My heart; it pitches a tiny blank pace,
Everyday I don't wake up to see your bright face.
Please my beloved, for if you leave home
My heart beats it out like a sad metronome.
The Wedding SpeechYou should know, I had a dream of giving you a speech on your wedding.
It was white and glittery. A little like a white Christmas but without the noise. It was diamonds and satin and white flowers. A June wedding.
Your man was dashing. He was in a white suit, if I can remember.
You were stunning, as you always have. You make your sweatshirts seem like wedding gowns, so surprise me if I found you absolutely beautiful in the real thing.
A microphone was handed to me and I had a card up. I was never good with speeches.
I've always wondered why we were friends. As if fire and water were to meet long enough to make something of themselves before they douse or evaporate, but they never seem to create something; only a sight to reckon with. You were brash and outgoing and adventurous; I was selective and cautious and unnerving.
We've never had time together. We were always on the other side of campus, like the weights of a turntable that never seem to meet, just to keep the balance
Never Finish Last Chap6
Fenny sinks her elbows down on the lavatory. She scoops up the water running from the tap and splashes it to her face. Like Tressif from the apartment doldrums and Gunnels back at the locker room, Fenny copes with the player switch of Roo Island and Brightvale with an empty frustration. Gordo was always there for her, even after the final buzzer. Now, he simply wouldn't. He would be sitting on a different bench on a different locker room mingling with different players on a different team. He is on a different land now, and there is nothing she can do but see him on the opposite side of the field. I guess it takes some time for it to sink in, doesn't it? Fenny asks herself.
She reaches for a clean towel on the restroom counter and pats herself dry. When she lowers her towel, she gets startled by her own reflection. Having realized that it was only just her reflection, she takes a little chuckle in the bathroom. Surprise! I'm ugly!
Never Finish Last Chap5
After practice, as a token of gratitude, "Squeaky" Tressif offers the team (including the manager) a night out for dinner. They deliberate for Shenkuu cuisine (Shenkuusine by some,) and find the perfect niche on the boardwalk of Blumaria.
The restaurant, the Paper Lantern, has been in business for a small number of decades, and is run by an equally small Shenkuuvian clan settled quietly in the borders of Roo Island. It's had its fair share of slow nights, but tonight, it's going to be the talk of the town when Team Roo Island enters its doors.
At least, it would be, if the team trudged in through the door in full uniform signing autographs for aspiring Neopets. But that draws too much attention. One call from the likes of the Times and they'll have to exit through the kitchen doors. Exiting through anybody's kitchen doors is always a bad thing. As a manager, Keila Varoix is always prepared for situations like this.
King of Unrequited LoveHe sat there by the bed on my apartment window, intently typing out the little thoughts his scatter-brain could not catch by the flitting minute. He was wrapped with the coats and scarves of a million scavengers by the cold window frost. He tapped out his keyboard with the gentle sound like rain that spread throughout my room as I lounged staring at the ceiling. The night was just about to begin with dusk plastered behind the city silhouette outside. He left to buy some coffee, since the last batch brewed had emptied from my pot, and he left with one last warning, pointing at his laptop:
"Do not read it."
As the curious little caterpillar that I am, as soon as the latches of the downstairs door and the stone steps of my building sloshed with his iron-toed boots, I shed my blue blanket into the broken oak floor and trudged towards the screen. It reflected the crystal lights the frost on my window had gathered, and the white starked throughout that little corner of my room. I sat up, str
Never Finish Last Chap4
The sun blazes on the local sports arena. It is much, much smaller than the grand behemoth sitting in Altadorthe land, after all, invented the sportbut the small stadium feels right at home with its bright colors and its open field. Rumor says it has the largest concession stand in the whole of Neopia. Go figure.
On the rubberized oval surrounding the Yooyuball field the team circles it at different intervals. Fenny, the first to lay her tracks on the gravel, keeps at her pace, straightforward and vigilant, avoiding any company. High above is Clutch, hovering over the arena. He strengthens his greatest assets, his wings, by bringing the heavy duty wing guards and strapping them on for his usual jogs. His wings need to block the hardiest passes and scoring shots, so they need every chance of exercise they can get. Trailing behind is Lilo and Jair. Besides other things, being the center and right forwards they talk strategy almost constantly.
Never Finish Last Chap3
The clasping of gear echoes through the empty halls of the local stadium. They come from the locker room, which is occupied by the Neopets who make the Rooligans on the bleachers scream with fury; who make their temples pulse with dedication and adrenaline. This is their first time playing since the championshipsor rather, for the second bracket. The team, since the very start, fights promisingly; shocking even (and that's just the uniforms). The Rooligans bagged the fourth place trophy on the very first Cup and it was going up from there. By the third Cup, the ramshackle team of misfits from the small island won first place. But as the trend goes, the winners were knocked out of their pedestals and placed in the shoes of the jesters. They were pushed as far as ninth place on the fourth Cup. Rooligans everywhere were devastated.
But like a tireless factory worker on the surface of Kreludor, the muck did not stop them from defying gravity. The team wo
Never Finish Last Chap2
Roo Island draws crowds of various melting pots for different reasons. For once, the subjects of a kingdom enjoy having a king. King Roo governs the island with a "jelly fist" making his everydays legendary. One might think: if everyday's a jolly holiday in Roo Island, then no day is a holiday in Roo Island. But in the sheer prospect of merrymaking, Roo Islanders, or, as what they colloquially call themselves, Rooligans, make it happen.
Perhaps the wow factor is the fact that the entire island is a proud amusement park. Exclusively why it's a summer getaway (or any other sort of seasonal getaway) is because of the carnival appeal. Roo Island boasts of housing the Games Room (thanks in part to the overhaul from the bug invasion earlier this year), the Merry Go Round and the Art District: hot spots for creativity and fun.
What perchance a most well-known landmark in Roo Island is its grand boardwalk, located in the port city of the kingdom, Blumaria. It wraps around the island's bay for
Never Finish Last Chap1
Sunlight slats across the room as morning peeps its righteous head. In a bed by the corner a huddle of blankets bunch up, enveloping a mass of fatigued musclesonce agile and steady, now a dormant volcano. The Lupe rolls over his entangled blankets, only to have his sleep disturbed by one of the sunlit stripes that zoom across the room, aligning itself with one of his eyes. He squints and casts the covers over his head. He is not accustomed to early morningnot after he started his two week vacation, anyway. His groans, slight and deep-throated, echo under his blanket hideout. He does not want the morning to start.
Tough luck, then, to have a manager like Keila Varoix. The veracious Blumaroo comes over at least once a day, usually just after the sun comes up, with an attitude that can cut through the hardiest player. Thing is, she wants his morning to start. It gives her the thrill to make his morning start. If any odd job, good habit or tiny exe
Dear Weasel23 Milkweed Avenue
Pritchett, British Columbia
December 15, 2009
I would like to tell you that you've won, fair and square.
Well, not really.
I mean, in terms of what had happened over these past few months, I believe you have earned yourself a gold star. Or even a trophy for what you've achieved. Not that I'm writing in constant loathing, or anything, (and who has ever mentioned horrible things like that, anyway?) but I am writing you a letter of congratulations.
And you ask, yourself, Olivia: why is this pathetic bloke snail-mailing me a glorious congratulations letter?
That is a good question.
RainYou stand here in
this somber place,
the rain pelting
your sorrowed face
I think about
how you do feign,
as your salty tears
mix with the rain
And as your lips do drip
with bitter sorrow,
I yearn for you
a better tomorrow
SpiritIt's more than a craving; it's more than a need.
It's the spirit inside, waiting to be freed.
It's the words on a page; it's the notes in a song.
Paint on a brush, and waiting all day long
For the perfect lighting, the look that's just right,
Whether it's first in the morning, or up all night.
It's the beat of the artist, the things that we feel,
And the tools that we use to make the ideas real.
A laptop or pen, paper or pliers
Whatever it is, it lights our fires,
Makes us burn with pride, keeps imagination alive,
So we can say 'we are the artists and we have arrived.'
ShipI missed you today
I regretfully say,
My feelings are tides
moving every which way
The image of you
shall be washed apart,
As the shore and the ocean
do gently depart
And the way that my feet
left prints on the sand,
Is the way that I felt
when you held my hand
But it's time to move on,
this ship's found new land,
The anchor is sunk,
and I will withstand
Dear SantaDear Santa can you fix it for me
To live a day of my life pain free
Where bullies won't rip off my shirt
And, just for once, the bruises don't hurt
Can you please make it that for this one night
My parents get through it without a bad fight
Or that I have an hour without the growing fear
That in the morning I won't be here
Maybe if I am good today
I won't be beaten for being gay
And that I might not have to grieve
Over a friend killed for what they believe
Please don't make it another night on my own
All the rest of this year I have been so alone
Everyone I loved has gone and I'm tired and old
No money for the heating, the house is so cold
Let me find a nice place in which to stay
I'm not fussy; just a nice alley or friendly doorway
Santa what I would give for a crust of fresh bread
Or one night spent safe in a fluffy soft bed
Bring back my daughter, I need her alive
Go tell her killer not to drink and then drive
Tell my mom I love her and give her a hug
Let her know I'm sorry for over
Your Body Cried CrimsonYour Body Cried Crimson
Behind the pretty words hides a mouth of razor fangs
Quite frankly, I'm completely deranged.
So few know what lurks in my mind
What nightmare places exist for you to find.
At times I picture kissing your lips
All the while my knife slips
Into your innards and rips
Away your trust.
Stacked behind the allure of my pale eyes
Are rows and rows of myself in disguise.
The masks I wear to convince you that you're safe
Alone, you realize you're the victim I've raped.
I took away your innermost emotions
And placed them within the hands of my devotion.
Now you're trapped in my toxic web
I swallow you and you sink like lead
To the bottom of my heart.
The way I love is violent at best.
For instance, I'd like to tear your heart from your chest
And drink away the nectar of your affection.
Your body, subject to my dissection.
In this game, only I will win.
My tongue is dripping your blood and sin,
Drop by drop it sprays away
And from you, your life I take