I'm traveling far,
as far as my mind can take me.
Running from a dream,
a specter, or maybe a memory.
As far as I run, the mirage
catches up with me,
drowning me, suffocating
under every fake what-if.
Somewhere, far, far away.
Mesmerized, perhaps, but at peace.
Where life is perfect and
peaceful, enriching.
As far as I can imagine,
and beautifully perfect in every way.
Embracing the phantom,
savoring peace within the self.
But perhaps, all of this
is just within a dream.
Liar's Game -- Chapter 1.3 by Nghts1lk3r, literature
Literature
Liar's Game -- Chapter 1.3
Detective Erik Larsson frowned as he gestured madly in an attempt to convince his partner, one Detective Shaun Handeley, to hurry the hell up with his morning coffee and get down to the station. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what all the fuss was about. The news was already filled with pictures of the crime scene, being filmed live as the coroner removed the body.
Erik had been the first detective on-scene, and so the entire cluster-fuck had landed squarely in his lap. It'd been half an hour since the body was discovered, but at least he had ID'ed the victim.
The picture in the folder was a mug shot, taken about 6 months a
In there, that foreign world,
only intelligence matters,
the funny person is king,
and thoughts are currency.
Where everyone is only as
informed as they choose,
and art is loved regardless
of who the artist loves.
Where the real world doesn't exist;
where people can be as happy
as they choose to be,
through a computer screen.
Even if our bodies fail,
and we slowly rot away,
leaving nothing but bones,
we can live forever.
Hello. This is the voice inside.
I return again, with one question:
Who are your demons?
Am I something you try to hide,
like the other skeletons
you keep secreted and locked away?
Or am I something you show,
and try to downplay, just like
everything else in your life?
No wonder you got demons,
because everything you ever did
will be coming back around.
A heart made of stone,
left calloused and alone.
Watch as I tear it out,
and crush it beneath my heel.
If only the stars would align,
give me something to scream about,
while I take a knife and carve out
that thing most people call emotion.
Don't worry, it's not like I
really needed it anyway, that
dead and rotting thing inside
my brain like a form of cancer.
Sometimes, I forget exactly why
I want to destroy everything.
Then reality sets back in,
and I go back to what I used to be.
I'm traveling far,
as far as my mind can take me.
Running from a dream,
a specter, or maybe a memory.
As far as I run, the mirage
catches up with me,
drowning me, suffocating
under every fake what-if.
Somewhere, far, far away.
Mesmerized, perhaps, but at peace.
Where life is perfect and
peaceful, enriching.
As far as I can imagine,
and beautifully perfect in every way.
Embracing the phantom,
savoring peace within the self.
But perhaps, all of this
is just within a dream.
Liar's Game -- Chapter 1.3 by Nghts1lk3r, literature
Literature
Liar's Game -- Chapter 1.3
Detective Erik Larsson frowned as he gestured madly in an attempt to convince his partner, one Detective Shaun Handeley, to hurry the hell up with his morning coffee and get down to the station. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what all the fuss was about. The news was already filled with pictures of the crime scene, being filmed live as the coroner removed the body.
Erik had been the first detective on-scene, and so the entire cluster-fuck had landed squarely in his lap. It'd been half an hour since the body was discovered, but at least he had ID'ed the victim.
The picture in the folder was a mug shot, taken about 6 months a
In there, that foreign world,
only intelligence matters,
the funny person is king,
and thoughts are currency.
Where everyone is only as
informed as they choose,
and art is loved regardless
of who the artist loves.
Where the real world doesn't exist;
where people can be as happy
as they choose to be,
through a computer screen.
Even if our bodies fail,
and we slowly rot away,
leaving nothing but bones,
we can live forever.
Hello. This is the voice inside.
I return again, with one question:
Who are your demons?
Am I something you try to hide,
like the other skeletons
you keep secreted and locked away?
Or am I something you show,
and try to downplay, just like
everything else in your life?
No wonder you got demons,
because everything you ever did
will be coming back around.
A heart made of stone,
left calloused and alone.
Watch as I tear it out,
and crush it beneath my heel.
If only the stars would align,
give me something to scream about,
while I take a knife and carve out
that thing most people call emotion.
Don't worry, it's not like I
really needed it anyway, that
dead and rotting thing inside
my brain like a form of cancer.
Sometimes, I forget exactly why
I want to destroy everything.
Then reality sets back in,
and I go back to what I used to be.
I set the glass back down,
My third, and refill it from
The bottle, memories
Filling my head, like
Little movies of you and me.
All the smiles that left,
Nothing but... I don't know...
I can't describe it, without
Being cliché. I can't convey
What I mean, without
Using words already common.
So, why even try? Why do
I even write this for you,
When I know you'll never
Get the chance to read it?
A fifth glass refills itself,
Though I know I can't drink.
Still, the silent films play,
The happy memories dance,
And I sit here, my pen in hand,
Writing silent, and sweet,
Nothings you'll never hear.
Upon realizing that this was ancient, I decided to create a new one.
Happy now?
Current Residence: Maine. Favorite genre of music: Dubstep. Favorite style of art: Manga. Operating System: Windows 7. Favorite cartoon character: Stewie from Family Guy. Personal Quote: "What's the point of even trying, when nothing's gonna happen?"
Favourite Movies
Akira.
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Shinedown, Breaking Benjamin, Coheed & Cambria, etc.
I'll be the first to admit that I have no reason to want a vacation. I don't really work (because the economy back home blows more donkey dick than a Mexican stripper), and I mostly sit around on my lazy ass and play video games.
I'm not too proud to admit that I am very lazy indeed.
Either way, I was dragged over 800 miles south to (mostly) sunny Greenville, NC, to help a family member move, and it's turned into a vacation along the way. I don't think I needed it, but it's nice to get out of the house every now and then. Especially when it gets me away from my roommates who I've dealt with for over a year straight. I needed time away from
Sorry about my absence, I've been suffering a writer's block for a while, and the words just aren't coming to me. I think I need liquid inspiration. Good thing we have vodka!
Either way, before I possibly get utterly shitfaced tonight, I should probably mention that my good friend <SlingBlade87 (https://www.deviantart.com/slingblade87) convinced me to throw my hat into the ring with this Tallenge thing. It's a giant talent contest where you just put up whatever it is you do, and you get voted on by other people. I decided to throw my poem about hospitals (Whispers, if anybody cares) into the ring, to see how it would go.
[Edit] The moment I hit "Submit," my roommate came home
I haven't been around for a while, but I notice that drinking has become a major theme in your writing since you turned 21. You should totally try some stream-of-consciousness writing. It would probably come out seriously twisted but I bet it would work well for you.