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the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav
we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo
Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.
SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?
FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire
Prelude       Nocturne;
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
       a wave across the sky

       I am lovely and lonely in
       the night, shadow-
       shackled to the mountainside

and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.
bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, bold-faced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.
VaseA broken heart can be excavated.
Damaged tissue can be scrupulously removed
and the cracks can be sealed
with the molten trails of gold solidified.
The upturned cavity,
once proofed against further damage,
can become a pulsing vase for tulips,
because even though your heart has been broken
it is still valuable beyond comparison.
silver dreams.i won't say a single thing
about what you and i did that night.
it wasn't anything bad, we were
made to do it.
but the way your tears fell down
in the shape of a cloud
and the pounding on the doors
told us the stars were calling.
more like the gates of hell, but
you think stars make the most delicate
corpses.
HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7
nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.
Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ
Puppet  My tears fall,

      like invisible

               diamonds.

 My heart beats,

      like soundless

               drums.

 Unwanted,

       because of the

             strings attached.
How To WriteHow to write:

Write a word.
Now write a sentence.
Write a paragraph.
A chapter.
A story.
The end. ♥
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More from ~Aredell

Living a Dream P13"Doctor?"

He jumped up and pressed his face against the bars, trying to see who was in the cell next to him.

"Hannah, is that you?"

But it wasn't Hannah staring back at him from the other cell's bars.

"River?"

"Doctor, it IS you! What are you doing here?"

She looked a lot younger than he remembered, "Never mind that, what are you doing here?"

She smiled her patronizing little smile, "Looks like neither of us is going to tell the other how we got here. Question is, how do we get out?"

The Doctor paused, "Well I've got a friend..."

River looked around, "I don't see them anywhere."

"That's because she's probably being tortured as we sp
Living a Dream P12The Doctor struggled as the guards began to drag him out of the room, "No! Stop! What is this? Where are you taking me?"

Delven laughed, "Your cell, Doctor. Welcome to our Stormcage facility. I hope you find it welcoming."

They pulled him down a white, clean corridor and into another; this one was made of concrete and had the look of a factory about it. All along one wall of the corridor were cells- each one was occupied with criminals from various times and species. The occupants stared- it was obvious that they recognised him. Finally, the procession reached an empty cell and pushed him in. The Doctor threw himself against the bars, scowl
Living a Dream P11The bar was silent as Fenn marched the Doctor back towards the door- even the music had stopped. The sight of the legendary Doctor being marched off in handcuffs inspired some admiring looks aimed towards Fenn. Jack ran up to them, walking alongside them. He whispered to Fenn, "Fenn, what the hell are you doing?"

"My job, Jack."

"You can't just take the Doctor into custody!"

"Can't I? You're out of the agency- you're in no position to question me."

Jack pulled out a gun and pointed it at Fenn's head, "What about now?"

Fenn, in turn, pulled out a gun of her own and pressed it against the Doctor's back, the guilt of her actions flashing ac
Living a Dream P10They stepped into the bar again, this time wary of potential enemies, but things seemed to have settled down- the mess was being cleaned up, there was no sign of the Judoon, and the Sontarans had all left to chase an imaginary TARDIS which was right back where they started.

The Doctor whispered to Fenn, "If we split up, we'll get more information. Just don't go too far, d'you hear me?"

She nodded and immediately wandered off into the crowd. The Doctor spotted a group of Vinvocci and walked over to them- he figured he might as well start off with a species he was friendly with. Sort of.

***

Half an hour later, having found no leads, the Do
Living a Dream P9Suddenly, a scuffle broke out further into the bar, and a terrified scream rent the air, "DOCTOR!"

They swung around- Hannah was being pulled out of the bar by a group of Judoon. Fenn swore- they hadn't noticed that Hannah had wandered off. They ran to follow the Judoon, but heads were turning in the bar- a group of Sontarans marched towards them, shouting, "At arms! It's the Doctor!"

Jack ran behind them, and saw the Sontarans prime the guns. "Doctor! RUN!"

The Sontarans fired, and explosions erupted all around them. Fenn glimpsed Hannah through the haze, being pulled into a rocket by the Judoon, "HANNAH!" She yelled, and tried to follow,

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[x]

I hear rumours...

:iconaredell:

I hear rumours of our creation,
they whisper in the night,
of fallen gods resplendant in
their shining armour bright.

I hear whispers of our beginning
that story yet unsung;
the one who knows the bells are ringing
has only just begun.
:iconaredell:
A completely out-of-the-blue stroke of inspiration- I was thinking about the Big Bang, and how static on a radio is actually the radiation from the Bang that we can still hear. It reminded me of whispers and rumours- and then suddenly this piece came into creation!
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