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Thread: Never Alone - Forever Lonely

  1. #31
    Monarch Schizophrenic's Avatar
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    Counting scales.

    Nobody writes songs for the snakes.
    Because in their eyes, there's only black and white.
    No blur of gray between the two.
    You get what you deserve, no remorse.

    So what do you say when you feel the snakes crawling, deep within your veins?
    From the moment they begin to hiss, does that make your heart black as coal?
    Do you even get a heart at all, or is there just a gaping hole?

    There's no excuse for sin, and by no means are we a pair of saints.
    I've accepted what I've done, and that I've left venom in their blood.

    So, I ask - why can't I accept the veil of the damned?
    I want to be cold blooded and deadly, like the snake I am.
    But instead all I feel is the pain in my stomach and the trembling in my hand.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  2. #32
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    This isn't poetry anymore, but a burnt up message in a bottle.

    xxxx
    Last edited by Schizophrenic; 01-26-2015 at 01:48 AM.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  3. #33
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    The Actress With Amnesia.

    'I used to think of myself as a morning person.' She thought, looking up from the mattress on the floor. The early morning daybreak had already begun to cut through the window above. 'It didn't matter what happened the day before, what mood I was in when I fell asleep. I would always wake up feeling like today was another chance.' Frail bones cracked into place as she rose from her bed, picking up the shirt discarded in her sleep. Taking a moment to glance over, she thought maybe it was the beds fault. Not the fact that it was old, or lumpy or even cold at times. Something else. 'The romantic in me says I just hate sleeping alone, but it might just be the fact I've lost my security blanket.' With a few tugs, the over sized t-shirt fell into place.

    Opening the door into the hall where the sun shown in uninhibited, ash blue eyes winced as they tried to adjust. Morning was always a deafening silence in this house, a silence even now she didn't seem to mind. 'Only now, it's become evident that every quiet moment is nothing but a gap for my mind to fill with thoughts unproductive.' Letting out a light yawn, she flicked the switch of the kettle. 'Even things like pulling out a particular cup from the cabinet trigger short silent films in my head.' Setting the fragile, painted tea cup on the counter she did her best to not let her mind drift and made her way from the kitchen down the hall.

    Chipped nails glanced the wooden railing before turning the corner into the bathroom - cold tile waking her up even more. Taking a deep breath, tired eyes rose from the faucet to the reflection in the mirror. Bringing both hands up to rub away yesterdays makeup, she attempted to bury feelings of self loathing deep in her gut. 'Sometimes I feel like I have a split personality and it's an endless battle for who's gonna come out on top, and worst of all they don't get along. One day, I'll wake up feeling timid, quiet and like I owe the world something for letting me still be here. Another day, I'm a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous combination of careless and selfish all wound up with a confidence conjured up from who the fuck knows.' Bringing her hands down to turn the faucet, she splashed a handful of cold water on her face. 'This disconnect with my personality, with my state of mind as a whole has me struggling more than I ever have in the past.' She watches the water drip down her jawline, past her neck and to her collarbones - any expression lacking in her features. 'And because I've lost touch with myself, I've grown fearful of those that know me best, afraid that they'll notice that right now, I'm playing a part...' Pulling the towel from it's hook, she patted her skin dry. The distant whistle of the kettle now boiling as she peered once again into the mirror.

    '... and I've forgotten all my lines.'
    Last edited by Schizophrenic; 02-08-2015 at 03:09 PM.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  4. #34
    Monarch Schizophrenic's Avatar
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    I'll never

    learn so let's start
    over, and I'll make the
    very same mistakes,
    even though

    yesterdays will never
    open the doors or live
    up to what we wanted them to be.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  5. #35
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    Jaime & Amelie.

    "Please, please, I just need you to be quiet, okay?"
    There was a panic in her voice never heard before.
    Like a new mother lacking maternal instinct,
    she begged for silence out of fear and misunderstanding.

    Her knees came to the floor in an instant,
    wrapping her arms around her sisters shoulders.
    "Amelie, breathe!"

    Breaths of air were far and few
    pained, harsh gasps between
    the spaces where she had finally broke.

    It was impossible now,
    Jaime couldn't ignore it.
    "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...
    I didn't mean for this,
    Please, just let me take it back."

    The room flooded with light
    as if a flash grenade went off
    everything was silent
    as she watched her sister
    silently scream
    eyes gripped shut.

    What have I done?
    Last edited by Schizophrenic; 02-19-2015 at 02:04 AM.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  6. #36
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    For a moment; I'll let you in.

    Hello my name is recipe for disaster,
    I was raised on suicide and sarcastic laughter.

    Just like everyone else, I've got more baggage
    more luggage than I can afford to check.

    My ancestors, they give me an excuse
    for yelling a lot and drowning in booze.

    No I won't blame my dad for the life I had,
    or the lack of time he spent within it.

    And it ain't my mom's fault
    for being built with faults
    that were cracking decades before I was born.

    Cuz yeah life hasn't been the best
    but this pain in my chest
    that you and I
    we carry every day

    It raises us right
    teaches us to fight
    made us feel we could handle the worst.

    I'll pull this knife from my chest
    toss it to the floor with all the rest.
    And with all those metal scraps
    I'll fashion armor unbreakable.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  7. #37
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    In a dream

    It was there; in her own special corner of hell, a never ending snow would fall. Away from the fire and brimstone, away from the sinners howling in repentance. The scene itself plucked from mortal memories of days long since but never truly forgotten. Her long frame cloaked beneath charcoal robes, she sat atop the overturned remains of a once living tree. The foot prints tarnishing the landscapes beauty were quickly vanishing as each flake made it's descent.

    Oh, how the silence rang blissfully here - closing her eyes she could even make out the soft sound of the snow falling onto her cheek. But it did not melt, for her skin was colder than the pond beneath her feet. How long was she to stay here? Pondering the safety such a lonely place held?

    Snap.

    The sudden crack of a branch nearly made her flinch. As the footsteps grew closer, so did the rests between each thump of her heart. Couldn't she just be alone? Wasn't it clear that's what she wanted? If she was going to be alone it was to be by her own choice and no one else. Not even a King. She would not turn, she would not waver, she would not look him in the eye.

    And as every fiber of her being raged inside her unmoving shell, the storm around her grew furious. With every passing second the temperature dropped more and more, turning the flakes into sharp pin-like shards of ice. The wind blew stronger and louder until finally -

    a new weight befell her resting place and a warm hand took hold of her icy fingers.

    The Demon King whispered into her ear words impossible to make out, and at that same moment the storm halted completely. The snow on her cheeks finally melting against a sudden heat.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  8. #38
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    "I've always been able to cope with being lonely." is how I'd really like to start this out. But thinking back, my way of coping didn't necessarily ever work. It didn't make me happy, because at the end of the day, when I left imagination and returned back to life I wasn't comfortable. I've never been quite comfortable in my own skin, and that's how I know I could never cope well enough, because I still always hated being alone.

    Don't get me wrong, I've always always always found ways to pick out the good in every situation. To take moments that to someone else are only a blip and turn them into long lasting memories. Warm feelings I could bring out at times where I felt cold. I can think of plenty of reasons I was lucky growing up, so many that I could greatly outweigh anything else.

    For instance I managed to be gifted with a "wild" imagination. Some people would consider my daydreamy take on life as something not to be proud of, but I can honestly say I wouldn't want to live without it. When my house was quiet, the world I painted inside my head kept me living. When my house was loud, I took solace in the safety of it's walls. I was never smart, I was never athletic, but I was always expressive and always curious.

    Smart people ask how, I always felt the need to ask why.

    But thoughts like these are hard, because not everything can be answered. At least I cannot answer everything. And having thoughts like these are dangerous when you're isolated because you start to think inwardly, analyze yourself. You pick yourself apart because there's nothing else to do.

    But then there is writing. The ability to create someone else, to take the imaginary games of make believe and turn them into something of substance. No longer am I alone, no longer do I even have to be... me.

    That realization dawned on me over a decade ago. To think it's really been that long is nothing less than bizarre to me. To think I've aged ten years and still I feel like the same confused child lost in her inability to cope.

    I want to learn how to be comfortable.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

  9. #39
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    "You ain't worth it."

    It's hard to say what brought me here - no, what brought us here. A series of terribly unfortunate events paved by your feelings of passionate love burning to an evermore passionate hate. Much like a tantrum throwing child, upset without his way, you took out your frustrations on me. Often I let your dirty nails press deep into my open wounds, the same wounds you begged me to reveal. Little did I know you'd exploit them at your first chance, waiting to revel in the infections you'd spread.

    But this is it... your game stops here.


    Rocket descended the stairs into the dimly lit cellar, the smell of sweat and must wafting up into her nostrils as she grew closer. The sound of heavy boots scuffing across the dirty floor drew his eyes up, sweat dripping down his brow. "Aww..." She purred, "...looks like you've had a rough night."

    The 'victim' tensed and jerked against the ropes confining him to the metal chair, but two masked "goons" placed a firm hand on each of his shoulders sending him back firmly. His glance reached from side to side to get another glance at both of them, their expressionless white masks reminding him of the throbbing pain he still retained from the previous beating that got him here in the first place. "Tch- fuckin'.."

    "Ah, ah, ahh~" She teased, wagging her finger before him. "I would watch my tongue if I were you, pretty sure these boys right here hate ya even more than I do. And they've got a bit more force behind their punch too.." A giggle escaped her lips before resting both hands on her hips with a sigh. "Boys, this basement is pretty stuffy, huh?" With a pout, she took a moment of silence to think before snapping her fingers. "Oh, I've got it! How about a trip to the beach?" Rocket suggested with childlike excitement.

    A look of confusion came across the victim's face, "Wait... what... just tell me what's going on!" He demanded as the masked men cut his ties and ripped him from the chair, roughly tugging him around by the arms. Rocket led them up the stairs and out of the house, his eyes wincing at the bright rays of setting sun in the distance. When they finally came to focus, he could see her popping the trunk of the black car before him.

    "In ya go!" She chimed as the two goons threw him inside, slamming the trunk closed atop him before he could even begin to make a sound. As they all climbed into the car, Falco and Spooky took off their masks and smiled at each other. "To the beach?" Spooky asked, turning the key in the ignition. "To the beach!" Rocket called out, slapping the dashboard with her hand.

    As the car drove on to the sound of blaring guitars loud enough to muffle out any sounds of protest coming from the trunk, Rocket leaned her head out the window to let the wind blow through her hair - a carefree smile on her face. The reckless speed at which they flew around the road only heightened her excitement. When they arrived to her favorite spot, Falco parked the car and everyone piled out. The boys put on their masks as Rocket stretched and spun in the warm rays that shone down upon her.

    When the darkness was once again broken with sunlight, the two faceless goons yanked him from the trunk and sent him to the ground. His heart was pounding so fast with fear he could barely keep up, trying to swallow the pain creeping up his throat. He was indeed exactly where he thought they would bring her. Pulled to his feet, he was shoved forward again and again despite the weight he tried to place in his heels. "No, no, nono... come on guys..." He pleaded, digging up the dirt below him. "Rocket! Please! Get some sense!" His steps growing closer to her, the sun behind turning her form into a darkened silhouette as she stood cliff side, the sound of crashing ocean waves below her.

    It wasn't until he was held beside her did she turn to speak to him, "Didn't you once tell me you wanted to come here with me during sunset? Well, look! Wish granted!" She raised her hands up into the air with a joyous smile. "Everyone's entitled a last wish, right?" With a wink, her locked eyes with his before a sudden force shoved him forward.

    The moment was just as slow as the movies made it out to seem. Those final moments as his blurred glance attempted to focus on the twisting of choppy deep blue waves that could only grow closer.

    But no - instead he hung there, suspended over the edge as one of the goons held him by the back of his collar. He let the victim dangle momentarily before throwing him onto his back. He practically whimpered at the earth greeting his cheek, trembling from head to toe.

    "What?" She asked, crouching down to grab him by his hair so that he would look her in the eyes once again. "You thought we'd kill you?" A scoff escaped her, rolling her blue eyes. "You ain't worth it." Letting him go she raised back to her feet, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Besides, I'm not that kind." The smile she always wore began to fade as her masked accomplices came to stand behind her. "Death would be sparing you of the awful life you've made for yourself. Sure, not breathing the same air as you would come as a pleasant convenience but... it's just not as satisfying as knowing you're still barely living in that bed of vile shit you've become so comfortable in." In that moment her eyes were dark, serious with a venomous glint.

    "Have a nice life, kid." Rocket nodded, waving a hand in the air before turning on her heels to follow her goons to the car, adding under breath, "..if you want to call that living." And it was there he shook, curling his body up into a ball wishing that they did actually toss him from that ledge, knowing full well that he lacked the courage.

    Before peeling out Rocket could be heard asking, "Okay, who wants ice cream?!"
    Last edited by Schizophrenic; 05-24-2015 at 12:11 AM.
    And I hope you have not a single still moment.

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