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A small, homely cottage by the seaside. The television blares from within, boardcasting a sitcom. The salty sea breeze cruises in through the open window, making the curtains sway. You walk over, wanting to enjoy the cool air. …


dreams are too sweet to be consumed
blood gushes out of their prickly little bodies
but the sugar rush is simply too addicting

they trail after me like lost puppies
i am unsure of the reason they stay
i have nothing to feed them apart from despair

their hunger caves and they gnaw at my soul
yet i do not push them away
once they have eaten their fill they turn their backs on me
and i am left as an empty shell decaying in the desert


moral integrity is something we’re all expected to have. whether or not people actually have them is another thing. “what are your beliefs? what are your values?” these questions are what you’d usually find in a quotev personality quiz. well. this is getting boring.

i’ve never seen myself as someone…


the stars lay down to kiss you
the cosmos smile in your direction
but no matter how much light shines upon you
i still cant see your face

your lips move without a trace
and only the wind makes it to my ears
sometimes i wish you would scream
but i know even then you would still be a blank slate

when i look in the mirror
your reflection stares back
i don’t recognise you
yet all i see is you

the glimmer in your eyes gives me hope of days to come
yet it’s a haunting reminder from a past i’d rather forget
i will never be able to escape you
just like falling leaves returning to their roots


to live life as just an empty shell
i sit on a shelf awaiting you
a mindless puppet with no strings attached

i am nothing but a foolish child
everyday i pray for you to pick me
but each time you do i wish youd leave me

this low-life of mine should feel grateful
that someone like you is stringing me with love

though poisonous deceit flows at the edges
from your hands and down the strings
drenching me in disgust

i dance on through the night
devoid of all things but you
yearning, hoping, praying
that i mean something to you


cw: gore/graphic imagery
[this is just writing btw]

a deadly game of cat and mouse
a captivating dance with the devil

your words are laced with arsenic
yet i lap them up and they get to my head
my soul burns black
like the blood that oozes out through my skin

your chokehold tightens as you fasten my strings
each movement i make jostles me around
each step i take causes jolts of pain
each dance i play is for you

melodic screams fill the air
i continue till bones pierce my heart
there you sit in the back row
a content smile plastered on


the moment i saw it, i tapped my mothers shoulder
“im scared!!” i whined, pointing at it
she turns to see what has antagonised me, and without hesitation
she walks up to it and kicks it

it scuttles on its remaining 5 legs
before it loses the battle
and it gets flipped…


icarus died, because he flew too close to the sun.
melted wax and feathers fall after him, like trails left by jet planes as they fly.
he plunges into the water, the feathers unable to follow him.
they drift across the water surface, hoping to be found again.

icarus’ death was a shame.
his father’s warnings words weren’t heeded,
so was it wrong to say his tears were wasted?

icarus’ dream was to touch the sun.
why give him wings if he wasn’t meant to fly?

i would have favoured this tale, if it ended with
ashes and a sole feather
guided by the wind,
carrying his soul beyond the limits of this world.


she shakes the container,

and the fruity pebbles shuffle about.

crashing into each other,

jumping up and falling back down again.

and i think to myself,

“why did she pick that?”

she takes a pinch of pebbles and shoves them into her mouth.

she thinks she has a cavity. it makes sense, the pebbles are purely sugar.

was that what attracted her to them?

or was it the similiarity of today?

was it how each pebble represented different people,

each colour a different race?

oh, how they lived in harmony,

a sharp contrast to the harsh reality.

where different people struggled to survive,

to escape their fate,

like the pebbles falling from her hand as she pinched them off the plate.


sorry.
a simple word with just two syllables,
but yet it’s a word harder to cough up
than the words ‘photosynthesis’ and ‘circumference’.

sorry.
a word that doesn’t do much to fix misunderstandings,
a word thrown around so much,
that it has lost it’s meaning.

sorry.
a word no one likes…

jules

oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive.

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