anniba

i eat diamonds for breakfast

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do you? by anniba, literature

thirty ____ street by anniba, literature

Literature

thirty ____ street

sometimes when i take the wrong street (which was still the right street six years ago and simply home before that) sometimes then when i pass your blocked-off door and boarded windows (that seem to sit lower than they used to but you wouldn't even know that i'm getting taller) i think maybe you did win because maybe being alone with time to forget is a better prize than having to hide scars and tell things to people who rarely say 'well done' and maybe it's like when you're a child and you close your eyes and make believe that everything's gone except that you're fifty-four and barricading a house (not a home) but i bet it's almost as good

re-lying by anniba, literature

yeats by anniba, literature

for basil by anniba, literature

Literature

for basil

you found a boy in the ashes and you made him a star ; a mere pile of dust and leaden colours but oh, how he shone fools wish upon shining stars, and fools fall in love ; twice he made you for a fool but oh, how he shone he's a boy, just a boy but stars have to burn to shine brighter, and your artist heart melted as the burning dust boy grew darker, dry and shrivelled and harsh, but still-- still -- he shone boys are cruel, and stars even more so ; hard and bright and so far away lost in their own time but oh, how they shine and oh, how they shine

manners, please by anniba, literature

Literature

manners, please

you don't learn manners at a funeral, because who is there to thank? and really, who is welcome? you don't learn manners at a funeral. you learn the metallic taste of sorries, the shape that loss cuts in you and the gritty feel of dirt. you learn the size of questions, the burden of breathing, the sharp grip of hands upon your shoulder. but no, no. you don't learn manners at a funeral. you learn new lives; they make you bury the old ones. there's no one to thank. no one is welcome. and god knows we've worn out the word please already.

10-08-2012 by anniba, literature

flat 108 by anniba, literature

wrists that roar by anniba, literature

Literature

wrists that roar

mama says pull down your sleeves they'll see, they'll see but no-one's even looking i say mama tigers are proud and strong and tigers show their stripes so today i'm a tiger and who says i can't be a tiger when razors made me fierce and secrets kept me lonely who says i can't tiger-roar when everything unsaid ripped my throat raw i made my stripes with tiger-claws and tiger-teeth so damned if i'm not a tiger and damned if i won't roar mama, i'm a tiger mama, hear me roar

selfish wishes by anniba, literature

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do you? by anniba, literature

thirty ____ street by anniba, literature

Literature

thirty ____ street

re-lying by anniba, literature

yeats by anniba, literature

for basil by anniba, literature

Literature

for basil

manners, please by anniba, literature

Literature

manners, please

10-08-2012 by anniba, literature

flat 108 by anniba, literature

wrists that roar by anniba, literature

Literature

wrists that roar

selfish wishes by anniba, literature

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BAD WOLF by ssleep, literature

Literature

BAD WOLF

here is a list of things that you will never know about me: i am magic i run through the stars with all the blood in my veins and the whole of the universe inside me there is a sun imbedded in my bones that refuses to die, and a timelord heartbeat that will never stop not in a trillion years of shattered glass and fiberoptics; not with the shaking of continents and the wars of masters and kings if you had a skeleton i would pull apart your ribs to use as drumsticks, pounding that onetwothreefour into the bedrock of the galaxy until all the minds on all the planets tremble and everyone to the farthest reaches of space will know my

fourteen by missingnumbers, literature

Literature

fourteen

you're fourteen and you don't let anyone read your poems. you write for your family the kids who threw your backpack in the toilet that one person you think about spending your life with (and yeah, you're young, but if this is real enough to keep you awake until your skin hums and black sand tumbles down you like a crescendo doesn't that count for something?] and for your imaginary doctor. and you keep the cover tightly shut with "good" or "fine" or i'm going for a walk see you soon because if they read the words in the margins like jagged teeth, " there's a cloud in my head pushing against the edges

scars by learningtobefree, literature

Literature

scars

they caught my eye when he passed me a pile of papers. i stared not too long & not too hard because i knew. i asked are those scars? and he said yeah, did a little laugh along with it. shame wouldn't let me look him in the eye but i could see his eyes because see, i play violin and that trains your peripheral vision. i said sorry, don't know what for but i felt ashamed for point- ing out flaws, he wasn't flaunting those scars but he didn't do much to hide them either. i said sorry for not stopping it, even though those razor blade lines adjacent to the floor boards are old, they still hurt to look at & they hurt to make. he said i

losses and gains by learningtobefree, literature

Literature

losses and gains

they say there are two kinds of people in the world; good & bad. the kind that just go to church because their mommas make them, and the kind that actually feel a twist in their hearts, a pain their chests when they think of Him. the kind of people that, when asked would you like something to eat, always answer no despite their sunken stomachs and the kind that say oh sure, don't mind if i do. the people who smile at the poor & homeless and sometimes hand them 34-cents, and the people who smirk and don't even feel bad. two kinds, always two kinds; good & bad bad & good the kind of people that say that the two kinds are b

crippling disappointment. by RoseShadow975, literature

Literature

crippling disappointment.

it was so quiet that it was so loud. kind of like when something is so hot it feels cold for a second before it burns you. your body deceiving you from that initial shock. something like that. but the woods were silent as i sat up in my tree. and it really was my tree because we had carved our initials into it. SH + RD with a heart around it. it was more like a circle though because we were both so drunk we couldn't see. later on, i'd asked you, 'sean, what the fuck had we been thinking?' and before you kissed me for the first time you said, 'we were thinking straight.' i wish you hadn't because then maybe i wouldn't be filled with

bloody ankles, bruised knees. by churchmouth, literature

you are my favourite illusion by costello7, literature

Literature

you are my favourite illusion

the china tea cups would rattle at night followed by a series of sirens a smash of glass, young boys broke into cars the mothers would look over at the cups frowning and clasping their dressing gowns closer and going back to the fathers of the boys lost in their own misery they hated the modern world one of this world had a swollen eye i glanced at him and he staggered over his swollen eye reflected the sunset he said my hair 'was burning' i liked it that colour sometimes i'd properly smile in the mirror i guess ammonia and chemicals have that effect but oh no, lets not discuss that we got on pretty well he drew clocks and h

the organs spoke by ShimmeringHeart, literature

Literature

the organs spoke

she told me i was beautiful on the sidewalk, and she cut her hair in the bathroom. he happened to glance and catch my purple stardust - too bad the back window was open and my penlines drifted out in a cloud of nicotine. we wrote on pads of lined paper five inches wide, and believed with all our guilt-smoked hearts that one day light would come save us from the things we didn't know. the ice-cream wasn't sour, so she dipped her pearls in my sympathy, having a hard time keeping it together. i could tell the gallows were mossing over and our chance would be gone soon; i pulled them into the streets - i