It’s not something meant to keep,
Like a flower pressed the colours seep.
However close — becoming less palpable when scorned,
Originally palpable in mind — now a crown thorned.
Hence now his soul softly weeps,
While all else in the city sleeps.

Broken down like a clock in dismay,
Gears stopped and springs in disarray.
A clock-makers hands work nimble and swift,
Repairing the ties, the dissonance and rift.
Time again now moving soon, a boon, looking to the moon.
Wishful thinking, but wistful ways,
Poetic thinking to relieve melancholy days.
Wish I may, wish I might – nay not tonight.

Yet in obscurity light may be found,
Deep within the mountains or deep below ground.
The spark — and granted will to rise.
Commit thyself in nature’s eyes.
Thus never let go of thine tangible immaterial,
And always meet with a welcome most cordial.
Certainly Nostradamus himself could not predict,
A wish granted as if divine, too perfect,
Too rare, too… too manifest and chances thinner than air.
Surely not of the original imprisoned hell,
Air out of reach with no sense of impel.

Yet there standing now and scorpions out of mind,
Bells toll for less black an occasion I find.
Bolts of cloth — shade white,
Happy and full of delight.

Hence now he lies and softly sleeps,
While all else in the city weeps.

Hi everyone,

I sat in the audience yesterday to watch you pour your hearts and souls into the minds of all those who were there because they loved you. I’m not sure you even know how difficult and brave it is to do that — to share something so deeply personal and yours with an audience. Thank you. And to the grade nines . . . the future of writing and the love of words is alive and well at FJR.

Congratulations to you all. You are missed. And congratulations to you, Mr. Stidham, for doing such an amazing job.

The longer I look, the more I see,

and the desire to shield my eyes

grows.

“You discust me,

In ways, unimaginable.”

I say aloud, my strong voice, not faultering,

says to the ugly face before me.

Her tears grow, I can see one edging her cheek.

“Don’t cry, just accept, you child!”

I see her eyes grow wide as I say this,

but the pain is plain on her face,

as she opens her mouth slightly, and a small voice,

so miniscule compared to my booming sound,

whispers,

“You’re Wrong.”

I consider this.

But then I look harder, and still,

all I see is the awful face, that is hated by so many,

starring back at me. 

“The sooner you realize, the less heart-break you’ll have.

Just, trust me”.

Then, the tears, they spill,

and she grabs the sink before her, for support.

After numerous minutes,

many sobs,

and countless tears,

she takes a deep breath, and wipes the reminants of the tears.

Grabbing everything her hands find,

she smoothers as much make-up

as possible, to conceal the hideous face beneath.

Then, I look into the mirror one last time,

 to see if anything has changed.

No.

So I leave for what is sure to be

an average day

of more shame.

schOol calls me deluded, society labels me iNsane.

pEople deem me a psychopath, my peers think I am weak-Willed.

my acquaintances fORsakened me, my friends abandoned me.

dignity has widowed me, knowLeDge cast me away.

the Ones i called iNspiration insults me, the eid has evicted mE.

i sought to Love, i sOught to keep, but i lost it all.

the sympathizer my Vindicator

the empathEtic my accuser.

many may love, many may die for the love.

Diesen Liebe der welt.

Beastly demons of past sins
Poisoning you with destructive thoughts
Reek havoc on your mind,
Dancing on the edge of the insanity,
It beckons you, calling your name
Swallows you in the silence,
Hold on to that single thread.
Until a simple slip, a loss of grip,
Descending into eternal darkness
Nightmare madness takes control
Vile wickedness, devil sought
Terrifying sinister laughter
Seizes a tormented soul
They pushed you over the edge,
You lost balance.
Revealing sincere insincerity
and a soul of malice
This goes beyond theory
Stop screaming at the silence
before insanity has you chained
Have you ever had the giggles?
Insanity wants to play,
Dripping slowly into your life,
You won’t notice it until it consumes you,
Smothering you with the voices,
Your senses will be suffocated, there’s nothing you can do
The whispers of insanity will reveal what is left of the truth.
In that tiny cushioned room,
Where no one can set you free,
That’s when you will think of me.

This is my first short story and I know it’s quite rough. I wrote it during the first fiction workshop and have been doing my best to edit it. Hope you like it. I’m thinking of changing the line before the last one to something more like a change of heart rather than what it is. Let me know if you think that that would work.

“Kiss, kiss!”

Every morning. Every goddamn morning! For five years.

She’d wake up and whisper it in my ear. At breakfast, while I poured some cereal, she’d pretty much sing it. When she finally walked out the door, she’d smile and use it in the place of a kiss.

No real kiss. No hug. Just her friendly cry as she left every morning.

I was tired of it. We were married! Didn’t that mean anything? Even Catholics believe that kissing is okay before marriage and she’s not even religious! A real kiss would be nice one in a while. She didn’t seem to think so.

Today, I would change that.

When I got home I started dinner, fed the dog, and finished my work. It was a normal night, or so anyone who watched would think.

The familiar rumble of her car made me move twice as fast. My feet slipped as I raced to make sure everything looked normal. I threw food onto two plates and searched for two wine glasses. She couldn’t know what I had done. If she saw me, she’d know.

There was a click as her key turned.

Kiss, kiss.

A creak as the hinges strained.

Kiss, kiss.

Then there she was, smiling happily, and humming softly.

She suspected nothing, just as I’d spent hours, day, weeks preparing.

I put the plates on the table and greeted her, leaning forward for a kiss. She pulled away and sing-songed, “Kiss, kiss!”

My eyes narrowed and I fought the urge to scream. Just a few more moments, I told my self. I few more minutes, and my problems would be over.

“Why don’t you sit down? I made dinner,” I suggested, forcing a smile on my face. I urged her towards the place setting by the kitchen door. It was her plate, and her glass. As long as she sat it would all work out.

Just as I knew she would, she sat, eyeing her plate with only hunger in her eyes.

I sat across from her and watched her take her first bite, holding my breath until she’d swallowed.

Before I could stop myself, I jumped up, crying out with victory. “Ha! I’ve done it! It worked!”

She looked at me for a moment, her soft eyes confused until it started. She clasped her throat coughing, gagging, sputtering. Her body slumped forward and she fell from the chair.

I tried to stay happy, to feel as confident as I had felt while I crushed the pill into her pasta.  It was impossible. Seeing her suffering was breaking my heart.

Her skin started to sag, and her tongue turned to ash.

No! She was only supposed to kiss me! It was just ecstasy! No! This was wrong, all wrong!

I ran to her side and wept onto her graying hair.

Then she said two words that changed my life.

“Kiss, kiss.”

Walking in, I remember he looked very peculiar. His slouched posture and gimped movement received many disgusted glances. His clothes reeked, as if he had just jumped into a mud puddle. His shiny gold tooth glistened as is stuck out of his expressionless mouth. As I gazed at his face more so, I discovered something distant as he stared back at me. His face, completely drained of colour, made him look withered and old, yet, his whiteness reminded me of Scruff, our housecat.

 This man was very sad, and in turn, made me very depressed. One single tear guided my eye on a path to his. That beautiful and strange flash of auburn I will remember forever. It looked mystical, and glistened in the bright rays of light that poured in from the windows of the bank. At least, that is where my father told me we were. I remember imagining we were off in some faraway land meeting new people and fleeing from bad guys; giving money to the poor, like the guy I liked to call Parrot Hood. The only thing that glued me to reality was a smile from my new friend. I tugged my dad’s hand, and pleaded if I could say hi to him. His response was quick. A hushed, but stern “NO!” prevented me from comforting my sad buddy.

 He had a friend too actually. All dressed in black and walking in step with him. I couldn’t take his sadness anymore. So I slipped from my father’s loosened clasp just as he was about to give money to some weird lady behind the counter. Everything next, happened so quickly. As I grabbed my friend’s hand, he jumped because I took him by surprise, and he then startled his friend. A loud bang filled the room, but I couldn’t hear anything afterward. My head swelled in pain, and a loud ringing sound jostled inside my ears. I felt wet and numb, and not the fun wet like when I ran around in the rain. This was much heavier and ickier.

 I fell to my knees, then in a rushed horror, they all came to me so quickly and intensely; pain, fear, loneliness, desperation, yet, I couldn’t understand what they all meant. Then suddenly, all in an instant, I felt like I was maturing from the moment my friend’s game of cops and robbers ended, to my dad stiff as a board in shock, to me being hoisted onto some bed. I finally realized why my dad did the things he did, and prevented me from doing some things I wanted to do. Yet, as I was strapped down, all nice and snug, I could feel a piece of myself drifting away. Replacing my recent fun of Saturday morning cartoons and mac-and-cheese lunches was an instant racking in my brain. My friend had nothing to do with it, I knew that.

 At least I don’t think he did, because the last thing I remember seeing was my new friend, my last friend, turning to me as he walked away, putting down his badge – I would know because I had recently got one as a prize in my Cheerios breakfast. As he looked at me, his auburn eyes no longer showed the sadness he felt before. It seems he was sad for me. I didn’t have much time to question it though, because as I could feel myself pouring away, I got very tired. So I just stared up into the sky as I was dragged away with my father at my side, crying. The sun was very bright that day, very white, and it only got whiter.

Stop writing

Stop talking

Stop thinking is all I hear.

Why must you control me?

So what if I reference to sadness too often?

Must you take away my soul?

There are no limitations to my freedom.

Maybe there isn’t light when I open the door,

But must you stare at me through goggled eyes?

Of course, I forgot, you have no mind.

If one of us should stop, take a look in the mirror.

Your mind is narrowed to the core with false belief.

Teacher tells us to shush, but  I keep talking.

Why should I shut my mouth.

I am independent, I am strong.

You look at me with awe.

You whisper accusations about me to friends all around.

Emo, stalker, weirdo.

I look around in REALITY and see these things.

Break free. Break free! BREAK FREE ALREADY!

Open your eyes! Remove the goggles that cloud your vision, the goggles that direct your senses toward trust and joy.

There is more than your pride. More than your surreal safety.

Be awakened before you are gone for good, before you will not even listen.

Are you there? Are you listening? Or am I too late?