting better, and yet you still do not sleep properly at night. You wonder what you could have done. The reality is, you could not have done anything. It was cruel fate, and you need to accept it. You need to face it and overcome it. I have been guiding you, making you confront it." It's voice was now comforting. I fell to my knees, and as I stared towards the source of the voice, my eyes began to water. The light spoke again. "I will guide you to a better place. I will help you end all your pain." The light came towards me, and I could properly see the entity that stalked me. It was something that I never saw before; its beauty put me in a trance. Gold bars were covered in its eyes, constantly moving as they were carried by wings. Those eyes no longer frightened me. They gave me comfort. Just me, and it. It gave me the feeling that I could fly. I accepted it now. As my pain disappeared, as my worries faded, as my soul was set free, I finally understood. All this time, I thought something evil had been looking over me. But I was wrong, for there was no demon in that sky.


It was an angel.

 

[pyx]

I published two web novels but haven't updated in 2 months. I hate how I wrote it. one had 4 chapters and the other has the prologue

that's so cool! post it :D

prose excerpt from something i wrote the other night:

"The sounding off of drunken cormogenies all thumping bottles of Tonk, singing Gaulish songs about battered Imperialists and their putschist brethren, all while the stench and sopor of night crept into their hearts and minds and slowly, assuredly, they would be careening private lies to children on chalk-covered driveways and under moth-eaten lamps, or returning to childhood corridors, running in view of doting mothers sick to the endless clambering of athletic feet up the stairs, to the aging camphor of occupants back from days out on the bridge, spitting at dinghies, snapping furtive passersby through bleeding gums."

 

[killorbekilled]

Here's the prologue of mine:

"Are you sure?"

Mikage looked around the grey-dusted walls of his room. Scorch marks and tallies ran across the surface, a reminder of who he truly was. He couldn't stay here.

"I'm ready."

It nodded it's head, before opening a door to true void.

Was this really the right choice? Running away? All that was left here was pain. It was too much. This wasn't the right choice, it was the only choice. His last resort. Things would be better now. Rui had proved that Mikage didn't belong here.

It was exhausting, trying to fit in. And what were the results? Betrayal. Disgust. Contempt. Even worse than before.

He needed to leave. His sanity depended on it. As did the sanity of others.

Mikage walked through the void to the other side, and didn't look back.

 

[Lish]

I love that there's a thread for writers. Can't believe I didn't find this sooner. I'm usually critical about my abnormally long prose, so I may keep those at bay.

Poetry, however, should be succinct enough. I look forward to reading everyone's prose here:

[P I N K]

I see her
Every night, I witness
Passion hidden beneath apathy
A face that could
Kill
Only me

But only I see her and she knows
I hope she knows
I've hoped she knows
Mixed porcelain, Amber glare
Always bathing in the streetlights
Window seat
That tint of blue
A lovely shade of sick

Dreams lead me away
Friends kick me out
Reality pulls me aside to
Talk
But I find my way back

I know, she exists
And she stays alive
Meandering
She hates we
But loves
Me
I think I'll say hello today

what can i do to curb my writer's block/ brain fog. im really stuck here

I find any physical activity usually helps but, more importantly, a new environment.

This can be a ten minute walk around the block or setting a different mood in your room with some music and candles. Whenever there's a traffic jam in your mind, take a detour. It might be the best way forward.

I hope this helps.

 

[D'Amboise]

And you wonder why you have never felt anything in your life

You want what others feel

And you wonder what is missing

So you search for anything at all

And a fool searches for rain in the desert

 

[Anotherlastchance2]

Step dad

Demons cry angels fall

Today is the end of all

Tripping down when i run down the hall

Clenching myself to a crumbling wall

Getting buried in a pile of rubble 6ft tall

your skin is yellow pale and your pupils are small

And i know your scared but you have to remain calm

Ill keep you close so i will keep you warm

I will keep you safe durning the storm

I will protect you are my firstborn

Just like I promised just like i sworn

A child in need is not something i can ignore

Just remember how good we had it before

But those good times are no more… now

The devil sits on his throne and wears his crown

And all the angels fall down

And all the demons burn down the town

And all of this will be gone at dawn
Toxic love



Welcome on my ship its gonna sink soon

Im dealing with a post traumatic honey moon

And no matter the weather we're gonna go down together

This relationship is based on lunacy it wont get any better

You got me mad crazy and upset so i wrote you this angry love letter

Remember the time you tried to kill me

But thats okay i forgive you

I tried to kill myself too

Roses are red and violets are blue

you gave me the flu

I hate you

but i love you too

But forget me

There is no more we

Cant you see our love was a fantasy

Yeah You sucked all of my energy

My desperate escape from you was my destiny

You wont get the best of me

Its over cant you just see…. That

That its over

You used to be my lover my four leaf clover but you wilted

Our love was twisted
Medicine

My medicine you help me concentrate and compensate the pain

It courses through my vein to my brain

Yeah you are the only thing that keeps me sane

Im getting overwhelmed with this artificial feeling

It gets me so high i can touch the freakin ceiling

Im a slave and a sad excuse for a human being

Im bleeding from the inside out

Dad dont look you wont be proud

But my happiness i found

Its cheap and turns noise into sound

And sound into music

this feeling is fantastic

Until the cat is out of the basket

And it turns into a habit

Welcome in the hole of the rabbit

Everything you feel here is magic

But the reality is tragic

A classic…..

dopefiend junkie

Thats Me

 

[needthebus]

i am writing a book that's fiction, i'm probably 20 chapters in.

it's 2/3rds done

it's probably bad

it's about a beautiful woman who slowly goes mad and it's a horror book

i'm not sure what to do with it, i'm sort of writing it compulsively, when i can't prevent myself from it

i'm afraid to show it to anyone because it's so scary and violent and gory and explicit in terms of both sex and violence that I think it could be used to try to justify locking me in a psych ward, and i wouldn't want to show it to anyone from here because it could be too triggering. i also have no idea if it's readable or flows well or is entertaining or if it's just completely inane. I feel like I am building a winchester mystery house of a novel. there are so many books out there, though, and many of them are never read and even the ones that are rarely are commercially successful.

I've been having some fun writing however, which I didn't realize I could do. im also sort of fearful to show it to anyone because i think they say "oh it's nice" when it's supposed to be really good. i don't really want to write anything if other people wouldn't like it.

 

[supergold#2]

here's a couple dumb songs i wrote
first (earl grey) is about/to an ex (who had been on here, too), after they successfully ctb,
second (one for the roses) is about a recent (probably) ex-best-friend

earl grey
wrap me like a ring around your finger
in bergamot and lavender spinning over all those factory lit nights
press against my shoulder as the older specters of a cigarette
still haunts the room like dirty dishes from the kitchen

and out to that same rooftop brick wall
catching the moonlight over our dangling feet
in a sonnet's breadth between tenement and concrete
i remember you asking me "what makes you so afraid to fall asleep?"

so even if i'd been counting cards
despite a title fight spent splitting fences
surely this 5 of cups has filled enough
to prove that the house always wins?
but i'll keep lighting candles
in contrition of a sinking heart of lead
burning torn-out notebook pages
pulling meaning from this stacked deck again

but the winter of my discontent still taste like blueberry wine
and our bodies intertwined like mangroves from these rib bones
before that home away from crushing waves was lost inside a hurricane
and the glorious summer sun became my grief

so linger with me here a while longer
like in some softer shape of gossamer draped silhouettes
come haunt these hollow hallways and the bed we used to lay in
because i've only felt this empty since you left


one for the roses

so go on ahead, yeah just go, i won't try to argue
isn't it this part where you're supposed to leave?
it's like we've been driving down the highway in this car for days
like a war of attrition from the trenches between seats

it's you vs. me, circling the ring, polyvinyl and concrete
a communion in pink noise pinned in open air
cliché waxing poetic, in lunar bodies and vacant rooms
in the limelight of a limerance between my neck and ears

but in the taillight's glow it's only irony, 30 miles back
a fading billboard reads "silence is golden" with a dogtoothed grin
like history reframed by missed connections and overdue payments
now with interest compounded what is it that keeps you from cashing in?

it's selfish of me to so relentlessly chase this closure
and if i can't digest what i've read i can't turn the page
from this book of kells spiralling, braided, bound in my gut,
in knotted old heartwood, where you remain my favorite patron saint

so tell me, has the saccharine begun to leave you feeling sick?
and when it's chased with this acrid hate does it still feel worth it?
split me down the center log division lines between caustic and cloy
but show me where the pattern ends and let's start over again

if it's the same after all these prayers wishing that you'd stay
id rather burn bright, run dry, keep the pressings of flowery memory
because when chasing absurdity outside of the bleak nihilist fanfictions,
the most deafening sound on both sides would be still, too dangerous to dream

(this next section is supposed to be elegiac couplets, and yes, i know how horribly cheesy/pretentious that is lol):​

so i wish you'd stay, wish it wasn't so selfish of me to say
i wanna be more than metaphor on your dashboard display
i'll give you space if but to compose earth and sky into rain
like rivulet choir's washed in the rearview crying out in refrain
like rhapsody from fugue, elegiac poems, and desperate vespers
a psalm for a burning wood rose in unsteady prose

 

[Broken247]

Schrodingers Cat
In a gas chamber
I'm dead and alive,
More dead than alive
I need a tight seal
To capture my breath
I put myself in here
To take a break
Deadly time capsule
I am the red pill
I am also the blue pill
I take them both
Take the whole bottle
I take enough to end my life
If only for my life
I bend my knees
Pray unceasingly
It doesn't help
They put dogs down
Why do they get it easy
They're just animals
I'm built up like a balloon
Free, but you
Speak to me of freedom
I'll take a gun
It's my right
To die
Why tease it out
Hopeless
Don't pity me
Laugh if you think it helps
Me to get off the track
Any reinforcement is welcome
Put me in a grave,
Where I belong
You know
I don't really care because
I'm on the edge and
A little breeze will send me over
I want to say goodbye so I say
Goodbye.....
Goodbye

 

[Broken247]

Life is a death sentence
We're all somewhere on the map
Not everyone is E.E. Cummings
Imitating art
Truth is paint
My truth is brown

Everyone is in a vacuum
The soul vacuum of space
Breathing

Eagerness growing from the
Deaths of others
I'm not sure I'm that brave
My heart is not that big

Mushrooms
Under a cold moon
Like my brain
Stick out of a tomb
A wombs death

Maggots in my eyes
A heretic in my spine
Death is a forager
Gone a long way
To get a short distance
Understand

I died long ago
My eyes vision dimmed
Now I am sick of everything
Like a punch in the head

Sick as an automobile
Uselessly staying out
With no miles or gas
My eyes are opened.... to
laughs, so pass or
Come inside

Til the end
Of time
The end of earth
Between you and I
Winter
Dead man counting backwards to 10
I've finished the race
Again and again
This time, I did it
The way I wanted to do
Same as the last time
Always running from you
In this pathetic world of death
I now will give up trying
Just like me to hold my breath
While everyone is busy living
I am so very busy dying

 

[graveface]

I will use you

I will let you use me

but I can't take any more

of your

screaming angels

 

[J&L383]

I was looking through my notes for some of my bad poetry, but found this this fable I wrote last year.

The Fox and the Dove

There was once a dove who flew at night. She loved the night because it was quiet and peaceful, but she never felt alone. So long the as her friend, the moon, was in the sky. One day however, the moon began to float away. The dove became confused, "Why, dear Luna, do you leave me?"

Eventually, her friend was gone. This night in particular was the most terrible of all. When she flew that night, she could not see well, she didn't know where she was going.

A rumbling inside her started to grow. The dove began to furiously fly. No control. No thought. Only empty air and a deafening darkness. She became lost, and it dawned on her that she did know her way home.

Defeated, she perched on a nearby tree. She pondered these feelings of loneliness and abandonment, and as they washed over her, she reached her beak into her wings and tore away. The pain sent her tumbling off the branch onto the leave strewn ground below, and she fell unconscious.

The next morning she awoke, to her surprise as well as terror, to a fox sniffing her. The young fox was small and feeble, likely lost from its pack, she thought, and awfully interested in the injured dove.

"Don't hurt me!" the dove exclaimed.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Can you find my family for me?"

Feeling some sympathy in the moment, and seeing this as an opportunity to escape, she tried to fly, but a sharp pain in her wing prevented her from lifting.

"I… I can't fly."

"But you're a dove, that's what you do." The fox replied, confused.

"I can't, I'm sorry. My wings are clipped."

"Who would do that to you?! A beautiful dove is meant to fly."

"I… I did it to myself." The dove sank to the ground. "My only friend left me. She was always there for me, bringing light to my darkness, and she left. What is the point of flying alone in the dark?"

"I'll be your friend, I'm lost too." the fox picked up the bird and placed her on his back.

"Thank you…" the dove said hesitantly, knowing this fox could swallow her in an instant.

The fox then began to run and the dove became even more scared. "He must be taking me to his family… oh no! I must be dinner" she thought to herself as she began to panic. All the memories of the night earlier rushed back. "I did this to myself. This is all my fault. I deserve this."

"Hey dove!" The fox called to her "Spread your wings!"

"Why? So it's easier for you to eat me?!"

"No silly! It will be fun. Just trust me."

The dove knew this sly fox was up to something. Just playing with his food, fit for a child. But out of solutions, she spread her wings.

"Now close your eyes"

Immediately after closing her eyes, the dove could feel the winds rushing through her feathers. She imagined the night sky with the trees below. As she drifted through the air, she saw her skyward friend again - but as quickly as the memories appeared, they again became dark, as even the moon in her mind began to disappear.

"NO! NOT AGAIN!" She cried, and threw herself off the foxes back.

As she tumbled to the ground, the fox stopped and turned around and said "You have to stop hurting yourself. You'll never be able to fly if you keep this up."

"Well, I'll never be able to fly again anyway. What's the point? I clipped my wings. I did this to myself."

"You're and awfully stubborn little bird aren't you? Look, I stepped on a sharp rock last week. I couldn't even walk the next day, but today, I helped you fly. It was hard and hurt to even try for awhile, but look at me now! We're not so different. Just try."

The Dove sighed at his juvenile attempt. "But I am no fox. I can't just walk it off. There is no point, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop patronizing me."

The foxes eyes grew sad. "I suppose I can't help you then." He said as he turned around and trotted away.

The dove watched as the fox disappeared, just like the moon did. "Everyone leaves. This is really what I deserve." She thought to herself as she drifted back to sleep.

Some hours later the dove woke again to the fox, carrying a twig with berries. "I thought you might be hungry" he said, dropping them next to her.

"It's almost night, want to try to fly again?"

"Why are you still helping me?"

"I don't know, I like you."

"You really don't want to eat me?"

"Of course not. You are too beautiful, and probably taste bad anyway." The fox let out an obnoxious cackle.

"I… I guess we can try again."

As the dove ate some berries, she felt her energy start to return, and the fox once again placed her on his back. The dove closed her eyes and spread her wings.

She felt the wind pass between her feathers again, the pain in her wing was still there but was now less noticeable. She began to feel at peace.

They did this over the next few days. Soon, the dove was able to gain some lift and gracefully glide down onto the foxes back. The dove felt free again. She remembered how blissful the night sky was, she remembered the cool air and the gentle light from the moon, without the pain of her absence.

The two broke out of the dense forest and into a meadow. "Look! Open your eyes!" The fox yelled out.

The dove saw in the sky the moon, shining bright and lighting everything around in a dim yet brilliant display amongst the wildflowers.

"Go! Fly!" the fox encouraged.

As the dove rose into the air she flapped her wings, the pain still present but the sight of her dear Luna gave her the strength to push through. Soon, the pain was gone and tears of joy and love and bliss washed over her.

"She never left you, dear dove!" The fox barked from below. "Fly like you were meant to!"

The dove, filled with excitement, danced in the sky, twirling through the drafts in a complex pirouette with the winds.

Distracted with her dance, she suddenly remembered about the fox. "Where are you my friend!? Thank you for this gift, this second chance!"

But there was only silence. The fox had disappeared back into the forest.

The dove flew all night with the moon. Her wings as strong as ever, she made her way back home. She rested for a few days, spent time with her flock and assured them that she was safe, but dared not speak of the fox.

Some days later, she flew back to the forest looking desperately for her new friend. And alas, she saw a family of foxes playing in the same adjacent meadow. She recognized her friend, and as he fell over playing with his pack, he saw her and paused, letting out a sly cackle and a smile, as if waving to her.

There was once a dove who flew at night, and she never felt alone.

Awesome. I laughed and I got chills.

 

[pilotviolin]

leaf    leaf    leaf senseless rootless
grief always   wins                                             leaf          name        leaf leleafaf leafwn ujm e
you should   know this by now                                 leaf    noun           leaf leafleafleaf leaf senseless
the shadows come           closer,              leaf                  narnia         leafleafleaf  leafleaf leafleaf
people leave when you need them                              nether            leafleleafaf leafleafleafleafleaf
and smother when you want out                     leaf          narrow             leaf leafleaf leaf  hH
no beat can   save  you  now                               leaf       nautical l l l 1   leaf leaf leafleaf eb
its the silence and  your             word                      leaf      necrosisleafleafleafleaf         dll
when   water                  smashes the rock                 leaf    nebula  leafleafleafleafa   a e a
and     rivers                   create scars                    leaf                nemoleafleafleafen           j
patter                                      8                                   nleafemesisleafleaf leaf  a   a  a e      a
n                                                                             rr     r  r      r    r     r  ee
recog                                 8                                         e eh h h h h    hha  e  e
nition                                                                            b,,b b,  ,bb,
       gills its sword    8                                              u u u uleafu  u u
libert                                                                             dd d ddd d
infor                                                                                  ns i i ii  i
matio                                                                               e ee eiiiiiiiem
n dec                                                                        e   3  33 3leaf  5 d   w
ay on                                                                                v v vv v  v
de ec                                                                           e e  e   ee  e  e
ay                                                                                    isle isle isleleaf
leafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafleafle

---

im waiting for a breath of wind to take me away...
waning moon, make the miasma pass

im wishing for a light to shine its merciful sword...
make it sweep the world into place

---

these nights are too hard when the streets read empty, and the fan disturbs peace. when your heart is so barren and hollow -- the dark swells up in the edges of your vision to haunt you tomorrow.

there's too much dissociation for comfort, yet not nearly ever enough to take a break from the hurt. you mourn the past, and fear the future, with a duvet covered presence.

it chokes you subtly, plus it follows your gut; when times are right it'll scratch your skull tight. emergency, emergency, the clock strikes to fifteen past seen, these mornings are too hard when the light that seeps in turns more gray than green.

---

neurotic typing
erratic writing
a slave to the pen and key
grey matter colonises canvas

 

[Broken247]

I will die in the salty depths
that bong created,
afraid the
floaters in my eyelids will slump,
those shoulder slouching eyes, my
spirit rides on,
lives on gummied turds,
dragged around, mothered
Into the night
closeted pains,
a billion membranes sheathing....
no one cares!
some medical phenomena,
no one understands....
Is birth
you'll have to pry me away from here,
a soul, not one with everything,
grissled and appalling,
abnormally separate
breath connections severed
all of our hearts.....
chained monkies
I make ammends
the truth behind what we see is
like layers of an onion,
children being free,
beneath piles of autumn
smiling and...
dreaming with
their eyes of separation
pinpointed beams of light hit
retina filters,
the caramel lens......
have I taken a piece of the earth.
again!?!?
the Earth is:
undiscovered territory like
layers of atmosphere;
more is known of
the incredibly small
things found here
perfect in probability,
more than
this piece of light...
dreidles spinning
out of sight,
a swan lost in a
medieval rubbing,
goose neck kettles and
stems of
figs
nubbing...
flowers browning and adolescents
clowning.......
stirring silt
the red tongue of
some speckled plant
with gilt;
seeing myself....seeing myself.
seeing myself....
poetic ......some
trophy, some esthetic
the
troubled winds of
tomorrow are only just
a stunted day away
making love
and in the tar and in the
feathers sow peace....
staking the hearts breath
so it may grow
in safe keeping......
and always feed the clowns

 

[witchcraft]

I have spiraled into a deep pit of depression, triggered but not solely caused by something that happened yesterday, a bit of bad news.

Anyway, it seems to be making finishing Nanowrimo very difficult. I'm at 33k words, and need to hit 50k by the end of the month.

I've been rotting in bed since waking at 11:00 AM, but perhaps I can muster the strength to get my laptop+charger and bring it back to bed with me.

 

[LossOfPlan]

I looked through my old poetry, and it truly talks a lot about suicide and dying in general. So I thought of posting one poem on here as a welcome back to the forum.

I died

I died in the afternoon sun.
No one stood above or below my grave.
I died after my morning run
Or was that yesterday?

I died because it's written in the stars.
I died due to the card I pulled.
I died not knowing how to laugh
I died due to the jealousy that would ensue.

I died of burning, burning passion.
So that I can see red.
My jealousy was so simple yet high.
That you could've died instead.

I wanted to be famous, like a dream that comes true.
I wanted to sell my body and soul
Just to be like you.

No matter if I get lost in return.
No matter if my fame never reaches Saturn.
No matter the "Scream" or "The Milky Way"
No matter the fuck you've given to my dismay.

Just to be like you.
A tiny piece of cake that I would chew.
Surely you wouldn't care, since I'm a number.
A gun, knife or rope since I'm not sober.

 

[viljalauss]

found this one from apr 2022(if not then 2023).. i really need to get back into writing freeform poetry god bless

Spoiler: poem

to the elements it came from
everything will return.
our bodies to earth,
our blood to water,
heat to fire,
breath to air. (- empedocles on etna)

all was, and all that was will be again, and all that will be once was.
all was once rooted, and all will reroot.
these bones you roam were said to be lost,
lost to heaven's heat, a body gone for good.
a fire burns beneath, suffused with the smell of earth. it steals up the sides and the core of you, crowns you pure, the wounds of your bones, of your aching blood and limbs, cauterised.
lean into the fire, let it separate you, make countless vengeful spears of your skin and flesh,
roaming across the cells you carry and those that once were.
shield yourself now, you can survive this strife. shield yourself with the threat of war, war with the emergent urge to self-preserve, the instinct to survival. let yourself bristle with the anticipation. are you signalling or shaking?
lean into the fire, let it bring you back together. the heat that jostles your blood forward, the heart that takes the heat and harbours it, lets it sink, rises cold far above what your eyes can follow.
the earth will take you, or the ether. (<- 23/4)

 

[Wezzy777]

There's so many different forums on here it's kinda silly, I like this place
Anyways, a short story I made a few months after being sexually assaulted, Creative outlets is how I copeeeee
The story is inspired by the manga "Fire punch" and basically humanity almost ends because a freeze covers the earth and everything is a snowy wasteland, tere's a heavy dystopian military and their very corrupt. This story is supposed to be a diary entry of one of the soilders in the military.

---

12/30/22XX


I was never one for the cold.
Though, that could be said for most of the soldiers out here. It just so happened that there were a few soldiers who were more used to the cold than others.

In the beginning, When I first arrived in Behemdorg with my brother, Bahlo had given me an extra coat because my anxieties were causing me to lose weight—in other words, I got colder—quicker. At first, I didn't want to attribute that small kindness to my survival in those times, Though as the kindness persisted, it soothed me into believing it wasn't a bad thing. Even though Bahlo had mannerisms that unsettled me, or how I never liked the way he looked at me, I simply thought back to how Others were not so lucky to have a friend like him and while not every man died from the freezing weather, the number was a rather big one.

This unfortunate climate was followed by many deaths, which were followed by many more separations. There were a little over twenty soldiers at the beginning, we were in charge of guarding the perimeters of the wall to the infamous settlement. They were good company for a bit, but after a raid gone wrong, ( A encounter with an all too powerful blessed) the number shot down to a measly three men: Armaros, Bahlo, and Cozbin. Three men, alone, remained. Higher ranks thought it was funny how the beginning letter of our last names were the first three letters of the alphabet—ABC. Sometimes, I wondered how different the three of us would be if they knew I was a blessed too.

When the storm had cleared, we were left with an almost unnatural-looking clear sky. All of us were able to take our first real break in weeks. We survived. That's good. At least, that was what I felt then. Bahlo wasn't talking, and while Cozbin was, it wasn't at all the words of a relieved man.


"You know they had letters from my wife," Cozbin said out of the blue. He was trying to light a cigarette, but his lighter seemed to dislike him.


"Letters?" I responded in an attempt to fill the silence. I disliked the quiet. Hated it.

"Letters! But they wouldn't give them to me," Cozbin grumbled, "I hadn't done a GOOD deed yet. They said I had to do a good deed first. Had to deserve it."


I couldn't find any way to reply other than an emphatic "Ah." It was easier to act like Cozbin was joking, lying, or just speaking nonsense than acknowledging that I understood that this good deed business was the whole reason Cozbin was here.


I looked around, bothered by the quiet once again. I remember giving the trees some of my attention. They were nearly all white with snow packed into their bumpy bark. My pants looked similar with the way the high snow gathered and clung to the fabric. I then looked over to Bahlo, who had snow tangled up in his hair, curlier than both of us, Cozbin, too, had snow which made its home on the person. To think they shared this with the trees— in a boyish way— I felt a little happy at that moment.


Cozbin started again, "Say, Bahlo, how old's your son now?"

The target of his question did not respond, so he tried again.

"He must be at least ten now."


"You have a son?" I asked, turning to Bahlo.

"He's a good, cute boy," Cozbin added, eyeing Bahlo.

"Let's stop talking now," Bahlo finally spoke up.


When Bahlo told us to do something we always did it. He wasn't the true leader of the party, but he had quickly become something like it, especially when it was only us three. It was with these men that I had the strongest bond with. Among the others, I had become a bit of a target because of my weak stature. These two were...lovely people.

I let out a grand sigh and placed my back on one of the white-covered trees. Looking up through the branches above I saw the sky. It was blue. My chest felt full of water when I saw that color. Something about it—the hue, the fact that it was somehow cloudless—made me want to cry.

I blinked and looked back down to the earth. Around me, Cozbin had given up trying to get a cough out of his lighter and instead held the unlit cigarette in his mouth. Bahlo looked off into space, clearly not here nor there, his mind elsewhere.


"Hey, Akoji! Feeling like it'd be fine to kick the bucket right now?" Cozbin asked, eyes returning to look at me. I smiled back at him and nodded.

What I really wanted was to run around and throw snowballs and make snow angels, I wanted to swing from branches and shout as loud as he could. I wanted to be a little boy again, just for a moment, and I would've done it, too, if Bahlo hadn't awoken from his daydreaming. He called for the two of us to get moving. So we did.


The path he led us on didn't look much different than the other paths we've taken before the storm, nor the paths before that. The trees, the snow, the sky—there was no difference. Or perhaps there was, but only for Bahlo, who seemed to know exactly where he was going.

Cozbin struck up a conversation with me. This was usual. We didn't have much in common, but when I spoke, he listened to me as if I was the only person in the world that had something to say. As was common for all, he looked rough. He was due for a new shave and a new haircut—and perhaps a checkup for a nasty cough he had recently acquired.


Bahlo was also rough, but in a way, I could only imagine a father would be. Of the three of men, his figure was the broadest, even after all lost weight from a period when we had far less food than normal.


We walked for a long time. Or perhaps...we didn't? I couldn't tell, distracted from the snow. Though, I imagined we'd gotten far. Adrenaline from before left me, my heels ached. I had a stitch on my side. The snow on my pants melted and soaked through. My breathing was ragged, my nose ran, and the chill made my eyes water. However, Cozbin and Bahlo were far ahead of me, and still appeared strong. I admired that.

Bahlo and Cozbin's heads were close together. They were whispering. Cozbin kept glancing back at me, though he didn't seem to realize that I noticed this until a few minutes passed.


"We're just discussing how we're going to cook you up and eat you!" Cozbin shouted, turning back.

"W-With your lighter?" I mumbled, "good…luck with that."


Cozbin dryly laughed in response and the back-and-forth stopped there, much to my dismay. Maybe on a normal day, one would be able to hear the sounds of wildlife, even in this season. There'd be wind blowing, trees shaking, squirrels chattering. But this wasn't a normal day, no sounds aside from the sounds of our boots crunching—silence.

After a bit more walking, we came upon a clearing by the edge of some dip in the land. My companions stopped by the trees, and I went ahead of them to go look over the edge. The decline wasn't too great, and it seemed as if one could easily slide down it on their back and be fine. While looking down, I heard whispers and the crunching of footsteps behind me. I paid them no mind until I felt my rucksack being lifted off my shoulders.

I turned around, about to speak, before feeling something crash into my face, a weight so heavy I nearly spilled off of the edge of the dip. My body was swung around and thrown onto the ground. Bahlo stood over me. Before I could do anything Bahlo brought his fist down onto my face once again.

Standing only a few paces away, Cozbin watched—while holding my rucksack, no less—as Bahlo pulled at my coat and his own trousers, all while keeping me pinned to the ground. I struggled, squirmed, and screamed for him to stop. Bahlo began to take fistfuls of snow and shoved them into my mouth. When the melted snow and the blood dripping into my throat began to choke me, he would let me turn over to cough it out, then—like a flash—push me back to my original position and do it again. Bahlo kept pulling at my clothes and stuffing my face full of bloody slush.


I wanted to reach out, to push Bahlo off, but my body was much weaker than his. It always was. What was there to do? It felt like it'd go on forever, as if I were a wounded bird being played with by a bored cat. Through the haze of My fading consciousness and the bubbling tears in my eyes, I could still see that there was a grin on Bahlo's face. One I knew very well.


Finally, when I thought it would never stop, Cozbin stepped in. He said something. I couldn't hear it well, but it was enough to get Bahlo to stop stuffing me full of snow. I coughed viciously as I emptied the last bit of bloody water from my body. It was enough to make me vomit, which I did while Bahlo stood up and began to fix his clothing.

"You're lucky!" Bahlo shouted down at me as he went to Cozbin's side, "You're so damn lucky today!"


Then they walked away. Just like nothing. Hearing the men's footsteps fade, I could tell they were leaving me behind.
Either that, or they didn't care if I caught up or not.

I didn't have the strength to get up and chase them, to grab my bag back and take revenge. I wanted to, so badly, but I couldn't. My body ached like hell. I let out an exhale akin to a death rattle. I couldn't do a thing. I stayed silent. All I could do was lay in the snow and look up at the sky. That clear sky.

My thoughts were, for the most part, incoherent, but the sky—which was still as blue as it was when the tempest first cleared—both soothed and bothered me. The world is strange in this sense: a violent storm's sky can become blue and kind in the blink of an eye, and a friend can punch you in the face no sooner than he kisses that same face's cheeks.