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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
a collection of mini-works, just for the hell of it.

Submitted: December 09, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 09, 2008



the bull and the butterfly

i break you
to have the glass shards
cut into my fingertips
and bleed words onto the page.
i break you
every piece
into tiny mosaics
across the wind
and hidden in the sky.

smooth skin & apricots

rainwater molds on your skin
a film of fog and fallen clouds.
i take a shower to wash away my sin.
and what's beauty but
smooth skin and apricots?

autumn rain

He walked through the door, drenched, to seek out his woman with a fever in his eyes and a sudden need in his veins.

She was in the living room, staring out the window with awe shaping wide eyes brimming with an innocence that flooded and dared to spill from emerald pools; the rain fell to the ground with gentle, lullabilic rumbles while the sky shook with cataclysmic power, something primordial so that some deep-seated love was shaken from her.

When he found her on the couch and took her face into the palm of his hand, she knew that her lips were made to buzz against his. So, he crushed his mouth against hers in a desperate kiss.

He tasted like autumn rain.

The candlelight clung to the contours of her soft skin, engulfing her in a special glow; his body, wet from the fall's torrential rain, slapped playfully against hers as he stole her and she stole him.

so the story goes that they became autumn rain that whispers at our front door when the world turns a rustic orange and the trees begin to drip their leaves onto an unsuspecting, frigid ground.


"do you think rooms have feelings?" she asked serenely, the words hushed as they slipped from her lips so easily, brushing against the warmed-over flesh of his chest.

"i suppose." he stroked her cascade of curls, heavy with sweat and clinging to rosy cheeks, still engorged with feverish blood.

a sweet sigh scattered across his skin, causing gooseflesh to raise to attention; her fingers traced gentle circles on his chest, before palm pressed against its median, feeling his heartbeat thrum in rhythmic succession. "i would hate to be a room," she began, pressing body against his so that they fit together like a puzzle piece, her curves making way for the line of his body. "it must be so lonely when it's empty, their purpose gone."

"no, rooms are strong." he answered, whispering sweet nothings into her frizzy mass of hair. "they have to be." wrapping a strong arm around her, his thoughts swam with urgent gasps and the fresh memories of spidery fingertips flying across his jawline to reach for thick lips, tracing them desperately.

"what about this room?"

"oh, it's a strong room." his eyes found hers, and he smiled. "a good room. full of love. those are the best."

"i guess you're right."

and they drew silence from one another, lips locked and molding against the fluid motions that became so familar, yet always different and full of foreign intrigue, spiking excitement to surge through their lips.

split second (as inspired by evans blue's "Fear")

she stopped. and i knew.

a lot can happen in a few seconds: terror grows like concrete in your veins as you instinctively take your place before her; a finger kicks back the safety on a gun, with a decisive click; fingers grow rigid on the trigger before the last blast.

you see it all, your eyes brimming with horror as the pupils grow to fully see your death, molten lava hurling forwards in an explosion of piercing light and smoke. and then it hits, but you can't feel it because of the roaring numbness like honey.

and then you die, savory and welcome, the pinching darkness snuffing out everything before the first lick of pain rakes across your soul.

a lot can happen in a few seconds.

stories are seperated by lines, of course. expect a part 2 to come if there's another lull in my writing.

these aren't to be taken too seriously - just written and tossed aside, seeing as they are complete and utter shit.

we are the scum of the earth after all, human  butt wipe. (:

© Copyright 2020 anabiosis. All rights reserved.

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