ChasingInk

i am tentatively working on creating who i am. i can't remember a time when i wasn't presenting the mask people best wanted to see. my personalities are like outfits, shifting and changing for every occasion and person you can imagine. i have played every role - slut, innocent schoolgirl, heartless bitch, damsel in distress, and they've all taken form as the manic pixie dream girl. you can understand why it would be hard for me to simply fall into being myself when i've never once done such an absurd and unlikable thing. but i am a fool for you and will learn myself through ripping off each layer of armor, destroying every lie i've ever

One-world government won’t just appear. Cultural differences will always fear. Wars waged over the smallest of things. A union no one could ever bring. Every single faith and every single race, Together against a very different face. People can only unite over hate for others. Aliens we would first need to discover. When the aliens come we’ll finally see, Our differences will no longer be. Christian, Muslim, Atheist and Jew, Holding hands against an enemy new. A president elected to lead the Earth. One-world government comes to birth. For once countries have their peace. Until they or aliens are deceased.

Prologue: The Last Battle   In a room filled with glowing crystals, a tyrian reptilian man, Seiton, sat in his high throne engraved with gargoyles. He held a glass map of the Milky Way Galaxy and smiled deliciously as his beady red eyes skimmed the surface of its black and shaded portions.   Only this star system, Navi was highlighted blue. He touched that star for interface and an image of planet Okma flickered above the map. This planet had native ships flying around it like bees warning each other of danger.   “Spacers,” the man spoke. “All your worlds are destroyed by my touch. Your corpses are disin

A sharp breath inhaled, his hands rapidly clenched into fists and his body convulsed as Rolf was jarringly dragged into the waking world. His face was wrought with panic and his chest heaved up and down in ragged, laboured breaths. "Wha-what? I was dead, I'm dead!" he muttered while cloying at his torso where not so long ago there had been numerous gouges, broken ribs and a skewering tree limb. What Rolf found left him blinking in dazed bewilderment. His clothes had been mended, his scars healed over, though definitely present, and the gaping hole in his stomach was stitched up, and rather effectively at that. "...what?" he breathed. "My ski

A year ago the world was overpopulated. Places that had previously only contained a small amount of people at a time had become so full it was difficult to go a few feet without needing to push past someone. If you lived in one of the more populated areas you may have needed to sleep standing up, surrounded by strangers as everyone you knew had been swept away in the crowd. Places that had once been completely deserted had suddenly gained a population. People moving to burning hot deserts and icy cold Antarctica to escape the mob of people continuing to grow. Then a month ago it stopped. The population started slowly decreasing. People star

Compared to other styles of poetry under the category of Haiku and Eastern, there is comparatively little published about the more aggressive senryu. Senryu, whose name means river willow, uses humor and satire to examine human society. Senryu takes on the form of haiku, but makes greater use of punctuation techniques (ellipses, exclamations, etc.) to convey its point. Senryu can use seasonal kigo, but do not rely on them. In senryu, the seasonal reference should be second in importance to the human portrayal. Contrary to popular belief, not all senryu is humorous. Many express misfortune, eroticism, political views (very important), religio

On luscious green grass only a few miles from a mountain lays a magnificent garden. Then the TARDIS lands, it immediately forms into one of the grass-like items among the garden. Out steps Artist Blue, who immediately takes a deep breath. “I love it when the air’s fresh.” He exclaims cheerfully. Behind him steps out his partner, still dressed in her favorite blue sweater. “It looks like Tim Burton threw up on a garden.” She utters almost sourly. “I don’t get your cultural references, Catherine. Remember that,” he says before being approached by a white humanoid robot. “Halt,” the

My father was spoon-fed the American Dream, chin dripping Old Glory, from the day he was born. He regurgitates lessons from past generations about how fortunate we are here, in the land of opportunity, dreams, freedom. A bug immigrant grandparents caught in the wake of wars and poverty that soon infected their children. That later blinded my father. My mother - an immigrant with anger in her veins and the truth in her gut - never got bit. She saw through the lies, the puppets on strings, fighting them with words and expressions. She pleads the first. And for years we have tried to remove the veil from his eyes and awaken his senses.

[Verse] Woke up on the morning with a smile on my face, never thinking anything would happen to this place. Everything was sort of looking up, eventually life had enough. All the clouds above they hit the ground, my darkest dreams, they all were found. All my enemies, they were my friends, still in my life until the end. But I can't be above them.. (Chorus) I'm only in Hell 'cause my demons, they dragged me down. I walked optimistic but now I forever walk with a frown. Oh, petty jealousy is such a sin, why can't they see? I guess I can't walk on sunshine unless no one hates me. [Verse] Don't you know that the best weapon in the world is a

It was something mundane— rinsing dinner plates, folding my underwear into temporarily neat squares, letting the cat out, that brought you back: The thick spice of crumbling maple leaves piled high and burning; cinnamon and nutmeg, woolwash and lanolin wafting from my hands. You're wearing a soft pumpkin grin, huddled by me under the groaning red barn, under my grandma's knitted afghan, under the silver dollar moon, jolting at ghost stories, lantern light licking at your thin mouth, dark hair dusting the cold tapered hands that I press to the back of my neck in the October night and I feel the bones of you there even now; my personal