rainy-october

Sherlock stands on the edge. Waiting. Below him, people and buses and pigeons pass by, not knowing or caring what events this day holds for the man above. Hear that? That's the sound of life, Sherlock. – JM Not for him. He feels as if his heartbeat has stopped already, his lungs ceasing to function. His mind races, the damned machine not ready to quit today. He wonders if it ever will be, if anything could cause its surrender. It has all gone by too fast. The revelation, the planning, the deceptions, the plot twist. Moriarty's blood is on the soles of his shoes and he's standing on the edge and there's not enough time, minutes slip

Do you remember me? Do you remember how my tears fell into the snow that day, as you stared at me, at a loss for words? Do you remember what I shouted at you? I watch you every day, but I can never tell. Did I make a mark on you at all? Did my last act change you inside? These are the questions I ask you as you sit for a moment next to the weathered gray stone. But I know you cannot hear me anymore. Why do you come here? Why even bother? Everyone else has left. They've moved on, away from this place. But you, you haven't left me. And so I wonder: do you truly remember? I know that you cried that cold winter day too. And on another day, n

Every day, glancing over to his side of the room, I am mystified and intrigued. He's not like the rest of us. He smiles, laughs, stares but not like us, not fake at all. No, we're not always pretenders but he is never one. His joy is always real, and it fascinates me. How has he escaped it, the horror within the rest of our minds?

Fury. Hatred. Slicing through me sharper than any knife. I want to escape him, the liar. He took my heart, ripped it apart a million tiny pieces of paper and thrust it back in my face carelessly. Is this some game? How dare he hurt me like this. Anger. Crashing down on me. Blinding my eyes, turning everything to red. He should be ashamed, but he feels nothing. He doesn't even see what he did to me, what he did to my friend. Insanity. That's what this is. I want to punch him, to scream at him, but it won't work. I already tried screaming. He is deaf to my cries. Agonizing. I hate this, how I can't hate him. how

1:19 AM. Tuesday. Waiting. I don't want to sleep. I just want to type softly listen to music that tears me apart and heals me all at once understand what you mean. What is forever? A length that can only be guessed at, not worth pursuing. Why worry about eternity? It cannot be measured, in minutes or in twilights. It does not come to us humans. So why? You tell me that it can be real for us, just the two of us. But my lips are reluctant, my hands do not believe. This will not last. Seconds, days, soon they will be gone from us. We will be gone. Us and me and you. But, you say, why not try? You whisper of sunl

Tears fall soft drops of hatred as I realize what I've done. Hurt. Betrayal. Failure. Why? How could I think it was a good idea? I hate myself for causing you pain. No, it's not okay. Don't ever say that. I hurt you and it was so stupid to think otherwise. Look around take out the knives. Drive them into this repulsive skin. I want to hurt. An apology and a punishment. Not. Deep. Enough. I want to bleed. Can you  see how sorry I am? No, not an excuse. It's not okay. Just shut up and let me feel this pain. Friendship never lasts. I always manage to screw it up before too long. I,

Funny, isn't it, how so many things happen, so many things shape us, but we only focus on the best and worst and strangest. Nobody stops and breathes and marvels about tying a shoe on a gray Tuesday. They sing about love or write about pain and marvel at the orange-pink sunset. But nobody waits and ponders their lips and why they bite them. Nobody studies a grain of sand on their ankle. Maybe on that gray Tuesday, someone's shoe becomes untied and they stop walking to bend down. And that little delay lets someone else catch up to them. What happens then, with those two? Anything could. But years later, someone will

She is, above all, human. Everything else is always changing and fading and swirling around, but it is certain that she is human. She used to be happy. Bright. The girl who left flowers on doorsteps and read books and held hands. They called her May. She used to have a boyfriend, a cat, a bicycle. She used to dance, whirling around in the snow. She used to walk home backwards on Fridays. Used to. She is dark. Angry. The girl who wears scars on her arms like bracelets and dyes her hair red and carried a leather-bound notebook everywhere. She tells people that her name is now November. She has a scar across her face, an empty bed at home

stars falling, your words give me breath. sharp as a blade yet without the sting of iron. this is what i want - to be set free, a leaf released in autumn falling falling yet drifting softly softly. you are the ocean, i am the sand. pulling me always closer but not too tightly salty fingers at my throat. giving me a taste of that violet sunset and inky forest forever in your dreams. and i rise, grow wings and soar away then back to you falling falling yet drifting softly softly back to shore.

What does it matter if it's black or white? You're always gonna need someone to fight For you And your dreams And your silly little wrecking games What if someone like you just came and tore your heart apart? Apart? Apart? What if someone just ripped your heart apart?

A single tear, like a sparkle of morning dew a drop of the sky's soul running down her hallow cheek Pictures flash like strobe lights through her mind Memeriories of the innocent young girl she once knew She runs her hands through her thinning hair She is much, mcuh too young to be so very old Foreign words and tales occupy her life She lives in the past, ever wishing she could return there Every night, she entwines herself in the days lies trying to forget the hurt that has been done unto her yet the scars that have formed refuse to heal so she merely tries to ignore the peircing pain inside She weaves a quilt fromt he many tears

Will you remember me? That one girl Who always stood out in the crowd? The one that was a bit too showy, A bit too loud? The one that would always blend in Or always stand out? Will you remember me? That one kid You met in middle school? The one who didn't care About her hair? The girl that Was so beautiful and yet hid behind the curtain? Will you remember me? The fenominal girl With the amazing voice? Amazing writing? Amazing acting? Will you remember me? The athlete That could run as fast as the wind? Jump into the sky So high That I touch the stars? Will you remember that girl? The one nobody cared about? The one who

I see them. In the shadows, they reside Meer tricks played by the light? Ah, but alas, the dreams! I does not explain the dreams. Please, my dear, do not call me crazy- For I have merely gone mad. Please, my dear, don't go wasting Any of these words I share with you. I still see them. Now even in the suns rays. No matter where I stand, sit, or lay They follow close behind. I don't know where to run to When I can't escape my fate. But I think I finally understand, I'll have to face it one day. I still have them. Prophecies in my sleep. Anytime I see someone, I fear it will come true. Lately they have gotten worse, And due

Set off to be alone To satisfy my need to feed off lonely souls I'm going to die alone With my broken heart and soul surrounding me And I'm betting that I wont surface From this sea of misery The guilt I'm going to have to face Is beckoning me Set off to live my life Without a doubt that my mind's been lost Persona of a loner I've got as much scrambled brains as a drunken stoner You'd better back off soon or you'll see- Just how much my heart can hold mercy From this cage, there's no way to be free So please just leave me be I'm going to hold your ground But there's no way out Here where I've drowned, been unwound Where I'v