

Content It is a feeling of apprehension, a feeling of alienation,Content by ~mirrormaul
A feeling of disconnection from the mainstream,
Sometimes it feels like envy,
how the easy words are spoken without effort
Impulsive and random like the mockingbirds song.
But so often are they trivial, lifeless
Without wonder or grand speculation
Without touching the essence of reality.
I hope I don't lose touch
of appreciation for the simple.
As I drove home tonight
I watched the snow fall,
and felt a burning sphere of beauty
well up in my chest
and I felt so content.
I felt content, but,
Where is the one I should share this with?


Culture Cultures cross over and into each other like hobo stew.Culture by ~mirrormaul
Customs become estranged from their point of origination
becoming a mystery of repetition and faith.
pop-culture leads the way into the future
and will have many sacrifices made unto it.
Youth culture is spent frivolously
in myriad ways of self destruction.
Is it a crime that I shake my head, sigh
and pray for the best, prey on the best?
sometimes it seems as if we are chasing a dream
and living is just a by product there-of.
...and if we achieve that elusive stable routine,
do we long for the spontaneity that chaos can bring?
Within the most affluent countries
Our drive of


All of the "She's" She likes suspending from hooks,All of the "She's" by ~mirrormaul
bouldering and climbing,
She's an artist, a writer, a burner.
She likes arts and crafts, photography, diaries and spontaneity.
She's a renaissance literature professor, a purveyor of this odd time in literary history, an original goth girl as emotional as a schizophrenic cat.
She's a girl scout troop leader, she oversees the wellbeing
of hundreds of pre-teens, who composes well written letters
and is as cheerful as a sugared-up hummingbird.
She's an anthropological archaeologist, plays the fiddle in a mariachi band
and occasionally smashes a cake with her breasts that she bakes for a living.
She ha


Industry There's something here for meIndustry by ~mirrormaul
in this dirty, industrial city.
Where the infrastructure is falling apart
where the water mains break every other day
where steel mills and cold brick buildings
mix in with the sparce parcels
of undeveloped land
a glimpse of the ecosystem
that used to be gives a hint
of how it might've been
before every brick was laid
every rivet, riveted
every monolith erected
the sheer amount of toil
blistered feet and torn nails,
the weary muscles and tired, tired eyes.
These memories that are not mine remind me
that there's so much life invested
in something so destructive,
how perplexingly ironic...
In th

Never Date A Writer by xstephensNever Date a Writer
**disclaimer-- i didn't write this! i just found it and NEEDED to post it because of how true it is ! ENJOY!
Never date a writer because she'll fictionalize everything. She'll write about things you have done to her, or things you never did for her. She'll write about how you never bought her flowers. Not once. She'll say in well-constructed prose how the whole time you were together, she never came home from a long week to see a vase full of roses, or daises, or anything.
She'll describe times you embarrassed her, like at a party. It was her party because she was leaving for three months, and all her friends were there


What I Wish A rollercoaster of emotion racing through my brainWhat I Wish by ~shenhai
As the words come tumbling out of me; I'm in my place again.
There's nothing like this feeling as my pen flies down the page.
I'm ecstatic; so emphatic! I'm in sentimental rage.
It's been months since I've experienced a tumult such as this.
I've been grinning like a madman in my histrionic bliss.
All the letters blur together as the blank lines disappear,
And this raging wave of feeling has me reeling. I've no fear.
I can answer any question, I can sell the clearest lie.
I can put entire worlds into a crocodile's eye.
I can change a perfect psycho to a hero with a turn,
And make