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gift - for CatThe first thing Lance wanted to do as soon as he got home from work was plop down on his bed and have a nice long nap. But Jackqueline wasn't going to let that happen. As soon as he walked through the door of his apartment, she was there in front of him, blue eyes big in her face and hands worrying themselves.
"Uhm . . . Lance . . . "
He blinked at her, unsure of how to respond. "Jackqueline . . . first things first. What are you doing in my apartment? Are you demented?"
"I came to say hello to Rex and drop off some lunch for him. He doesn't usually eat lunch and I wanted him to have a little something. So . . . we ate lunch together and stuff. I talked most of the time and he just sat there. I'm not sure what was going on in his head, but I don't think it was good. I tried to get him to talk to me about it, but he didn't really want to. I suppose that's okay and I should expect it "
"Get to the point." At this rate, he'd never find out what was going on and he had a bad feeling
60 - Rejection: TearsHe hadn't cried since the funeral. No, never mind the funeral, he hadn't cried since the day he'd gotten the phone call telling him his parents had been in a car crash. He'd raced home, been driven to the hospital by his aunt, and then been told both parents had suffered fatal injuries and had no chance of survival.
He'd refused to accept that. He'd begged, pleaded, shouted, and even screamed at the doctors to do something anything. But they couldn't. No one could.
The funeral hadn't made any difference. The impact still hadn't hit him. He felt like all he had to do was make a phone call and his dad would be there on the other end, telling him it had all been some sort of sick joke and everything was going to return to normal.
The day after the funeral he even tried calling his dad's cell phone, fingers trembling over the buttons as he pressed them, heart fluttering in his chest as he lifted the phone to his ear.
His aunt found him frozen like that with his hand pressing the pho
RainWhen all the colors run together
And rainbows trace their fingers
Down my window in drops of
Rainwater, I have to stop and listen.
Listen to the rain making little
Animal footsteps on the roof and
Windows, while the rainbow drops
Chase each other down the glass.
Angels and Shooting Stars - 4"Every life has a choice - to rise above, to fill the void. Every heart has a mission, and we are called to be human."
- "Human" by Jordin Sparks (singer and songwriter)
It was his cellphone ringing that brought Lance out of his thoughts. Three days had passed since the accident, but he hadn't been to visit Rex once due to the fact the boy was in a drug induced coma to ensure minimal brain swelling from his concussion. He'd petitioned one of Rex's nurses to call him if she was able once they brought Rex out of the coma.
Therefore, he answered his phone immediately without even glancing at the screen to see who was calling. It had to be the nurse since people rarely called him.
"Is this Lance Kilkenny?"
"Yes." A knot of worry was forming in his throat, but he forced it down with a swallow.
"We've called the people who looked after Rex at the therapy center, but we were told to call you as well. Rex was slowly brought out of his drug-induced coma, but
b-day gift - for KatiaThe fire crackled and the wood within the hot flames popped loudly, sending sparks toward the starlit sky.
Blade watched them with his head tipped back, a small smile on his face. He looked to be dreaming to himself those blue eyes of his were farther away than the stars. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees and spun the sparks from the fire around and around, sending them into a frenzied dance. The breeze ruffled Blade's pale blonde, almost white, hair and made him close his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
Orethan watched his brother in silence, eyes dark with the intensity of his gaze. He often wondered what drew his brother away like that. What about those sparks entranced him so much that his full attention was on them?
A slight frown crinkled his brow and he reached up to rub it away with his fingers. Sighing softly, he let his eyes wander away from Blade and up to the sparks that seemed to fascinate the boy so much.
After about a minute of wa
Clytie and ApolloShe resides on the river bank,
Never leaving as she waits
For the sunrise, whose rays
She drinks with eyes full of love.
She watches Apollo's chariot
As he traverses the bright blue sky
Toward the western horizon,
Fair skin shining in the sunbeams.
Her heart sinks with the sun.
Eyes watching as the last of the
Light vanishes with the shimmering
Golden head of the sun god.
Apollo never once bends to
Acknowledge small Clytie; but
He is not aware of her passionate
Love for him and his brilliance.
Night after night she waits,
Anxious to see Apollo's chariot
Speeding up over the horizon,
Heading on the same sky-path.
Her love for him never dwindles,
And the gods are inclined to take
Pity on the girl and turn her into
A flower, reflecting Apollo's face.
The sunflower resides on the river bank,
Never leaving as it patiently waits
For the sunrise, whose rays warm its face,
Which its petals soak, trembling with love.
gift - for JennaI found myself chasing stars again last night.
Every time I came upon one I couldn't resist
I traced its outline with my fingertips,
Painting the air afterward with stardust.
It's easier to believe in fairies and magic
Surrounded by the sparkling stars and drifting clouds.
gift - for KatiaAs Lance entered his apartment, he was greeting by an intense silence. Of course, it wasn't usually loud when he got home every night, but he was used to hearing Rex doing something around the place: scrounging around in the kitchen, drawing with his pencils scratching and squeaking across his sketch paper, doing his homework with music playing in the background, or . . . pretty much anything that didn't require such a dead silence.
A frown wrinkled his face as he hung up his jacket and pulled off his shoes. "Rex?"
A knot of worry began to form in the pit of his stomach. Had Rex gone out of the apartment without his knowledge? Not that it would be wrong of him if he had, it just wasn't something he usually did. Taking a breath in hopes it would calm the speeding up of his heart, he let his gaze wander down to where he'd placed his own shoes. Rex's were in their usual spot, so he obviously hadn't gone for a walk or anything.
His frown turned into one of confusion as he headed
gift - for ZepheliaThe soft flakes of snow drifted down to rest on Shym's upturned face and he let out a faint sigh, his breath coming out in a puff of warm air against the cold. The moon set the snow to glittering in a seemingly endless blanket of immaculate white. His eyes flickered shut and he felt snowflakes accumulating on his eyelashes.
A moment later, all his breath was forced from his lungs as something cannoned into his stomach. He instantly knew what that "something" was and his eyes snapped open to focus on Uketim. Thankfully, his stomach had been slightly padded by his winter clothes.
He gasped, desperately trying to get his breath back as he mustered up a feeble glare. It wasn't very effective with him lying on the ground in a deep drift of snow and with his triplet sitting comfortably on his chest, arms folded, mouth curled up in a smirk.
Finally, he began to breathe normally, and he also registered the snow melting down his neck. He sniffed, nose running from the cold. "Uketim, get off."
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
Because He'sHe’s listening
Millions of them.
A flash of red
And a navy hat
No warning – now motionless
With skin turned to shadows.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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