When the reason hesitates,
and the voice of the heart
is the only thing that you can hear
no-one light can distract you
from the darkness
that obscure your eyes...
MeetingsThe silence of the hall in which Miroslav and Zarina had stopped to review some notes to wait the arrival of the train that would have taken them to the capital to spend a holiday period was so intense that the boy was able to hear Zarina hold her breath without any difficulty, although she had tried to hide it covering her mouth with an hand.
Looking up at Zarina, managing thus to steal a completely different image of her from the one he was used to, Miroslav saw her eyes run hurriedly away from the point behind his shoulders that had attired Zarina's attention, making her blush violently.
"Oh God, I don't believe it..." she muttered under her breath, hiding her face in her hands not to making Miroslav notice her overreaction. "I can't believe it, he's here!" Zarina said again, forcing the boy to turn around to see what had excited her so much.
Neither to talk about it.
A few feet away from them had appeared, almost materializing himself out of nowhere, a tall, dark skinned man, th
IncontriIl silenzio della sala comune in cui Miroslav e Zarina si erano fermati per rivedere alcuni appunti prima dell'arrivo del treno che li avrebbe portati nella Capitale per passare un periodo di vacanza era talmente intenso che il ragazzo riuscì a sentirla trattenere il respiro senz'alcuna difficoltà, sebbene l'amica avesse tentato di nasconderlo coprendosi la bocca con una mano.
Sollevando lo sguardo su di lei, e riuscendo a rubarne un'immagine completamente diversa da quella a cui era abituato, Miroslav la intravide distogliere di tutta fretta gli occhi dal punto alle sue spalle che ne aveva attirato l'attenzione, facendola arrossire all'improvviso.
«Oddio, non ci credo...» mormorò Zarina in un soffio, nascondendo il volto tra le mani per non fargli notare la propria reazione esagerata. «Non posso crederci, è qui!» ripeté, costringendo il ragazzo a voltarsi per capire cosa l'avesse emozionata tanto.
Nemmeno a dirlo.
A qualche metro di dist
UnforeseensA large map is deployed on the office's desk of Maksimillian Sharp, covering all its shiny surface and dragging immediately his attention on the few names of towns not yet conquered by his soldiers.
Sitting comfortably behind it, with the inevitable cigarette between his lips, Max leans forward as soon as those words fall under his eyes, straining like a violin's string while his thoughts run to the war that's going on against anyone who dares to rebel against his will - and above all, what would it mean for his empire finally winning it.
With an almost automatic gesture, Max's hand runs to pick up a pen drawing a circle around those imaginary places so problematic for him, tapping a finger upon them with silent rage, which later turns into firm determination.
Sooner or later even they'll give up, surrendering to his troops. And then, all those who hadn't believed in him, doubting about Max's potential, would have had to repent about what they had said about him. Oh yes.
Lulled by that
ChangeMy very worst enemy
Is that girl I used to be,
And she visits me at night
But I am stronger now,
And I will fight;
I will never be her again.
Everyone can change;
'We shed as we pick up' -
Shed the bad
And pick up the good
To be the best you could
Can you cry in space?Once you venture into the jar
there's no place left.
Light years close in on me.
Each vein restricts, the heart
beats backwards, hair snaking;
gasping, tears like glass beads
quivering in the void
around me and within,
feeling my eyes bulge and bleed,
turning to ruby gems
with sharp angles,
threading with my tears,
coiling around my neck and hands,
trying to fend them off.
Am I in a clinical waitingroom
in a hell afloat, which has already
seen and been the death of me.
Through a portal, solar flare
rotating as the capsule
The only sound left:
the broken static from Houston.
Rusted CrownI wish they could know
how you are inside.
How you love to bait people
How you love to hide behind a
a face of ugly, disgusting lies.
You're like their rusted King,
or should I call you a queen?
(Would I offend you,
if I considered misgendering?)
They'll follow you faithfully,
despite the despair you bring.
And your followers, oh they're
all fools too!
Anyone who likes, or reblogs
the art that you do.
You're falling apart,
hiding behind a personality
that doesn't exists.
You're an embarrassment to suffers
of actual mental illnesses.
You make it a fad, like some treasure
you can proclaim on your dash.
like a once golden crown,
you're now rusting.
And I was privileged enough to see who you really are,
so in the future, i”ll laugh
when you collapse like an aching star.
But for now, they love you,
a lie in disguise.
I'll have to wait until they discover
But until then,
I'll leave you with this.
How To Not Be Hated By Society: A Foolproof Guide1. Don't be anything but white.
When you're black, people will hate you,
because you look ghetto, and uneducated.
But when you're white, people will hate you,
because you look racist, and stuck up, and unapproachable.
And when you're anything in between, people will hate you,
because you're different, but not different enough, and there's no one to stand up for you.
So actually, don't have skin.
2. Let other people decide who you spend the rest of your life with.
When you're gay, people will hate you,
because it's unnatural. You should have control over your mindset, and so should total strangers.
When you're transgender, people will hate you,
because you challenge their religion and deities don't make mistakes, so obviously you did.
Do I even have to explain this? It obviously shouldn't be your own decision who you fall in love with.
Your emotional compatibility and well being doesn't matter at all.
You'd clearly ge
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
her beautiful words
and telling her to
keep it down,
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
It Was Never You...It really wasn't...
And I know that I can twist this truth as much as I want...
Whenever I'm sober, when I know I can put up that fake plastic smile;
Just a few formal words that burn like acid from a liar's lips!
"Differences in personality, a divergence in ideals..."
Please, fucking, SPARE ME!
Because when I look in this mirror, I know.
When I see myself looking back at me, I know.
Right here, right in front of my own blackened self;
Those eyes that both reflect and stare into my dingy soul.
I was the problem.
I was the instigator.
I was the perpetrator.
And when I had broken every last bit of her,
I was the one, who let it all fall to pieces.
So please, you don't have to feel sorry for me,
I am a bastard and I've got a very special place in hell waiting for me...
- Word of Chen, Darkest Hour, 16th February 2015
Soldier BoyOne day he came home,
A man given freedom.
He looked in the mirror,
And liked what he saw...
The days wore on,
And he lived his life.
Morning PT was a distant memory,
So too were the shouts of a Sergeant.
Training came thrice at first,
Then twice, then once,
The days wore on...
And life became harder,
Sacrifices were made.
He looked in the mirror one day,
And didn't like what he saw.
Not the pot-bellied man working for a few scraps.
Nor the slovenly fellow who'd forgotten how to clean his kit.
He earned his freedom, but he had lost what he respected...
And the days wore on...
And so he went out running, one fateful day,
His lungs burning with every breath.
Yet despite the pain inside his chest,
He resolved the soldier, would return to his best.
"You've been gone a long time Corporal Chen, what say we go once more around
-Word of Chen, One-shot, 24 February
A Sky Full of WordsA million different worlds
In black print
For my mind to sprint
A million escape doors
For me to
Perhaps I'll fall down a rabbit hole,
Or glide through Gion;
Smoke some metaphors,
Or wonder where She has gone.
I might ride on a dragon,
Or explore the thoughts of a dying man;
Maybe I'll meet Mr Darcy,
Or fly with Peter Pan.
I could have a chat with Morrie,
Or wander through Mansfield Park;
I could fight vampires,
Or make a revolution spark.
I might rock out with Lestat
Or philosophise with Louis;
Or maybe I'll go green,
Or hang out with Harry.
Sometimes I feel lost,
And that's okay;
Stories of a million lives
Remind me that
I will be just a story