popcorn is good in moderation

Humans are born in to life with nothing but a body and screaming lungs.
Aging takes away our screams.
Screams that don’t lie.
Happiness sadness pain. All it’s resonance gone from our mouths stolen before it even reaches puckered lips to afraid of honesty.
Laying back in comfort spilling our woes to all who listen.
Words words words.
Too many. And not enough. None can express the poweress we gave up in our first years of life.
Touch is our closest ally. Touch still only sits on the surface of a new frontier.
Can touch tell time?
Can touch stop the storm of our lives that come so fast and leave us on knifes edge with no voice to plead?
Can touch let us open our mouths to screams that won’t come?
Screams gone and left us.
Is it worth knowing what we’ve lost?

I'm going to try and make a short story out of this I can hardly ever keep in one perspective some one willing to work with my style would be more then welcome to help me edit my work on this
Title:uhh none so far
rating: uh it has some foul language...like..ass
length: painfully short
notes?:
don't worry about the first little bit I'm going to tie it in later......the little train says 'I think I can! I think I can! I think I can!'
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Russell was a bunny as sweet as his sugar.
But his hole body writhed bitter than cocoa.
Doomed and forsaken his smile still remains
floating in the chasm,
the guts of a child.
Poor little Russell.
He was eaten BUT not forgotten.
As the girth of the child expanded, He smiled.
Smiled at the grease oozing its decay,
Smiled at each little spot on the face .
Smiled and kissed them full of delight.
Finally bidding his last sweet good night.

uh...part of a letter written to my sister durring easter. it's not supose to be very.....gramaticly pleasing.
But it was just for fun.

Well I've noticed that the owner is the only one who posts in this journal. (I like your writings.)

I'm going to post something I wrote. If you like it I'll post more, if not I'll leave your community, if you want.


The phone rings off the hook
Sitting in a motionless room
Filled with the echos of the screams
from the ones who died tonight.

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Glucose overload:
Art is like candy
The more you eat
the more you depend on it
the less it’s worth
the more you take it for granted
the fatter you get
Artist are like animals
Brutally honest
possibly demented like a minx on cat nip
sniffing out metaphors
no one knows where they get them
and no one wants to know

ask a child:
She’s young but she thinks, she tries,
Too young to realize what’s real life
She is wrong in all she thinks
Too young to know true liberty
Through her eyes is equal rights
To kill a killer death is still death
We learn to love, loathing is easy
Her thoughts are clear,
Clear that what we think is not what we do
Clear of some thing still too new
To young to question why people fight
Too young to know what’s real life

short poems from 7th

Funny farm
I went to the funny farm today to see what the animals had to say
The monkeys talked funky.
The gnus only spoke of the news
The cows talked fowls and only single vowels
And when they moo’d they were ‘o’ so crude
They were so unruly it’s a crime.
Animals are cannibals and are ment for the zoo.

Track
Don’t look back you wanted to do track!
You have to run?
Imagine that.

Morning angel
My angel has a dark window
Because all she every saw was day.
Play music moon
Whisper thoughts of morning to stubborn dawn
Run free with night and have no home but light.

more old stuff I figure I might as well get it up to date..... this one it really lame I sucked at this one....
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Tap tap tap.
Tap tap tap.
“Mr. Phaglo try tapping that pencil on the paper and get busy”
The teacher glared disapprovingly only to be responded with a few extra taps for good measure. Nervous fidgeting filled the barren class room unlike most class rooms seen on campus the walls were kept clean of all…”distractions” and “possible answers”. Although many doubted the abundance of answers a “stay off drugs” poster gives none wish to stay longer than needed to give out suggestions. With the absence of the tapping the clock spent no time in filling the gap with a constant ticking.
Tick
Tick
Random old works. Phaglo is a type of cell membrain I couldn't think of a last name and I asked my sister and she was studying nurse stuff...
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Hello! My first post oh joy.
let me leave odd silent pauses behind.
here is a story I did at the start of the year for class:
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