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Subliminal Mind War

Author: ViCiOuSWrItEr
ASL Info:    18/Female/Desolate
Elite Ratio:    3.97 - 890 /865 /108
Words: 414
Class/Type: Random Thoughts /Misc
Total Views: 1696
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 2203


this is a short story I was made to write for english... I hate being made to write, but let me know what you all think... its about what I daydream about during English, maybe she wont make me do this if I didn't daydream all the damn time, lmao... let me know!

Subliminal Mind War

Poison coated candies and tropical toxicity: poetic demons and razor-sharp rose petals, kiss the cerebral fluids sending shocks shakes to my brain. Daydreaming = lacking lucidity, everything speeds through my mind and quakes the nerves buried underneath torn flesh. “I wonder how long it is before the end of the Earth?” Will I be awake or asleep, and will it hurt? Nuclear love melts to nothing and acid tears that visine wont wash away. A force will tear me apart one day, and steal away what I’ve stolen and made. “Oh look, it’s Miss Popularity, will her goldy locks ever fall out?” One day, I’ll be visible, one moment in time I will be beautiful, and forsake them all. Cinnamon death tastes bitter, but a teaspoon of sugar ought to sweeten morbid thoughts, perhaps a side of blood for dipping my demise. Fallen angels glaze the ground and try consistently to feel their frost bitten toes. My wings are broken and the iridescent disguise has simply corrupted. “Why is it I that stings with pain?” Degraded by destitution, my world is next to nothing in reality. I fancy my surreality, where snow is but the flesh of my God and icicles are his stitches from being cut and beaten. “Hmmm.... the star quarterback gets away with hell again today, the masters don’t care, am I suppose to be surprised?” Puppets and dolls inhabit this place, I cry still, knowing I’m the only one with face. Disintegrating souls wither alone and I reside above all on my dragon’s blood throne. Overpopulated, this planet is, and here I stand innocently, trapped in my moonstone. The crystal ball’s forecast for today is sunny, but I still remain in the shadow with plenty of rain and torment to digest. At the end of every rainbow there’s a pot of mold, and at the end of every human there’s a mess of scattered and dull fool’s gold. Today I suffocate to keep my name, and tomorrow I will show you you all are the same. I doubt anyone is listening, that is why I choose not to speak. My head is my haven, my head is your hell, your prison, your cell... This is the part where I snap back to what’s real, and have a rough trip back where I can feel, damn bell.

Submitted on 2004-10-05 10:59:52     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  youve got some hell talent... im completely in awe... sounded like a bad trip or an insight into the mind of someone in a loony bin but then... english class almost pass for both of those...
your imagery is superb and the subtle rhymes are awesome.
your line about the end of the earth got me thinking about Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy and how the dude is thinking about the end of the world and all he can ask himself is "i wonder if it'll be a monday..." haha... but yeah... this is an impressive write... id love to have seen your teachers reaction to this one!
| Posted on 2004-11-20 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ]
  This sounded like a bad acid trip. I really liked the poem. "Acid tears", eh? Sounds like a good band name to me. Glad to see you writting again. Later

| Posted on 2004-10-06 00:00:00 | by Semper Fidelis | [ Reply to This ]
  damn this is cool. i like it alot. very interesting. kinda weird though. i like it won't your goldy locks ever fall out. that was great. there was something that bothered me but i done fergot what it was. i like the ending. damn bell. hehe let me go read it again
I liked my head is my haven but is that supposed to be haven or should it be heaven?
| Posted on 2004-10-06 00:00:00 | by PryncessVynom | [ Reply to This ]
  this was hard to read due to the layout, and it does not seem like a short story. Oh...where to start? there were some lines that i LOVED(Cinnamon death tastes bitter, but a teaspoon of sugar ought to sweeten morbid thoughts) but overall the whole thing made me think of a gothic angsty teen. however, an intelligent, creative, angsty teen!
good work but i would change the layout.
| Posted on 2004-10-05 00:00:00 | by aliciaflower04 | [ Reply to This ]
  vicious writer is was a hard poem to read through and the harsh point of view was really startling.but then who am i to judge your was a fascinating read.good luck and fare well.
| Posted on 2004-10-05 00:00:00 | by sickly | [ Reply to This ]

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