BYOC (Bring Your Own Coffee) - Now With More Coffee!

[Sunbather]

I just tried really hard doing something and I'm sorry if it's bad but yeah, I just needed to like get over it and finish it.


Made up faces, sequined dresses


Stained beyond the flesh's surface


Our shoulders long void of little angels


To witness won't repel us, though it should


Morals smolder under heels that could


Belong to queens, now waiting tables


Please


Stalling, slurring, barely caring


Sprawl across the loveless bedding


More than fabric has been tearing when the old


And tired men decide to beckon the controlled


Who's sole own noise is just a


No


What's done is done, now hides inside the nooks and crannies


Stripped of home, the thoughts defiled


But free they are,at last, to roam


Bruised they gather in the neon light


Let it pour, the glasses fill


Designed to hide the guilt and


somehow bridge our lack of will


A sunken crown, sadly on the floor


The owner dead, reduced to but a common...


Soley asked to give it all, and then give even


More

 

[Poe]

I meant to throw this up here too. Just a teacher's lounge napkin scribble. Super like, idk. Dark maybe? Feel free to skip.

Spoiler

I will lose my mother twice.


It will be any day now.


The whole of a life lost between muttered


words, shaky lips, a tongue too quick it


gets in the way – she was aways like that, I think.


I found yearbooks, postcards, old photographs


where the bridge of her nose builds my eyes


and the curve of her lips spreads across


all fifty years like she can remember what


has been and what will always be. –


But I can’t remember the sound of her voice


without the guttural push or the fluctuation.


She yells and I wonder if she’s worried she can't


be heard or that we’ve all turned and gone away.


“Mom” I call her before I go, leaving my apartment


for pedicures with his mother, the only woman my children


will ever be able to see and call grandmother.


I’ve lived a decade without her,


I only hope that I can do it again.

 

[Jays]

It lives


IT LIVES

 

[Unknown1]

Dear readers, enjoy this random short story called "Contaminent"

Spoilers

AUTHORS THOUGHTS


I have written this and came up with the idea in a short amount of time, so I do apologize if it does not feel full, Yeah, I do feel a bit insecure about this now that i'm typing it, but whatever enjoy!


I would like to hear your constructive criticism but keep in mind if you do criticize please do not bother with the grammar. And yes, towards the last half I did rush. I see that it could have way more substance anyway, sorry >.< yee

"When we look around us, in this world of our own, the sky is always so bright, so cheerful. Until the white moon comes over the sky with a blanket of darkness, to ease our minds to peace of rest from our hard labors. In this very world these are the things we know to be true, the tangible objects we can touch and know will be with us tomorrow. For many humans do not like the thought of change, fearing it with passion. It is something that interferes with this small delicate knowledge of life. Knowledge that your thoughts before you go to sleep will be with you through the night, the memorys from that day will stay with you. That the events of all life are truth that cannot be touched.


We can touch what we see and smell what is around us, but what if something, where to interfere. What do you do when something beyond your reasoning, from another world comes to invade this space? To turn back the tables of time, and all knowledge? Change everything you know into something that does not exist, that never existed. Contaminate. Enter into your mother, your sisters brain, as if you where taken to another dimension. The ones around you you no longer recognize? The world, that had gone so....so wrong... *a wet spot falls onto the paper and hides the next few streaks of ink*... so.... Alone."

Spoiler- Contanament

The boys tears fell onto the paper that laid on his desk, his hand quivered, his hair was over his face as he was leaned over his work. He knew nothing could ever be the same, that either everyone in the world had changed or he truly never existed. That his memorys where all fake, but he knew that could not be possible. His head shook as he sniffed his nose and raised his arm to wipe the soft tears that fell down his cheeks. I am a man, he would think, yet somehow the realization that he may not exist, or that no one around him truly exist was enough to make even the toughest of men breakdown uncontrollably. The man was not even a man, merely a boy of fifteen, who could expect such toughness to bear such weights from a boy?


When he woke up this morning, he was called by a name that was not his own. His mother and sister suddenly where completely different, the way they where as well as their names. His mother was no longer the women he admired and feared, as no longer she spoke in seriousness but instead with a great tone of cheeriness, fake love heightened in her new tone. And not to mention the change of his sister, oh from the most vibrant and charismatic sister who adored her older and secluded brother to to aloof and in complete silence. Now he had seen her conspiring with his "mother" a scene he had never seen before. Earlier though, he had taken this as a sign for them conspiring against him, that had to be the only reason for this right? They planned this together and where working against him!


Soon after something prevented him from believing in this. When he went to look out his window for fresh air the sun, the sky, everything was different. It smelled a strange citris scent, the sky was purple, he searched the street to look at the familiar houses but it appeared as if some had just poofed into thin air. "Ahaha, they even went as far as to tint my window," he thought to himself as he unlatched the lock on the window and pushed the glass open.The boy froze, stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. His hands and knees began to tremble, slowly the boy backed away unable to believe the truth of it all. What was happening? Was it a dream? He fell back on to his bed. "no, I can feel this, it feels completely real, its not a dream. Impossible, I need to find out what is happening. My mom, my sister, are they even them?" his body became extremely heavy, he did not want to get up from bed.


After a few hours


"I am me, but who else is them?" the boy thought, jumping out of bed with sudden resolution, he would question his sister and mother!


"Mom! Sister!" he came bursting down the stairs, to see the zombielike duo in the kitchen. Their walk was similar, almost creepy. Neither responded.


"Can you tell me about our past? Our adventures? Didn't we go to turners falls last week!" he began, his mothers head turned to him in a dolllike fashion, her smile appeared so quickly, it gave a creepy chill down his spine. Finally she opened her mouth to respond, she reminded him of a robot.


"Well, darling dearest, you remember it all wrong! We did not go to turners falls, we went to sirens creek, with Sheryl, betty and tom," her ton so high pitched it was almost frightening.


doesn't she hate those people? They abused herfriendship and used her.


"Oh, yeah, THATS RIGHT" he choked on the last part.


The conversation went on fruitless, however his mother and sibling did mention something of a king, a ruler of their land. This is America, there where no kings. The more he spoke to them the less he was able to keep up his face, and the more he began to believe their tales. That perhaps this is the way it has always been, that his world was not contaminated, but he himself was possessed. When he asked if he could go outside something strange happened, his mothers voice changed to something hoarse as she yelled no! Either now, he concluded, she was some sort of alien, or he really was not who he thought he was. She became frightening, as if remembering to check herself, she turned to him with that false look of her and that fake smile and told him in that annoying sweet tone to go to his room and to stop talking nonsense.This deep seated fright stayed in his heart as He left them quickly running back to his room without further delay. After long contemplation he began writing, writing, writing.


Finally, with heavy feeling he ended his letter, unable to continue. His tears came out now, as he knew what he would have to do, his home would likely become hell, but he knew for certain in that moment. He was him, and he missed his real family and had to rescue them. The world, somehow or another, the tears will fall now, he will let them out while he still can. And fight tomorrow.

 

[Sunbather]

I did a thing. It's a little different to my usual things, I feel, but maybe I'm dead wrong. Anyways, here it is. It's not very refined. I just wrote it and pretty much took the first take, so to speak. It felt really appropriate doing it that way, but I don't wanna run away from criticism with that defense at all. Lay it down.


It's such a wonderful day


Watch the tree's shade dance on the fences


Reading lines from my daughter's first play, thinking


Joy really isn't so expensive


I have a blessed life


I miss dad taking me to the river


We'd fish for vigorous flashes of silver and


Then go home to mom playing with my sister


She oughta visit us sometimes


I have a great family


I do get to teach my own kids now


I couldn't feel more pride if I tried to, really


They learn and succeed and so fast they grow


From the cradle to the school, off to college they go


I have wonderful children


I used to worry about life and its hardships


On the porch in our garden I feel secure


Obsctacles come and we learn to laugh regardless


'Cause we know there's nothing that we can't endure


I have strong protectors


The sun still shines, and reflects in the thin film


Of grease that has gathered on the plaque


Its gold and it's small, like the box that it's on


And it reads "What we wanted for you"


I've only had 14 days on this earth.

 

[Hercynia]

Remnants of a letter found from one of the survivors after The Created's Attacks on Cheluynl, Capital of Oceysil, Primary Planet #8 of the Nirocri Empire. Letter reads as follows:

CONFIDENTIAL


SECURITY LEVEL SILVA-IHJYN
​

They called it "The Beautiful Plague". All very secret, of course, they didn't want The High Council hearing how their words, their propaganda, had been twisted. If you were talking to anybody influential, they were "The Broken". But they had been described as a plague, a disease, an infection. So, of course, somebody pointed out the irony of a plague making something as beautiful as what they had. He was executed three days later, but it was too late. So now the streets call them "The Beautiful Plague", often with a glance over their backs at the edifices of wealth protruding from the archipelago of rooftops, tips far, far above the endless smog that drifted across the sky like a layer of gaseous grease. And, for all the irony, The Beautiful Plague was a fitting name for them. Because they were beautiful. What they created was beautiful. But there was no denying that they were a shattered relic of a time when the leaders had hoped for colonization and expansion before retreating above the constant chaos of the world below their gilded towers. The whole incident would have been glossed over, had it not been for The Bea- The Broken attacking manufacturing facilities, remote mining facilities, slowly shutting down our economical base. Soldiers had been dispatched. There was no response after they'd jumped. Perhaps they'd been taken prisoner. Perhaps they'd just been slaughtered mercilessly. If you talked to anybody wielding the slightest piece of power then The Broken needed to be destroyed. If you talked to anybody on the streets, not everybody was so sure.


After all, The Created were our own creations. Perhaps they were also our angels of judgement.

 

[Aur0ra]

I kinda miss this