Arts + Entertainment
The central nexus for all things film, gaming, art, and music.
From Within
Just like the moon holds the stars in the night, I wish I could get on that flight. To somewhere far away, Is the place I wish to stay.
Demalia LynnPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHangover
While alcohol does not erase the problems that I have, it does invoke a fire to provide temporary warmth. I'm not talking about the physical warmth, but the warmth of numbness. The feeling of no longer feeling anything at all. The single thought that clouds all other thoughts. The warm escape from the screaming silence and emptiness inside you. In such sense you rather harm the body over your mind. You starve for free booze to get numb. To get so numb that that pop song you hate is pouring out your mouth. So numb where the person you hate is your closest friend. Because what you really hate is you. And if the mind is vacant and numb there is nothing to hate and no one to be hating. The induced disconnection is more comforting than the familiar disassociation. The momentary circle of drinking buddies is more important than the family you grew up to know as mere acquaintances. And the warmth keeps reminding you of the camping trip you took as a kid.
Thoughts on Snow
Snow wipes the slate clean. My mother used to say it fell upon you like angel kisses, each one forgiving you of something.
Fierce SisterPublished 7 years ago in PoetsJust Do It
Wrap your hand around my throat. Whisper those words in my ear. Let me hear what you’re going to do. Or don’t. Do your worst.
Ellen WhitePublished 7 years ago in PoetsSober and Drunken Memories
I remember waking up To mother's screams and cries. I creeped out into the hallway Your drunken hand was raised ready to swing again.
Mikaela WoodPublished 7 years ago in PoetsIn to the Pit
I have attended various concerts over a number of years, from pubs with 30 people through to festivals with over 100,000. Where I want to be and usually get to be is at the very, very front. Often described as the pit, this especially applies to the heavy metal, thrash metal gigs I attend. As I get older and more fragile I have to consider what I do a bit more so here is my survival guide.
ASHLEY SMITHPublished 7 years ago in BeatChasing the Next High
Stephen King is your uncle. He lives near a pet cemetery. June bugs burrow into your long dishwater blonde hair. A Shirley Temple Doll haunts your closet.
Amanda ZylstraPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe World Is a Cruel Place
Its been surrounding us all our lives, but we've always looked away. From the first day you were born it's been around us.
Oliver Hardin.Published 7 years ago in Poets