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07 May 2009 @ 02:49 am

hi! i'm new to this & was hoping for some feedback. thanks a bunch!

i'm screaming i love you so.Collapse )
 
 
Feeling: creativecreative
Listening to: 'use somebody' - kings of leon
 
 
07 April 2009 @ 12:33 am
Tell me again and again and again and again…

Are you proud of me?
I give so much
In hope of a little love from you
So say it
Those simple two words, daddy
Tell me
‘I’m proud’
For I long to hear the sound
I must, I need
To insure that I continue to breathe
Because I’m broken
Even though you didn’t mean
To do it
You did when you failed to utter
Three simple words
That would have saved me
The trouble of going to hell and back
Say it, daddy
Say you’re ‘proud of me’
You bastard
For once just think of me
The resentment I feel is slowly killing
And hopefully I will be the end of you too
For never again will I say;
Daddy, I love you
 
 
23 March 2009 @ 09:39 pm
She asked "Why are your eyes red?"

I told her "Why do you think?" What I a wanted to say was 'I cried' "Well off to college." I turned around to a night without stars and she said.

"call me"

My head went back--I couldn't stop it even if I wanted too-- over my shoulder to see only her back though the door's shaded glass. Her body bathed in the light of the orange lamps, it wasn't burning, not like sun, but warm like the glow of the last dying ember of a fire. I looked away and before I could think my eyes found and settled upon my father's car at the end of the walkway.

It's lights were off, the engine cool. I had kept him waiting for at least ten minutes by then and for the next twenty minute long drive it's something he wouldn't forget. But, at the time I just wanted to sit on the silver car's hood, lay on its hood. I wish. It was night, cool with a breeze that blew though my hair. And I wanted to sit, 'I cried'. Well, off and I drove till the stars did rise.

(I thought I might as well contribute something, comment if you like :)
 
 
23 March 2009 @ 04:00 pm
He first saw her at the New York museum of art as she stood beside a painting of French ballet dancers, the sun cascading down her back and framing her as a singular dark figure against the canvas. Ethel, a stunning beauty, who turned, her face a light, to steal his breath and bind his heart. But of course, as your mind already foretold, Ethel did not see Benjamin Javian, she only saw past him.

Benjamin did not approach Ethel and took the fact that she had looked but not seen him as a lack of eyesight on her part. Not willing to believe that he was just a painter and nothing more. But he followed her, even though he knew it to be a pathetic attempt, he just could not help himself. He wanted to know her, to watch her just a little longer. And perhaps, if he could work up the courage, even speak with her.
“Ethel!” An elderly women in a long crimson fur coat called to Ethel form beside the pillar she was leaning faintly against. Ethel saw her pale face and hurried over. Benjamin watched as Ethel ambled gracefully to the women’s side. A dancers stride.
“Grammy! Oh Grammy!” She said with the most elegant of French accents. The women leant heavily against her.
“I should get home dear.” She said and Ethel nodded, her bottle green eyes sympathetic.
“Oui, oui !” And she began leading the frail women through the tall arched building, searching for an exit. Benjamin, fighting anxiously with himself, struggled to keep his distance as he watched her long black hair swaying gently, almost reaching the small of her back. He knew, especially if her grandmother was ill, that he should point them in the correct direction for a way out. But every step closer he took the more nervous he became. In the end he missed his chance. Ethel waved hastily towards a man in his forties. The man saw Ethel, took in her long slender figure, innocent dark hair and captivating eyes and smiled to himself. Benjamin could only imagine what was on the mans mind. The pair edged towards him, but to the mans dismay it was the grandmother that spoke.
“Sir, you haven’t happened across an exit some way down have you?”
The man smiled more broadly, looking at Ethel first and then the grandmother.
“Why yes. Not too far down, I’ll lead you.” He took the grandmothers free arm and help escort her. he did this all with a fake charm that turned Benjamin’s stomach. As he continued to duplicate their every step.
The man chatted causally to Ethel. The grandmother petite between them. He wasn’t at all handsome.
“Hank Wilkinson” He said and offered his hand over the grandmothers head. Ethel shook and nodded.
“Ethel, Louisa.” She replied sweetly.
Detestable Hank smiled. “A pleasure to meet you Ethel Louisa. And what a pretty name I might add.”
But Ethel shook her head quickly. “Ethel!” She pointed to herself. “Louisa” She kissed her little grandmothers head.
Hank caught on. “Oh, I see. You do not speak English. Spanish?” He asked.
Ethel shock her head again and her eyes traced the sudden sunlight to the main entrance way. Benjamin smiled. He could tell by the way she turned away from Hank that she didn’t much like him. Hank however continued cheerfully.
“Ah… German? “ He asked. Ethel shook he head again. And paused for a moment. “French! Merci beaucoup pour votre aide. Good day.”
Hank mightn’t have understood the in-between but the last word was precise. He stopped dead and stared after Ethel, who nodded and hurried away, her grandmother a collapsing weight against her. Benjamin Rubbed shoulders arrogantly with Hank as he walked past.
“Nice try” He muttered under his breath but was sure a pouting Hank had still heard him.
 
 
22 March 2009 @ 03:06 pm
Slow Decay.

Which do you prefer?
A decaying of the heart
Or a disease that eats you from the inside out?
Anorexia nervosa or
Depression by bipolar
Either one is a thinness
Shadow-some and witness less
Harmfully reckless
But beautifully perfected
Either way you’re lying
Crying pools to someday die in
Sighing in the mirror
Ashamed that you’re not better
Timing the life you don’t have left
While turning inevitably bitter
Self infliction is not the answer
It is the bigger picture
For you aim to be a twig
Barely there
Forever fearing they’ll look inside and realize
That you’ve died
But been living all this time
What happened to your life?
You let it get away
All because someone stood up
And told you you’re not perfect
 
 
 
20 March 2009 @ 11:32 pm
He first saw her at the New York museum of art as she stood beside a painting of French ballet dancers, the sun cascading down her back and framing her as a singular dark figure against the canvas. Ethel, a stunning beauty, who turned, her face alight, to steal his breath and bind his heart. But of course, as your mind already foretold, Ethel did not see Benjamin Javian, she only saw past him.
 
 
22 February 2009 @ 01:56 am
Which do you prefer?
A decaying of the heart
Or a disease that eats you from the inside out?
Anorexia nervosa or
Depression by bipolar
Either one is a thinness
Shadow-some and witness less
Harmfully reckless
But beautifully perfected
Either way you’re lying
Crying pools to someday die in
Sighing in the mirror
Ashamed that you’re not better
Timing the life you don’t have left
While turning inevitably bitter
Self infliction is not the answer
It is the bigger picture
For you aim to be a twig
Barely there
Forever fearing they’ll look inside and realize
That you’ve died
But been living all this time
What happened to your life?
You let it get away
All because someone stood up
And told you you’re not perfect
 
 
22 February 2009 @ 01:47 am
“Would you let me die daddy?”
She looked up, a lock of hair gracing the small of her neck, tears withering down her cheeks and stared up at the only parent she’d ever known. A man tall and aging. A man in just as much pain as her.
He shook his head aggressively. The very question cut deeper than he could explain, tears blurred his vision, the comforting words stuck in his throat. He looked down at his child, his reason for starting each day with a make believe smile, so grown up and wondered how he’d missed so much. Where the years, the days, the moments had gone.
“No baby. No, never. I….. I love you so much. I swear it.” Every word was chocking, suffocating.
She blinked tears free flowing now. The suffering evident in her cold eyes.
“Then why are you still standing there?”
 
 
29 January 2009 @ 11:48 pm
 hey I'm posting chapters on my novel on my journal. check it out I would love to hear your thoughts. http://creduff.livejournal.com/
 
 
08 November 2008 @ 06:18 pm
Hi im new so please give me feed back please, thanks!

MY IMMORTAL.
Id go to my death
arms bearing the weight of worlds
embracing destruction
of blended skin
of tattered loss
before id see you bow to sorrow
not a single cascaded tear
or rattling breath
id shiver at your vanity mirrored eyes
and die
long before goodbyes were muttered
id go to my death
whether that be now or never
by your hands or mine
but for now i will endure
the coldness of life
until failed
you leave my side.