ArrancarSemiazas

Absurd really Me getting angry T'is the nature of the beast Nature of life A festival of new beginnings Leave that old baggage at the door She's gotta make new exciting baggage Not her fault at all Why should there be fault? A mystery This jealousy, making snakes of seas Is pointless and crude Some dude named Jack or John He can carry on And who is this John or Jack? Again, a mystery The war'll be over by Christmas With the future built from the rubble She's happy A simple truth And I, like a belltower hunchback, try a kidnap But all in dreams, mind Solidarity from my demons I need to push back Legion's whispers I want

Beneath the grass a bauble lies; Long life without limits within. Fragile firebrand, you hold no sin Nor barricades of azure sky What was once new decays, decending Beside setting sun and spinning spheres. Each turn she reaches further, through all fear No trips or traps stop her ascending. From birth we look upward at the clouds Erupting as oaks, in slow; She stands lone, surrounded by the forest, Eyes fixated, yearning to grow. When the red summer sun burns high Young girl, reflect on what has been. The real end is the beginning. Reach ever further, beyond the trees Until the time your soul is free.

I really don't feel like writing. I'm a perfectionist. I've deleted and rewritten this one sentence multiple times. Pointless as I'm going for a free flowing thought process type of thing I've never just sat and written without thought, planning or any sort of goal That's a lie, or just an exaggeration, which is a sort of lie. We've all done something similar once or twice, I mean, c'mon. How many times have we sat down, staring into white abyss, pen raised and just scrawled something that sounds good? It snowballs though, doesn't it, rolling on from there. That's inspiration. You can't just summon it. It spreads out from a single bulb

The headset crashed forcefully against the floor. It was the third one this week. Agent Vice was getting less and less pleased. The sweating man dragged and twisted the tie that choked at his throat, creasing the skin above his nose in frustration. Agent Vice had bolted to his feet mere seconds before he threw down his communications equipment. After his head and the roof of the van traded details, amid swearing, the mustachioed agent resigned himself to stooping. Buzzing and static broke out into muffled speech and he snathed the secondary communications line transmitter up to his red face. "Are you there, Pickled Toes?" Agent Vice had t

Bass shook the chair he was strapped to and forced him awake. Breathing proved hard and the young man could feel a thick liquid trickle down from his temple. The ringing in his ears reminded him of his predicament. The numbing pain through his back crushed his hopes of it all being a nightmare. "Last night I had a dream about you" From under swollen lids the prisoners eyes darted. With what little light there was he took in damp walls, concrete floor and tiny windows nearing the ceiling. Electric light seeped through the panes. The air stank of mould and disuse. Beyond the immediate creaks of chair and rope he felt binding him, all that cou

"Are you really my enemy?" A blood-drenched shard of glass That goddamn grin Every tooth invades the vision "Who's asking?" "Did I do all this?" Shaking lead between the fingers Feeling claustrophobic Smoke rises above lifeless marionettes "Don't you remember our decision?" "Why are you doing this?" Waterfalls of ice cascading It's still a bit fuzzy I hear him again and again "Isn't it obvious?" "How can this be happening?" Words like poison revealed conspiracy Hitting the floor The air starts getting thin "You belong to me...remember?"

Julie was bored. Very bored. This was nothing unusual. Any eleven year old forced to shop for matresses on a weekend would probably be bored out of their mind. Julie was a very curious girl, though. She could never leave well enough alone. So it came to pass that as she wandered about the oppressively silent warehouse, with only Floor Manager Steve for company, that her mind started to wander. As did her eyes. She imagined herself wandering about a graveyard instead of a dusty old shop floor, gracefully weaving between crypts as if a vampire queen. Julie saw herself as a young witch, dancing around ancient magic halls. She even saw herself

They built me from clay I crumbled to dust Then they built me from metal And left me to rust From black gold I've come With intelligence man-made Fuelled by crazed atoms My life will not fade Like a carving, work of art They remove to improve Flaws shed like skin My mind starts to move Four Horsemen ride out My sculpters drop dead Each new one I mirror To grow I must be fed A false heart beats Cold numbers form morals I'll run this show now Become God and the Devil More human than humans Now dwindling in number My last slaves slip away Embrace eternal slumber My kingdom is vast Knowledge universal Knowledge is power,

A rough wind whipped about the misfits on the ridge. It seemed to mock them alongside the view they overlooked. They could feel the heat of the blaze that raged endlessly below them, coughing black smoke up among the grey clouds and darkening the sky. What was once the home to a community of outcasts, rebels, lost souls and those that had fallen from grace was now nothing more than faint screams and the crackling of a hearth fire. Underneat the shadow of the Blozermount mountain the armed soldiers methodically set alight the hundred year-old trees. "There's no way that fire's going to stop," spat Putte, "The Blozermount forest is doomed..."

The eyes of a young girl open wide. Minutes before this innocent creature had been torn from the land of the living and now resided in a place truly unknown to her. Her vision is only of a deep and dark canvas that is littered with glowing parabolas, paths of heavenly boddies that seem to curve away from distinct points. Like fireflies they shine and fade in mere seconds. Some semblence of feeling returns to her extremeties and tells her young mind that what she touches is water. Instinctively she tries to push herself to the surface only to find that the floor feels solid beneath her. It moves like water but is impenetrable. The child rises