Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Writer's Corner

I spent a good amount of middle and high school writing poetry. Mainly to cheer up friends or to send a message to my family I couldn't really put in normal words... However this poem was one of my first, when I was in sixth grade. Keep in mind, I was in sixth grade. LUL.

The burning urge to connect
To fix the wrong
The moral compass that forces you but it fails
Fumbles
Into dirt and mud
Burning
As it always will
Because the hearts that love the most
Give the most
Push the hardest
And never give up
Are always the hearts that get hurt the most.


Another poem I wrote, this one was my freshmen year of high school to my crush...

A sweet music to my ears, her voice is
A smooth silky face
Bringing all to their knees in awe
On the mortal plane?
How could a angel like her exist here?
Among mere mortals
And insignificant people
Unimportant souls
Regardless
One things is true
I love Her.
 

Odxon Raziel

Really Karking Old Terrorist
Everything we had is no longer here.
We tried so hard, to bend the world.
Despite our efforts, the meaning of our past is clear.
Now we fall to our feet, absorbed by the hurt.
Everything we had is gone, though it was never really ours.
At least we have stopped doubting our own power.
All those silver linings have disappeared,
Revealing what is actually near.
Take my hand my friend.
We are all that remains.
 

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
Ahem.

Roses are red
Bacon is also red
Poems are hard
Bacon



but seriously tho
you guys are good. I'm not going to even attempt to touch that. I was not given the gift of words.
(why you guys still want me here is beyond me)
 

Vaudin Miir

Planetary President of Iktotch
"Her eyes"

Tender pools of radience danced in the light before me.
The glow, the shine, the feeling all flowed like the great sea.
They spoke so deeply about things unsaid by word of deed.
They kept me locked in love and thats all I need.
A touch? No it would be a mere nothing, a loss.
And to gaze into the worth all the cost.
 

Freynk Porkins

Guest
F
Slowly her feet padded along. Small slippers wet from dew as the sun softly broke free from the horizon's embraced and painted the grass with its glow. Warmth began to creep into the morning air as wide eyes watched the world born a new. What wonders would this day hold? What pleasures? What pains? All was possible and light eyes knew no reason to fret.

The golden disc rose slowly from its slumber and drifted toward the waiting arms of the lavender sky. What beauty could be found if one only stopped to look. She smiled, her thin lips parted and the soft glow of happiness coloured pale cheeks.

It was just another day but what a day it could be.
 
The Struggle

Her lip twitches upwards with a measured tone, eyes dulling as she stares right at me. At her side her left hand shakes, fingers fumbling and erratic. Her fixated gaze breaks in on itself as she renders herself obsolete to my person, her back swiftly turning to me. What had I done? I call out to her, beg her to turn back, but she won't listen to me. Instead she mutters the same few words under her breath.

"Why?" she asks, "why would you do this to me?" The third time her voice breaks, shoulders quaking as she stumbles forward towards the bed, her hand clutching at the metallic post. I just watch as her veins dance under her skin from the pressure of her grip. "I didn't mean to" I find myself responding, after innumerable outbursts from the shaken girl before me, "I didn't want this to happen..."

But it falls on deaf ears.

I step over to her body, settling a hand against her slender waist, longing to pull her against my chest and tell her everything would be okay. Instead she shivers, goosebumps raising under my touch, and staggers forward into the bed. I watch her as she lies there, tears staining her pretty little cheeks. When I reach out to brush them aside I realise how futile my efforts are, more always follow.

"It's going to be okay" I reassure her when she curls herself into a ball and screams into the pillow. I try not to let the shrill sound get to me, but it's difficult. My chest aches at just how tangible it is. Clumsily I join her on the bed, my arms wrapping around her body, my chin against her shoulder. "You're going to be fine" I whisper against her ear. Instead of responding she pulls a blanket tight over her body. Over mine.

Yet I've never felt so cold.

"I hate you, why would you do this?" The words cut through me, and suddenly my cheeks are flushed with the burning trails of tears. We lay like that for about an hour before she finally drifted to sleep, one of her hands settled up against her necklace - our locket. Her pale hand clutched at it like a lifeline. "I love you too" I whisper, speaking the words she was too scared to share with herself.

Leaving her on the bed I lean over to kiss each tense finger, each cheek and eyelid. Finally my lips settle to her forehead. "Sleep, you will see me again soon." Turning I resist the urge to stay, stepping over piles of clothes and books and films which littered the ground in a haphazard manner. The room looked like a warzone. As I reach the door something catches my eye, and I crouch down to retrieve it.

Rather than take the shirt, I leave it there.

When she wakes I'm gone. The realisation has sunk in and she simply lays there, dull yet aching. Numb. She forces herself out of bed, stumbling to the door, knocking over stacks of DVDs. At the door she halts, reaching down to grab the shirt. Wrapping it around herself she breathes in my scent. "I loved you" she whispers, pushing open the door. Smashed picture frames lined the walls, images torn out and scattered.

In the lounge the television flickers with the light of a twenty four hour news program. She sees my face, reads the words, and feels her legs buckle beneath her body. The front door opens, her gaze lifts in hopeful expectation. Instead shrewd eyes stare back at her. "You're running late" the distinctly feminine voice asserts, "get dressed, it's time." When she emerges from our home they usher her into the black car.

"This is the first step to moving on, it's what he would want."

I sit beside her in the car, although she does not know I am there. I hold her hand as she enters the churchyard, whisper words of comfort in her ear. And when the time comes, I stare upon myself through her eyes. "I'm just sleeping" I assure her, "and one day you can join me in this bed too." Then I step forward and take my place, knowing in my heart that one day she will lie with me for an eternity.
 
Woah.
You're all amazing.
Now I feel inadequate.
But I'm posting some of my crap anyway. :p

So, this was a poem/song I wrote after reading Red Badge of Courage in 8th grade. Mostly because I was bored...yeah.

If I die in a combat zone,
Box me up and ship me home.
And if there's nothing left of me,
Tell them I stood my ground and didn't flee.

My city is saved, they enemy runs,
The war is over, the fighting is done.
The city is held, the enemy's fled,
But the clothes of our ranks are stained with red.

I've seen my last dawn, I've lived my last day.
I'll sleep in the sun, in the light of her rays.
For here I have fallen, here I will stay,
And here I have died, so here I will lay.

Mother, dear mother, I said I'd come home,
So I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that my one chance is blown.
Father, my father, I said I'd be brave,
And though it led me to an early grave,
It helped me save the friends that I made.

I've seen my last dawn, I've lived my last day,
I'll sleep in the sun, in the light of her rays.
For here I have fallen, here I will stay,
And here I have died, so here I will lay.

Some are triumphant, some are forlorn,
The city is whole, but her people are worn.
Their faces are white as the ask of the price,
If we had surrendered, would fewer have died?

A last glimpse of beauty is our flag in the light,
Before I am lost to eternal night.
I did my best, I did all that I could
They said I did well, they said I was good.
But despite all their praise, still I have died,
Even in death I'll wear my red badge with pride.

I've seen my last dawn, I've lived my last day,
I'll sleep in the sun, in the light of her rays.
For here I have fallen, here I will stay,
And here I have died, so here I will lay.

For I have died in a combat zone,
So box me up and ship me home.
And though there's something left of me,
Tell them I stood my ground and didn't flee.
 
Started a new story out of nowhere last week, this is what I have so far. Critiques?

Chapter 1
My name is Jason. I'm about as normal a teenager as the next guy, if you could count being a complete klutz normal. It seems that everywhere I go, I completely screw myself up and get into the weirdest situations. It can't be too bad though, right? I mean, I met my girlfriend that way. I was walking down the sidewalk, and BAM! We slammed right into each other while apparently neither of us were looking. We'd hit it off big time since then. We go to the same high school together, it's great. But recently, I've been having doubts. Like, I'm not sure where they come from, but I keep having these weird ideas that I'm not supposed to have this happy life. Am I really supposed to be here? Ah, never mind. Like I said, it's just my thoughts. Of course I'm supposed to be here! I mean-

"Yo! Jason!" I couldn't help but to shake my head and smile as I turned around. Running over to me was a scrawny kid with a face full of freckles, and a mop of black hair. I've known Eli for a good five years, and we're best friends. We did a quick fist pump when he got over to me, but he looked a little winded. Raising an eyebrow, I wondered at that. "What'd you get yourself into this time?" He responded with a devilish grin, one that I've come to know all too well. He was always out causing mischief, mostly to the bullies of the neighborhood. He liked to call himself the people's Robin Hood, I called him a complete idiot. After all, he couldn't fight them himself, and one day he wouldn't be able to make it to me in time. Anyway, right as he was about to answer me, the sound of a small explosion went off in the direction he had been running from, followed by a nice layer of white powder filling the air. "Boom!" Eli began laughing, even more so when he was three guys stumble out into the open, covered in white flour.

When one of them caught sight of my friend, he gave him the evil eye and set off towards us. This is where I came in. If Eli was the instigator, I was the negotiator. Raising my hands up, I walked between the two, a sincere look on my face, while I tried to keep myself from laughing. "Okay, look. I know you must be really pissed about what he did to you. But let's look at it this way. If you fight him, you'll have to go through me. For me, it'll be self defense when I knock you down. What do you have? You know how stupid the security is around here. You have no proof he actually did it. Walk away, and let this be a lesson." I gave him a minute to think it over. He looked very intent on planting one of his ape-sized fists into my face, but must've thought better of it. Waving a hand in my direction, he walked back the way he came with his friends. Once he was gone, I turned to Eli with a sigh.

"Bro, I know you mean well, but you have seriously got to stop this! I'm almost eighteen, and I'll have a full time job by then. I won't be here to protect you. Even then, what if one of these idiots does decide to pick a fight? No matter what we both think, I WILL get in serious trouble. That won't go good on my record. I can't have Ashley worrying over me either, she already has enough on her plate."

He waited for my daily speech to end, then quickly piped back up with a grin. "So... you wanna go for some parkour tag? Huh? HUH? I know you wanna. Come on!" I kept a serious face, but inside I was smirking. "One, two, three..." He took the hint and ran off. After five seconds, I took off after him, laughing.

Now, parkour tag was nothing like regular tag. It involved much more sprinting, and jumping around everywhere. If there was an obstacle, we simply slid over it or jumped over. And it was REALLY fun. We'd made it to the park, and I was close behind. I reached out with one hand, ready to tag him when he cut a quick turn left. "Not this time buddy!" He continued to run, vaulting over a railing and landing a tuck-and-roll into the grass. I followed up with the same combo, and the chase continued. I was having fun, but out of nowhere another one of those visions hit me. I was doubting again. This one was excessively strong, and I felt a spike of pain in my right leg. Collapsing with a startled cry, I crawled into a fetal position and clutched my leg. Hearing me, Eli ran over and checked all over me. "What happened?!" "My.. leg..." Taking my hand away, he looked at it, confused. By this time, the pain had seceded. I stared at my leg with as much confusion as him then. "C'mon man, stop messing around!" I stared at him in disbelief. Seconds ago, I was in excruciating pain. But there was no wound there. The pain was completely gone. What was going on with me? "I-I gotta go. I'll catch up with you later man." Getting back up, I walked the other way to my house.

Darren. That's the name I heard, I'm sure of it. But I don't know any Darrens. And what about that sudden pain in my leg? It made no sense. I had to think this through. Did this have something to do with those weird thoughts I've been having lately? And if so, how? How do I stop them? I had so many questions, not one of them could I answer myself. Kicking a rock down the street, I slipped my hands in my pockets and sighed. Walking inside my house, I greeted my parents and went directly upstairs to my room. Sitting on my bed, I looked in the mirror at myself. Somehow, I could tell that this just wasn't going to be my day. As I continued to ponder the events of the last hour, there was a knock on the door, which my mom answered, followed by a quick yell.

"Jason, Ashley's here!"

Forcing myself to look cheerful, I got up and opened my bedroom door, only to be attacked by the most beautiful girl in the world. Laughing, I hugged her tightly before letting go. "Hey gorgeous, what's up?" Clara walked over and sat on my bed. "Ah, ya know, the usual." I couldn't help but chuckle as I sat next to her. Unfortunately, no matter how much I smiled, I'd forgotten about her uncanny ability to see right through anyone. "What's wrong babe? You okay?" I sighed and shook my head. "It's nothing promise." "I know that look, Jason. Something's bothering you." With a sigh, I shook my head. "It's hard to explain. I've been having strange dreams. Today, I had this weird feeling, like a needle sticking straight through my leg. When I looked, there was nothing there. I just... I don't know." A soft look covered her face then, and she wrapped her arms around me gently. "You'll be fine Jason. No matter what happens, I know you can take it head-on." I smiled and kissed her cheek. She always knew how to make my day better. "Clara." The name came out of nowhere. "Who's Clara?" A quizzical look appeared on Ashley's face, and she stared at me. "I-I don't know." "C'mon Jason, who is she? I thought we didn't keep secrets from each other." I tried to remember, but nothing came. "I honestly don't know. I'm sorry." I sure hoped there weren't any Claras where we lived, I'd feel like a complete idiot if there was and I looked like a liar in front of Ashley. I wouldn't be able to handle that. But who was she? A friend? Long-lost sister? The more I thought about it, the more my head hurt. So instead of trying to fry my head, I dropped it and looked over to Ashley. "Hey, wanna study together? We do have that final exam coming up, you know." With a small smile, she nodded. Grabbing my chemistry book, I propped it open and slid it over so we could both see it. "Okay, so I think we left off on ionic compounds..."


Chapter 2
Later that night, I snuck out to have some alone time. I needed to go someplace where I wouldn't be bothered by anyone, and I knew just where to go. Vaulting outside my window, I landed easily on my feet, plugged in my headphones, and turned on some soft rock music. Closing my eyes for a moment, I took in the night air with a smile. After that moment of simple harmony, I started making my way to the park. There would likely be very few people there at eleven thirty, if any at all. That was good.

Looking around, I sat on a bench and pondered the events of the day. Darren and Clara. The names rang a bell off in my head, but I couldn't remember what they meant to me to save my life. I kept seeing visions of that strange place, too. Looked like a hospital room, but gloomier. Everything was dark and dreary, cracks aligned the walls and there was a chemical smell. No matter how I tried, I couldn't get it out of my head. Sighing, I looked around at the dimly-lit park. There was an older man not too far away, seemingly admiring the view of the small lake.

"Wonderful night, isn't it Darren?"

I'd barely heard him over my music, but the name caught my attention. Turning the volume down, I slowly got up and looked at the man skeptically. "Why did you just call me Darren? Do you even know me?" My curiosity was definitely at a high, and I walked over to him. Did he know me? And if so, why did he call me Darren, the name that had haunted me earlier? All of a sudden, I got this massive headache. I'm not sure where it came from, but I knew it had something to do with the name.

"Who are you?!", I yelled through my agony. I clutched my head and fell to my knees, nothing but the name going off in my head. "M-my name... My name is Jason!" Wasn't it?

In response to my pain, the man turned to me with a sympathetic face. I could see his features now, old and withered, and sad. He was definitely sad about something, but I wasn't sure what. Looking upon me for a few more seconds, he then turned to leave the park, his overcoat flapping behind him in the soft breeze. I wanted to follow him and demand answers, but I was in too much pain to even think clearly. Just staying in touch with my sanity was taking enough of my strength. I convulsed for what seemed like hours. All I remember was that by the time I stopped, the man was gone.

Getting up stiffly, I held my head in one hand an stumbled back to my house. On my way, I checked my watch. Oddly, it read 11:40. Even my phone showed the same time. I know I must've made it to the park by that time, but had been there at least an hour. Shaking it off, I simply disregarded the anomaly. Probably just my head messing with me. By the time I made it home, it was 11:58. Climbing back into my window, I went right to sleep, skipping putting my pajamas on. I was that much out of it. I'd probably wake up with a migraine or some kind of hangover, but right now I needed sleep.


Chapter 3
"You imbecile! You messed with the machine, didn't you? I've been receiving spikes in the system ever since last night!"

Enraged, a man dressed in medical garbs paced back and forth. A computer screen flashed behind him, where another similarly dressed man worked on what looked to be diagnostics. "What were you thinking?"

"I had everything under control, Sylus. I... I just wanted to meet him." Sighing, the second speaker took off his glasses and rubbed his brow, only to be bombarded once more. "You could have ruined everything! Dammit John! Don't you remember what we fight for?" Sylus walked up to the other, cold eyes surveying him. "If it happens again, I will personally terminate you", came a harsh whisper.

--------------------

"Ow...." I woke up with a slow start. I'd never had a hangover before, but I'm pretty this is what it felt like. From the looks of things, I hadn't moved a muscle since I got back in bed last night, which probably explained why my body was so stiff and full of pain. Despite the pain, I still couldn't stop thinking about that man. Who was he? Why did he call me Darren? Again, more questions. Unfortunately, they would have to wait. I had school today. Getting up, I picked out my clothes and got dressed, wincing through the entire process. This was going to be a long day.

After breakfast, I grabbed my bag and walked outside, where I found Ashley waiting for me. "Morning!", came her cheerful voice. If I didn't know her, I'd think she was insane. Ashley was the only person I knew who was actually this bright on Monday morning. Chuckling, I slipped my hand in hers, and we began walking to school. It wasn't that long of a walk from my house, so we made it pretty quickly, and just in time to meet up with Eli. He smiled and waved, then headed over to us. I began imitating the friendly gesture, until I saw a familiar face across the street. One look at me, and I recognized him as the man from last night. "Hey!", I yelled, receiving strange looks from my friend. In a flash, I was sprinting toward the man, my head going a mile a minute.

"Who are you? I have questions!" The stranger had began walking away by now, and turned a corner. Rounding the same corner seconds later, I had to do a double take. He was not in front of me as I had expected, instead walking around another tall building three blocks away. Forcing myself to think straight, I shook my head and took off again, intent on catching him. Nearly getting run over by a passing car, I barreled over to the spot, seeing the man finally standing still. Walking over, I grabbed him by hi shoulders and spun him around. "Now tell me who you are! Now!" A light, saddened smile covered his face then.

"How could I tell you, when you don't even know who you are? You're asleep, Darren. It's only a matter of time before they find you again."

"Wha-what are you talking about?" This guy was making no sense. Who were 'they'? Why was he talking about me being asleep? Then there was that name again. Why did he insist on calling me Darren? He could I believe anything he was saying? He looked so sincere though, like he believed every word.

"NOBODY MOVE!" I winced in pain at the voice. It was so loud, it almost burst my eardrums. It seemed to come from everywhere, which was strange. Even stranger was the fact that none of the other people on the street seemed to notice. "You! Get up against the wall! The man turned around and began backing away slowly with his hands up. Confusion raced through my mind. What was happening?

"Is that the machine?" Sweating up a storm, the old man nodded, to which the voice responded. "Get him out of there! Now!" Seconds later, my world turned black.


Chapter 4
I woke up in what looked to be a rundown base from one of those apocalypse movies. Looking around, I saw several others on beds similar to mine. "Where... am I?" As soon as the words escaped my mouth, a woman in raggedy clothes rushed over to me, a smile on her face. "Morning sunshine. Enjoy your nap?" Looking back somewhere, she waved someone else over. "Kane! He's awake!" Walking over was a similarly dressed man. After staring at me for a few seconds, he looked over to the woman. "What did they do to him?" "I don't know", she replied. "They had him in some machine, where he seemed to be in a coma. I'm just glad he's safe." Nodding, the man cupped me on the shoulder, smiling. "That makes two of us", he said, chuckling.

Meanwhile, I looked between the two, utterly confused. "Who are you guys? Where am I? How did I get here?" Concerned looks passed between the two. Sighing, the man began to walk away. "I'll leave you two alone." Looking me directly in the eyes, the woman cupped my cheek, to which I flinched instinctively. Sadness filled her eyes at the motion, and she asked me a strange question.

"Do you know who you are?"
 

Not Ordo

Just under the upper hand.
A Soldier

The sound of weapons fire rang out all aroun. Grenades, bombs, artillery fire close enough to shake a man from his feet. The fog of war so thick in mans eyes sleep deprived eyes you could tellif it was the smoke and dust or your eyes that left you in a haze. If you had asked what day it was I would have told you today because what the hell else mattered.

There we were in a machine gun nest Private Adam Brand and I. We had been pinned down for three days. We were up to our chins in mud as we laid behind the sand bags. There were no bathroom breaks, no showers, and notime outs in a firefight. When you had to go you went the only thing we had to keep clean were some wet wipes we had stuffed in our cargo pockets two days ago. Twice we had been rushed by the near fanatical enemy troops and twice we had to stack bodies on our sandbags for extra cover. It was strange to think of but death had a sicking sweet smell like rotten fruit wrapped in decaying meat and doused with spoiled milk. When it first hits you it's enough to make you wretch. After a day it doesn't really register. After three days you don't smell much better than dead yourself.

My machinegun rang out loud and clear as we laid down fire on the mud brick city. Badadadada, badadadada! She spoke loud and clear and you never had to wonder just whay she was saying or feeling. The 2-3 second burst were followed by a 1 second cooldown time. If you held that trigger, pretty soon your best friend's barrel would over heat and warp. Badadadadadada BOOM! You never forget the sounds and smells of war.

So there we were like I said me flat on my belly, proped up with my cheek pressed to a buttstock while Adam lay half across my back feeding the belt fired machine gun. We used to say "happiness is a belt fed weapon", but we didn't say that much when it was all we had to trust. I remember it was the night of day three. I would tell you about 10pm but I'd be guessing. The militant fanatics decided they were going to make another assault and push us out, but once they opened fire we were ready to return it. The reports of hundreds of weapons sounded all around as both side began to create the music of battle. The ebb and flow of weapons fire punctuated by the sounds of explosions. I fired adding my weapons voice to the terrible Symphony of battle. How long we fought I don't know but a some point the sounds of rushing air flying past ypur heads and the spray of sand. Told us it was our turn to be called to our fates. Its funny what people do when the icy hand of death reaches for them. They all react in the same way. When death reaches for you, you reach for something to hold on to. Something in this life that you don't want to let go of, a memory, a taste, a person, something, as if the thought of it could root you in life. PING! My heart stopped as the round form an unseen weapon stuck my helmet. It jarred me hard enough to make my neck ache. I didn't know if I was alive or dead, until, the warm sticky feeling began to run down my neck.

'No! No, no,' I thought as I reached back to feel my neck. I pulled my hand around and looked at the chunky mess that had coated my hand.


"MEDIC!" I screamed. My mind racing to reach for something in this world to help me hang on. "A a a adm I think im hit."

Silence.

"Adam take the gun."

No response.

"Adam? ADAM?!"

Nothing.

Quickly I rolled fearing the worst. His limp form simply rolled off me as I scrambled to check my poor friend. I rolled him over not daring to stick my body above a prone position. I pukled his H-harness and got close to my young A-gunner. He was a handsome kid. Not a day over 19 with a fiance back home. Surley surley he'd be ok. However, 7.62mm rounds do not discriminate and they don't play favorites. The handsome blue eyed kid that I had taken under my wing lay there now in my arms missing more of what his helmet was suposed to protect than not. Was I scared, was I angry or sad? No. I didn't have time. My gun was un-manned and now I had double the work. We fought on well into the night and the haze of morning was begining to show when reinforcements arrived. They pulled us back, Adam and I. He was sent home to his family for burial I was given a silly metallic pin for my shirt and sent back to the lines.

If you ask was it worth it. We'd have words. If you asked anything else I'd probably have lied anyway. What is a soldier? I don't know. Ask Adam.
 
Little something I wrote awhile back... It's... sad, to say the least. But I think it turned out good, so....
Here goes nothing:

-----------------------------------------------------------------
If I popped a few extra pills, would things get better?
After all, death is such a grand adventure.

I'd get to tour the pits of hell or the halls of heaven.
It would be so swell.

But no... It would not.
I see that now, what hurt I have wrought.

Night spent crying, wishing for a swift death
Hoping every moment turns into a last breath...

Last time I tried, there were some who thought I had died
I saw their reactions, of tears and pain...
By the end of the day, most had cried.
From death, there is nothing that is ever gained.

If you leave only sorrow will swim in your wake
As you climb up the holy stairs
To open up that heavenly gate
Death is not the answer, no matter your fears.


If I tried a little harder, things would get better.
After all, life is such a grand adventure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

And another, called Lines.
-------------------------------------
There was always something magical about words. They start out as mere lines scribbled across surfaces, sounds forced out of chattering teeth. We give them power, and they start to hurt. If you look around the world, different combinations mean different things in different places. But for the most part, we wanted to give things the same definition. The same meaning, just in varying shapes, sounds. I call what's beneath my feet earth, you call it Terra. Should the two of us ever meet, I assure you, we will speak similar things. The lines turned speech will simply not flow together. That doesn't matter, really. Because our lines are interchangeable.
Illic eram usquequaque quispiam veneficus super lacuna. They satus sicco ut mereo versus audacia trans superficies, sanus vis ex garrulus dentibus. Nos tribuo lemma vox, quod they satus ut vulnero. Si vos vultus inter orbis terrarum, diversus iunctura vilis diversus res in diversus locus. Tamen plerumque, nos volo ut tribuo res idem eadem idem certus. Idem eadem idem voluntas, iustus in discrepo vultus, sanus. Ego dico quis subter supter meus feet terra, vos dico is Atrox. Should duos nostrum umquam opportunus, Ego certe certo vos, nos mos narro similis res. Versus verto sermo mos simplex non flow una. Ut doesn't res, vere. Quoniam nos can change nostrum versus.
-------------------------------------
The second paragraph is in Latin. Says almost the same exact thing as the first paragraph.
After all, our lines are interchangeable.
 
I wrote these two pieces. The first I wrote back in March and the most recent edition was made tonight. You can either read it in this link or in the spoilers below.

The Void
There are several boroughs, minature states if you will, that make up London. In one particular part of this capital city, are three hills that overlook a motorway, a roundabout and in the horizon, the top of Wembley stadium. Along the horizon, there are many houses and lamposts, which signifys the very epitome of this great city; and if you were to stand at the top of one of these hills, on a rain filled windy day, it would feel like the world is trying to blow you from it's perch. The feeling of these pearly, droplets of water that have descended from the clouds above is the closest experience that I have ever felt. It's almost like the pressure of the world wears down your clothes and body. Of course, I know that this is the effect of my clothes becoming waterlogged, but the metaphor seemed appopirate. For many years, I used to venture along the roundabout center perched on a raise, concrete platform that leads in different directions. There is a subway that leads into the path that will take you up to these hills, which then breaks off to a park from which people can play on the various sets of swings and climbing apparatus or the various ramps that make up the area from which you can skateboard.

It is the center of these three hills that I choose to be my favorite out of all of them. It is taller, allowing more definition over the urban landscape that my greyish, green eyes look upon. It also has a man made path that wings around, unlike the other two, which is merely a steep climb up or down. Various wooden benches were build into the metal cages that contain white rocks, which give it an artistic effect, whilst at the same time, adding structural support to it's structure. At the top of the center hill are various, smaller like rocks. It is my belief that they were going to plan grass or a type of flooring to make it smooth, but they never got around to it. Grass litters the various intersections between the walls and at the top it is no different.

There is a certain smell that I can recall, along with a certain feeling that I have not felt for several years. It is a blissful experience to be able to be with another individual and not have to make the small conversation that we Humans participate in to avoid the awkwardness that befalls one another when there is nothing to talk about. When you have that particular type of silence where a conversation is unnecessary, whether the subject be small talk such as, "How are you?" and "How is this person?" or something important such as, "Did you find what you were looking for?" and so forth. The smell of the room, the feeling that becomes me, the silence that ensues. I am at peace, here in this time and I miss it so.

So I find myself sitting on the same spot that we sat upon nearly seven years ago. My eyes are overlooking the landscape. Today, it is raining and the air is full of gust, filled winds. It is a storm. My body is numb due to the effects of the water that is falling and the air that is battering me. It doesn't help that I am sitting on a hard, cage like structure full of rocks. But it is our place and I have been sat here for a while now, watching. You see, I am trying to create the same effects of the day that I have thought about since I fell. I can feel my hands grasping at thin air, trying to catch the feeling, the silence, the comfort that I felt when I was with her. Again, the metaphor seems appopirate.

You see, I am in the void. It is a metaphorical existence from which the soul lays within. Throughout the day and night, the physical body tranverses through life, it's fingers touching, it's nose smelling, it's eyes seeing, it's ears hearing, it's mind experiencing. This is our corporeal experience and this is how an Human, an animal, an insect encounters various points in time that teaches us them how to do this and how to do that. My fingers have touched, my nose had smelled, my ears have heard and my eyes have seen for years now, allowing that particular organ resting within my cranium to experience, but all of it has been blurred and I have not learned much, for I have existed here, in this same spot longer than anything I have experienced, in the short twenty one years that I have been alive.

But there has been something to experience, created when my eyes close and my mind wonders. It is something that my hands have wrapped around and held onto, when the thoughts of you surface throughout the day and night, in your random intervals that remind me of what I lost. In the physical realm, I am seeing the various splatter points of water droplets impacting the gravel, metal, rocks, grass and fabric that makes up my world currently. Physically, my vessel can feel the numbing cold of the cage beneath me, the shakes created by my waterlogged clothes and my hair whips in the gusts slightly, as wind bellows around me. But my soul? In here, Within The Void, I am on fire.

The world has become my gasoline and my memories are an eternal fire that has raged and raged for all of these years. Every physical experience adds to the gasoline that burns my soul, lightens my world, creating an inferno that only this wind, only this rain, only this point in time stops from exploding in an avanlanche of energy that nobody would be able to confront or destroy. I'm seeing the world burning and it has brought me a joy that only you gave me; and ask myself aloud, "Why won't it consume my reality?"

I know the answer. I'm waiting for you, still. You're my ghost and I'm in love with you, still. I've been told, not only by myself, but individuals in my life whom have come to know the small portions of my mind that they became to know of, that you won't be coming back, despite my best attempts. I know that the stagnation that this has caused to me has made a weakness inside of me. An all consuming disease that has rotten my insides and soon, the facade that I have created, without a due course or reason for being there. But I can't help myself. You see, I'm smiling. It's the brightest, largest smile I'll ever have. It's because you gave it to me. Thank you for being there, even if you're not.

Goodbye, my love.​

Perception
Existence is based upon perception, but also upon the soul. With our eyes, we are allowed to perceive the environment in which our physical vessels find ourselves in. Whether this is from walking along the streets of London to the sofa in your sitting room, perception is the perceptiveness of your existence in the physical; and when your physical existence dissipates, followed by the degradation of your vessel and the subsequent death that follows, it has been believed by the people that your soul transcended your vessel and into a state of existence that has not yet been confirmed to exist. In a sense, the perception of Humanity is flawed.

Ascension from the flesh into corporal form is yet to occur for this lost soul. Belief in this is not something that the man shares, yet he does believe in the soul; and that existence of his soul has been somewhere left in the past, in comparison to the present and future events that followed the day he was abandoned upon a hill, by the love of his life. The pain has anchored him to that place, and what is described as the soul has found reunion for the flesh, when the vessel has returned to the place of existence in which it finds itself. That particular hill, where love was confirmed for one; and ignorant to the contrary of the other. Abandonment ensued. The void within ascertained. He knew had been broken by the girl and yet...

...She is all he can think about.​
Imagine this natural structure then, overlooking the plains of London. Arms lifted into the air, finger tips that could grip the gusts that are passing through the slips in between each biological appendage. What feels like decades have ensued since the fatal day the man found himself broken by love and left with an emptiness he was desperate to fill. Years of laying in confines of an in material cover to hold together the natural warmth the vessel, confined within the under layers of soft quilt and pillow, to discover the imagination that the soul perceives, when one finds themselves in a state of unconsciousness.

For he has measured the world and found it wanting. Perception within these states of presumed rest and relaxation have allowed one to see it burn, as he has. For his soul has been on fire for five years; tormented by the lusts and passion that he felt for a certain woman he has known for seven; perception of his environment has only allowed him to perceive that Humanity is lost and that the world is doomed to their stupidity; the wars and battles between man are in stark comparison to the one he has gone through in this relative, short amount of time.


Everything is gasoline to this man and he has found himself in an inferno that now, within the imagination has perceived his environment to burn with him; and it is with that mind set that, soon, apocalypse shall ensue for all.​


For, you see, his world burned away long ago. All he wanted was her. She was the source of his redemption. These darker verses that have taken his latter life was always realize from the younger days of life. His environment has always been in a state of abyss; a void in which he has continually sunk towards an end that can only come through the destruction of his vessel; and thus allowing one to learn that the belief of mankind was right, only to be denied the ability to explain the truth.

He is coming to the end now. Everything is on fire. Gusts are only the source of ignition to the flames; petroleum has covered his vicinity; and the environment that he finds himself is all manners and factors of the destructive hate he has been filled with ever since he lost her. Arms that were once spread into the skies, lower back down before falling to the sides. He imagines that the surrounding fire have caused the build up of the toxic that would match him, thus causing the subsequent fall to the scorched grass; and the stones that were found in metallic cages, used for walls that held the parts that man installed to the hill that had been formed. He falls...

...and eyes awaken, to find himself in that relative comfort, cover in quilt and softness. Palms raise, fingers tips find his facial features and thus he is buried into them. "I miss you," he murmurs, an admittance of his soul, from which the physical vessel will continue to ignore; carrying what remnant is left of who and what he is, throughout the passage of time. Lost within the past and mere existence in the presence, to a future without her.​
At least he has the memories...
...right?​
 

Daedel

Guest
D
Fingers groped.
You were not there.
Voice called.
You did not answer.
Heart broke.
You could not care.
Soul falls.
I felt like cancer.
It was me
You need not say.
I know pains.
You need not give them.
Now you're free.
Here I must stay.
As it rains.
I will sit alone unforgiven.
 

Elam Vos

Guest
E
The sun breaks on the window case and once agian I watch it. Is this fate at work, or merely chance? The soft rays of morning, so pale and gentle will again turn bright and piercing with a heat that will warm the cold and burn the hot. Such changes. Is life thusly described? Should it be? When once seen and felt the sun will continue unabated across the sky giving no thought to the lives it has touched, burned, given and all at once in just the way it came it is gone once more. Do those that effect us most even know we're there? Like the sun do they do as they may and let what will be simply happen without a care? The window case knows not the answers nor the growing illumination that gives spark to their existence. It simply sits and holds the single pane which separates the inside from the out. What a pleasant existence it must be for that window case. It has one job and is designed and inclined by every physical law to not only do the job but excel at it. How lucky. We brilliant minds fight design, physical limitation and inclination to do or not do what we choose. Which is better struggle or acceptance?

The sun gets brighter still and what will its new dawning bring? Will this day be like others? Will this day bring tragedy, or perhaps, it will bring joy? Will it fool me with joy to later crush me with catastrophe? Wait and see is all that we may do. Weakness slowly drains from still tired limbs as the groggy mind with its dull cognitive responses to these basic stimuli tells them that though they have not received their much needed repair, they must move once more. How blessed we are that our members do not react to such daily treatment as the whole of us would. To be treated as we treat our limbs would incite the meekest person to revolt and yet the arm does not go on strike as it pushes the covers aside, the legs obey despite protesting joints as they swing to the floor, and the eyes take turns in the desired open state as they keep watch for stray toys and shoes between bed and kitchen. So this is morning. You've come uninvited again I see. It is lucky that hospitality is second nature to ones such as I, lest you be sent away and scolded for your presumptuous intrusion. However, you've come and ask for nought but my attention so you may as well share my tea and stay for an hour or two.
 

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