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Sleep ParalysisThe demon visited me once again today.

Yes, today. Not tonight or the night before or after; times you’d think a demon would be out. This demon knows no such boundaries, it would seem, and so it usually visits me in the morning.

I lay in bed, having woken up much earlier than I wanted or needed to, with my eyes shut in hopes of remedying the situation. My body relaxed several times, and I felt sleep just within my grasp…
But several times my body found some fault with the split second-imagery of my dreams and jolted me awake, leaving me frustrated, but not deterred.
I would prefer it to what happens next.
The final time I shut

I used to want to die.Take a look at this papers background… It’s blank right?
That’s what your life is every day if you do nothing about it.
The world is your canvas you paint it, not anyone else.
Pick up your paint brush and paint a beautiful sky that you want to see everyday
Or YOU choose to paint a tornado that takes everything from you, and eventually takes your life if you paint it too many times.
Trust me. It isn’t worth it. I know that’s it is hard, you tell me you can’t do it but you can. My God or your God believes you can get through this!
He believes that you are tougher than every person around you.
He believes th

I reread the note todayHe was so self-conscious that he began to come across as bizarre: a thin young man with gaunt cheekbones who slouched around the edges of conversations waiting for a chance to politely cut in, but to those more extroverted he seemed a creep or a voyeur. I knew him a year in silent passing before we had a conversation on the winding staircase beside the wall of windows.

Paused with intention, he stood above me and, backlit by a pale grey January morning, I could see all the blackened angles of his figure in contrast with his hands which rested bright upon the railing: smooth and golden, sparsely haired. When he smiled, he bared all his teeth,

Important You see a different side of a people when they sleep. Some people become rolling and boiling oceans, thrashing around in fits of emotional rage. Others become soft trains, riding down a long peaceful track. Even still, some make an unconscious decision to tell you their life story.
For me, my person becomes a beautiful place of serenity. Whilst he's awake, he's comical, vibrant, and alive. But sleeping, all of those wonderful attributes that make him him, they all become much quieter. All stress and anxiety seemingly disappear from under his radar, leaving only peace of mind and calm. While sleeping, he is more than beautiful.
Sleep is important. But for me, it is not for the reasons scientists say it is. It is a chance to find beauty in those around you where you may not commonly see it, Sleep is a chance to hold someone close, when you're too fearful while conscious.
Find your beauty. N

CrookedThere is an old nursery rhyme that tells us about the Crooked Man, and everything he had was crooked. I ask how one could live...live a crooked life. How could someone that is broken...stay in a broken house...surround himself with crooked things? I am my own crooked man, and I can give you the answer. You cannot live a crooked, broken life. Your soul, flesh, and bone may live, but you as a person cannot. Day by day, crooked events envelope you deeper...deeper...deeper into darkness. Crookedness is a demon that twists you...warps you...but it does not cause your pain. Some of us...some of us are destined for crookedness. I've led my life alon

Forever LetterDear You,

I've known you for a long time and I thought that we could tell
each other anything, but now I know it isn't true. I knew that
your condition was worsening, but I didn't know it was so bad.
I found out that you had cancer the other day. You tried to hide
it from me, but I found the chemo dates in that pocket in your
bag you thought hid everything from the world. From me. From
me, your only trusted person in the universe. And that's not all
I discovered.

Those chemotherapy dates were expired, past. You've been through
maybe six or seven tests now. And I talked to your doctor about
it and he told me that you have maybe three weeks l

SometimesSometimes, you feel like giving up. In your mind, you had given up all hope and all that’s left to do is to quietly disappear in a corner. Perhaps you didn’t have enough courage to continue moving on; afraid of failure, you stand still in the road called life, unsure of what to do next. Fear of being unable to stop what’s going to happen next, fear of being unable to prevent that same mishap from happening again, fear of falling again after that one thousand failures. Because of that fear, you’re moving further from me.

“Now all I want to do is forget this ever happened. Forget it all, go to sleep, and never wak

The Standard TwistWhat’s considered Normal
If we're all considered Odd,

Is Normal having no beliefs,
Is Normal loving God?

Is Normal picking up a smoke,
And lying down to rest,

Is Normal being better than you can be,
Is Normal really the best?

Is Normal a thing I can strive for,
Is it something I should be,

Is Normal the word you'd use to describe,
What you see when you see me?

In a world full of questions,
I like to ask myself,

If normal is something we aim for,
Why all those trophies on our shelves?

Because awards come from Oddity,
Where you do things with your heart,

And if you do them Normally,
You're hopeless from the start,

Oddity is what

A Stand for Sexuality.I’ve been waiting a while to get the chance and write this just to put it out there and try and make a difference. First of all;

Definition of Homosexual:
adjective
(of a person) sexually attracted to people of one's own sex.
• involving or characterized by sexual attraction between people of the same sex: homosexual desire.
noun
a person who is sexually attracted to people of their own sex.

Definition of Homophobia:
noun
an extreme and irrational aversion to homosexuality and homosexual people.

Now I guarantee that so many people who are homophobic or are uncomfortable with homosexuals, bisexuals, or anyone that is not hetero

If OnlyIf only you could understand the depths to which I hate myself; like a maniac bottled inside a cage with barbed wire around his throat. If only you could see the blood I've shed, bottled up and buried with the last remnants of my being, just to stop offending your eyes. If only you could fathom the horrors these two eyes have lived; so potent in the night, rendering me sleepless still. If only you could feel the fire burning in my chest; the relentless yearning transfixed behind thick walls of flesh. If only you could touch the longing; so desperate, like a fish that swims through sewers, calling out behind dark corners; begging for another l

Twisted SmilesI stand here looking at the cloudy sky above me. It smiles its most maniacal smiles and laughs as rain begins to pour from the murky heavens. I simply stare into the rain and begin to smile back.

It is my most delirious smile, full of mischief and laughter. The rain responds with a quiet gust of laughing wind. My twisted smile, it curves even further.

I take a deep breath and laugh, knowing that inside of this madness, that this is where I want to be. It is here where my heart desires to be, it is here where I belong, it is here where I am immersed in this sunken abyss.

The raven with his call of laughter, he never seemed so loud. Even in

This ManThis man is different from Pa. He's like a distinct reflection, making my world and understanding different than before.

Ma says that this man once told her that Pa was stupid to drop our family. After that, I always sat in my room--well, a room not MY room--wondering..........what was so special about my family? We're probably one of the worst families there is. A lost woman, now the head of a bunch of lost members, a dazed teenager, an isolated gamer, a quick tempered girl and two pets, who would want to choose us?

His family is more interesting. His wife is one of the religious group leaders at church, his daughter is a high school gradu

Blame and TrustNo one really thinks about it when they pick up the knife,

“Yo-ho! I’m here, the party can start now baby!” a girl with dark brown hair, it could be easily be mistaken as black in shadows. In truth there was a faint violent tang to it from her most recent hair-dye. She wore a black tank top and blue jeans there were broken on the knees. A black wrist band and her hair was clipped up making it spike and bounce with each step. Her shoes were black but had a white stripe on the very bottom. She also wore a dark azure ring on the opposite hand, around her middle finger. The way her right side of her face was a long thick hair l

Pre and Post Routine"Cut, cut, cut my skin
Take my pain away.
Quickity, quickity, quickity, quick
I wash it down the drain.

Now, now, let it bleed
Let them bleed away.
Soon, soon, they will heal
And scars they will be made."

I stood in front of the mirror, undressed with the shower on behind me. My face turned sour at my reflection making it all too easy to duck down and take the pencil sharpener blade from my pocket. Easily I could see the marks where my too-tight-bra would grip and began slicing inside those lines.

At first they weren't deep enough. Then I pressed harder and cut wildly on my side, back, the side of and underneath my breast, and then low in

to everyone who gave me a fav to everyone who gave me a fav thank you very much

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DefinitionStream surrounds: texts,
calls, expectations.

Pulse within,
that blank,
feels strangely alien.

Worry: the seed needs
an acorn shell.

Relief is release.
Bee plays with a blade of grass:
outside discovered.

Birdlike the soul findsFrown of frustration from him;
she savaged the self crafted.
A drop of sweat almost hit the ground,
but the feathery arm was quite a surprise.
Perched, it was no struggle to take off,
and I met you while making loops in the air.

Highly placed,
transfixed by the refinement of brick, wood.
Then, gliding between buildings,
the power of the draft,
the grandeur of building.
Our day ended atop a telephone pole,
seeing the bright orange and rosy pink fade away.

We don't have a song.
All we have is a natural strength
from an unnatural happening.
You almost left your burden in tears
before you were on that skyscraper,
searching.

Frustration with dA"Thanks for the watch,"
then nothing else.
Polite, meaningless words.
Of course we know
not every stroke can be stared at,
not every noun can be analyzed.

Not every one can be friends.

I remember giving treats
to an old, deaf, ailing dog.
I remember bearing its smell
in order to pet it.
A cat saw this. The cat would
jump in front of me,
trying to get my leg to rub
against its fur.

Animals may not know to be grateful,
but they don't take for granted
what is good.

SummerRipples – murky pond -
fanning out against the dark
the color of chalk

Kobayashi Issa: Don't worry, spidersHappy Mother's Day

Don't worry, spiders
Kobayashi Issa (tr. Robert Hass, from The Essential Haiku)

Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.

Comment:

1. I spared many a spider growing up. Mom said spiders killed other pesky insects and shouldn't be smashed promptly. They could be helpers for keeping the house clean, if it weren't for those webs they tend to create.

I still spare spiders for the most part. (Admittedly, I don't think I've ever lived anywhere spotless.)

2. Hass makes two points relevant to our consideration of the poem. First, there is probably a hidden seasonal reference. This is about summer, where housekeepers are

We see the sky where it is skylessNot the crystal with the bluish tint,
nor the dark wisps rising from cigars.
Another realm entirely. There,
day ends in royal purple, fiery orange.
Gray walls hold those colors for an instant.
Air places dew drops upon grass,
as if to say the world begins afresh.
Birds fly together, each supporting the other.

Now the sound of change striking the sidewalk,
the smell of dirty pigeons collected.
Noting the white of the closed blinds of hospital rooms.

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Love in Texas

by *akarra, Jun 16, 2012, 12:24:51 AM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

1. Today a stray cat approached a friend and me while we were talking. It rubbed against both of our pant legs and was tremendously affectionate. It had a wound near its head that looked like another animal attacked it.

I'm calling animal control tomorrow, but I'm going to miss that cat. I really don't like the thought of it being put down: I just hope they can find someone who will take it. I'd take it if I weren't deathly allergic. The little cat hair it left triggered my asthma almost immediately.

2. Friendship is probably not seen as valuable in a goal-oriented, materialistic age. There are things to be accomplished! You go to school to get grades, use grades to get opportunities and jobs, use jobs to find someone to settle down with, buy a house and have a family or see your career as an end in itself and amass success. You shouldn't even read a book unless you get something definite out of it. How on earth can time with other people who are not formally committed to you be of any interest?

What we didn't anticipate in our friendless age: when friends go, so do home and family. Families can be wrapped up in the most arcane rules and petty politics even while being seen as a group one can do anything with. The virtue of family, that shared love can be extended, is meaningless. There's no one for whom such love can be extended.

What that cat wanted simply doesn't exist.

3. Can't complain. Plenty of people do amazing things for me and treat me well. They even listen to the crazy, stupid things I have to say. I'm still thinking of that damn cat.

I've been addicted to Lauridsen's "Ave Maria" recently. Like "O Magnum Mysterium" and "Lux Aeterna," it has warm, chromatic tones and a tender feel. It doesn't seem cloying to me. The emphasis is on Mary as Mother and raising one's voice to her in a salute. Lauridsen's setting definitely makes sure "Hail Mary" goes with the verses describing Mary's earthly task and "Holy Mary" with those that unite us to her in hope.

I don't know what to say. To complain would be ungrateful. At the same time, I get the feeling that if I'm feeling a lack of affection, some others are feeling a lack that much more. This state is what it is: self-reliant and rugged and individualistic. At least around Philadelphia, we were once apprehensive about Michael Vick.

Love in Texasby *akarra

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

Lonely.

Originally appeared on my blog: [link]

If you like, facebook likes are appreciated.

This was meant to be a study for a poem. Poem hasn't materialized.

I have yet to distribute prizes. Many of you I have to catch up with. I know, I'm behind on a lot of things. *sigh*

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~LauraChan3 Aug 28, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

you made me want to try to write "stream of consciousness" more...although it takes a lot of courage to bare on feelings without the imagery of poetry...or at least for me (and the way I write). I guess it makes me feel vulnerable.
But the way you wrote this is so natural, simple and heart felt, that it spontaneously made me reflect on my own life and my own sense of unease.
So...thank you for this piece!

~summerpoetry Jun 18, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

this went deep. 1. I love cats and the way they rub against my legs, and rather prefer them to people, which brings me to 2. People are only out to get what they want and if someone doesn't fulfill their needs they leave them. Happens to me over and over. So I can relate to 3. as well. I know I shouldn't complain but I am lonely too. haha (ignore this, just rambling)

~Bowser-Sol Jun 17, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

You live in Texas? Where about, if you don't mind me asking?

~IchigoNeko1997 Jun 16, 2012

All I can say is that this is amazing ^^

~purplemadness501 Jun 16, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Dat poor cat

*Lewanut Jun 16, 2012

This really tugged at my heartstrings. For one, because I'm a big cat lover, and for another, because I realize that this dissolution of familial love is a big part of the problems I've been seeing around me. Very well written.

!KyeWriting Jun 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

The Ave Maria song reminds me a lot of Temppeliaukio Church in Helsinki. If you ever find yourself in that beautiful city, go to that specific church. It's built inside a mountain, underground. It is the most beautiful church I have ever been in. Even beats St. Paul's cathedral in London, in its simplicity.

Anyway. Love is there, and so is affection, friendship and longing. But when we're hurt or lonely they just seem to crash beneath this material age we're living in. But if you widen your search and open your heart, then it's there.

I hope you find it

And don't care too much about what other people expect or want from you. Do your own thing. We'll still love you.

=Sammur-amat Jun 16, 2012 General Artist

's cure all loneliness!

*DramiraDarkthorn Jun 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I'm THAT allergic to cats as well. >.<

The way you made this seem so casual made it a more interesting read to me. Like how instead of "A friend and I", which most people don't actually say when they speak, you have the more usual "and me".

I like the beginning of two, the concepts and points you make. It flowed well from 1, the way the topic came up, it seems like I'm listening right as you're thinking at these moments.

Same with the ending! I think all of this was interesting and effective. It seems just like how real thoughts come along but with the progression of well put together prose.

*L-Inque Jun 16, 2012

I call this "stream of consciousness" A very valuable tool for a writer. I too am behind on so many things.
The lack of real friendship in the world is a truism. We are all walking around with lonely hearts and we never do anything about it.
Keep plugging. Some days are good and some days could be better.

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