LewisCarroll
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Written by Kimba

SHINE

And in her times of darkness,

she's content to feel the warmth

from the shine of others

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Written by Kimba
SHINE
And in her times of darkness,
she's content to feel the warmth
from the shine of others
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Written by LElise

The water crept up to meet my skin

Then retreated, away from me

I sat on the sheet of cool, soft sand

Hardened by years of this same dance

That I was now taking part in

Again the crystal swept under my legs

A cool blanket, coating my limbs

I wondered how the sand must feel

Tempted so by this sensation

Only to be abandoned again and again

I stood and wandered closer

The water nipped at my thighs 

I wondered how it would feel

When the ocean could not slip away

Because I'd decided I'd not let go 

And dance in its depths

Eternally.

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Written by LElise
The water crept up to meet my skin
Then retreated, away from me
I sat on the sheet of cool, soft sand
Hardened by years of this same dance
That I was now taking part in
Again the crystal swept under my legs
A cool blanket, coating my limbs
I wondered how the sand must feel
Tempted so by this sensation
Only to be abandoned again and again
I stood and wandered closer
The water nipped at my thighs 
I wondered how it would feel
When the ocean could not slip away
Because I'd decided I'd not let go 
And dance in its depths
Eternally.
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Written by bookwormgirl1

The Beginning 8/11

After a long day at work I finally sat down, curled up to a good book. I had only been sitting there for 5-10 minutes, however, when I heard a sound coming from the back of the house. Perplexed (I rarely have visitors- and never in the back), I set my book down on the coffee table, using a handy piece of scrap paper to mark my place.

I made my way to the back warily. The sound returned. Now a pounding on glass. This time it was accompanied by shouts. Once there, I saw Robby through the glass door. He was pounding with all his strength, using both fists. Tears streamed down his face. I couldn’t even imagine what was wrong.

I opened the door, ready to yell at him for interrupting my night. As soon as the door was wide enough, Robby shrieked and pushed his way into my house, knocking me down. “Dude!” I yelled angrily. “What gives?”

“Run!” Robby scrambled off of me. Upon closer inspection, I saw that Robby’s shirt was covered in dark blood. His green eyes were scared and wild- a look of desperation. His expensive jeans were ripped and his shoes were scuffed beyond repair.

My first thought was, ‘Wow. It must be pretty bad if Robby let anything mess up his clothes.’ On a normal day, he would kill anyone who so much as touched them.

That was before I realized just how bad it was.

Robby saw the open door and screeched. I swear. This grown man, my best friend, who I have never heard even yell at a haunted house, screeched like a five-year-old girl who had just dropped her ice cream cone on the sidewalk. No, more as if the ice cream cone had morphed into a demon.

He then leaped over me and grabbed the handle, yanking it closed. But before it could shut all the way, a hand shot out of the dark, gripping the edge. This time we both screamed. The hand was pale, spattered with thick blood and covered in thin cuts. It was missing the ring finger. There were bits of flesh stuck underneath the remaining four nails.

I scooted back away from the door. Horror clouded my vision, my brain trying to come up with ways this could be happening, other than the obvious answer. Zombies aren’t real. I repeated this phrase over and over to myself but could no longer believe it.

Finally, Robby succeeded in closing and locking the door. And then the face appeared. A grotesque, grinning horror of a face.

It was a man, that much was obvious. His lips were peeled back, revealing swollen gums and gore-speckled nubs. His hair had been torn out in clumps, leaving bald patches and angry red spots.

And his eyes.

Haunted, insane…hungry.

Hungrier than I have ever seen anyone in my life. A hunger that consumed. A hunger for…me.

This person-no, this thing- moaned. He moaned and my heart stopped. It was a groan of pure desire. Pure desire for food. For blood. For brains. For me and my friend.

Robby grabbed my arm, yanked me upright, and forced me out of the kitchen, towards the stairs. “Mandy come on. We have to hide.”

Before we left though, I saw the shuffling figures behind my glass. All of them getting closer and closer. Coming for me.

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Written by bookwormgirl1
The Beginning 8/11
After a long day at work I finally sat down, curled up to a good book. I had only been sitting there for 5-10 minutes, however, when I heard a sound coming from the back of the house. Perplexed (I rarely have visitors- and never in the back), I set my book down on the coffee table, using a handy piece of scrap paper to mark my place.


I made my way to the back warily. The sound returned. Now a pounding on glass. This time it was accompanied by shouts. Once there, I saw Robby through the glass door. He was pounding with all his strength, using both fists. Tears streamed down his face. I couldn’t even imagine what was wrong.


I opened the door, ready to yell at him for interrupting my night. As soon as the door was wide enough, Robby shrieked and pushed his way into my house, knocking me down. “Dude!” I yelled angrily. “What gives?”


“Run!” Robby scrambled off of me. Upon closer inspection, I saw that Robby’s shirt was covered in dark blood. His green eyes were scared and wild- a look of desperation. His expensive jeans were ripped and his shoes were scuffed beyond repair.


My first thought was, ‘Wow. It must be pretty bad if Robby let anything mess up his clothes.’ On a normal day, he would kill anyone who so much as touched them.


That was before I realized just how bad it was.


Robby saw the open door and screeched. I swear. This grown man, my best friend, who I have never heard even yell at a haunted house, screeched like a five-year-old girl who had just dropped her ice cream cone on the sidewalk. No, more as if the ice cream cone had morphed into a demon.


He then leaped over me and grabbed the handle, yanking it closed. But before it could shut all the way, a hand shot out of the dark, gripping the edge. This time we both screamed. The hand was pale, spattered with thick blood and covered in thin cuts. It was missing the ring finger. There were bits of flesh stuck underneath the remaining four nails.


I scooted back away from the door. Horror clouded my vision, my brain trying to come up with ways this could be happening, other than the obvious answer. Zombies aren’t real. I repeated this phrase over and over to myself but could no longer believe it.


Finally, Robby succeeded in closing and locking the door. And then the face appeared. A grotesque, grinning horror of a face.

It was a man, that much was obvious. His lips were peeled back, revealing swollen gums and gore-speckled nubs. His hair had been torn out in clumps, leaving bald patches and angry red spots.

And his eyes.


Haunted, insane…hungry.


Hungrier than I have ever seen anyone in my life. A hunger that consumed. A hunger for…me.


This person-no, this thing- moaned. He moaned and my heart stopped. It was a groan of pure desire. Pure desire for food. For blood. For brains. For me and my friend.


Robby grabbed my arm, yanked me upright, and forced me out of the kitchen, towards the stairs. “Mandy come on. We have to hide.”


Before we left though, I saw the shuffling figures behind my glass. All of them getting closer and closer. Coming for me.
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Written by xlachrymose in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Poetess .....

enchantress

drinking black coffee

wearing little black depress

frankincense essence

flowery incense

flowery language

fiery red velvet hair

violet lips

vigorous vehement

creamsicle fickle

sunshine turpentine

beatific ethic

ageless

timeless

black onyx night

malice spite

snow and ice

shadow and vice

pale pastel veil

pearl pearllike veins

droplets of rain

dripping drain

refrain

(K.M.M.)

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Written by xlachrymose in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Poetess .....
enchantress
drinking black coffee
wearing little black depress
frankincense essence
flowery incense
flowery language
fiery red velvet hair
violet lips
vigorous vehement
creamsicle fickle
sunshine turpentine
beatific ethic
ageless
timeless
black onyx night
malice spite
snow and ice
shadow and vice
pale pastel veil
pearl pearllike veins
droplets of rain
dripping drain
refrain
(K.M.M.)
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Prose Challenge of the Month #1: Write about losing your innocence. Fifteen entries will be featured in a Prose Original Book of the Month, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by EyesofArt

The Devil on my Back

This story doesn’t have a happy ending, at least not yet. So, I’m just going to tell you what you don’t want to know. What can I say? I am not here to entertain you or start a group for victims. I like to keep my issues drawn but occasionally the passage of time or a meaningful song crushes the barrier surrounding my soul and the truth leaks out.

A simple story of the past, not even just my own past that pushes the tears to the forefront of my eyes. So, I am here to relive my darkest moments and you are here to witness my fortress of solitude become nothing but rubble upon the earth. It’s time to open the gate to Hell and let the ghouls come out and play. Just keep in mind; it’s hard to dance with the Devil on your back.

*******************************************************************************************

I tried to leave the past behind me, swallowing every knife that would regurgitate itself;

When hearing her story of fighting the Devil that consumed her on a daily and nightly basis left me no choice but to face it.

After so many times of clawing at her coffin with darkness engulfing her, she tried to shake it off but she wasn’t strong enough, so she thought.

Here I am facing everyone but more importantly, I am facing the Devil. Her story is still going but happiness has never stayed with her throughout 50 years of her life. My story intertwines with hers and it’s only the beginning. Honestly, looking at her today, she is nothing like the woman I spent twenty-two years with. She is just a shell of a person.

Every demon wants its pound of flesh and for her, there is nothing left to take. And for me, I kept willingly giving my flesh to him after the fact. I just wanted it out of me; I carved at my own flesh because over the years I became numb, as did she.

Just shake him off…

It is never that simple, my darling. I’m always dragging that dead weight around and I am tired. She is tired, in fact, she wants to finally let go, but she doesn’t know how. She suffered mentally, emotionally, spiritually and most of all physically because of the Devil. He toyed with her, consumed her just because he can. He’s the Devil and he destroys your innocence first.

Then your mind, next is your body and finally, saving the best for last…your soul.

Her soul…

My soul…

So, shake it out…

“Will this ever end?” she asked to no one. This is happening to her and throughout the years it followed her, lingering and poisoning everything around her. She wants to know what love is like. Her own mother didn’t know how to show love to her unclean daughter. So, she retreated into herself, into physical “love” because that is all she was cursed with experiencing.

Her body was forced to abort a living soul, was she relieved or was she devastated? Only she knows that. I am not sure I can handle either answer.

Because she liked to keep her issues close to herself…

Every day she relives her darkest moments because of certain triggers:

Her Mother; if only she cared enough to protect her from the Demon that tortured her.

Her Sister; she is too close to the flame and denial was her firepower.

Her Body; scars that will never be visible to anyone but her.

It’s always darkest before the Dawn…

*************************************************************************************

Unfortunately, my story is parallel to hers…

And that is when the Devil rises and makes his presence known; Whispering in the thick of the night cooing in your ear, caressing your warm skin just because he can. He needs no permission to slowly destroy you from the inside out. His touch is poison seeping through your pores.

“Hush… little one.”

As I laid there staring up at the ceiling looking for Heaven but instead I found the Devil in me. And he stayed…

*************************************************************************************

I can never leave the past behind and neither could she. There is a dark karma that follows her throughout the rest of her life. Failed relationships, two little girls by two different men; she knew she’d never find love, peace and happiness if she keeps dragging that dead weight around. So, she fights…Fights for the wrong reasons with the wrong people. She fights men; blood, flesh and bruises that appear upon her body. Her soul continues to be tainted not because she’s angry, but because she’s not fighting for the right reasons. Fight for you soul, sweet child.

Shake it out…

*************************************************************************************

It’s always darkest before the Dawn. And he never fails to miss an unwanted appointment. I hate myself more than I hate him. I have let him devour my soul for 20 years because I believed I deserved it. NO MORE! No more self-pitying, no more blaming myself for attracting such darkness. I am done dragging that dead weight around, tonight I will bury that asshole in the ground!

Yes, it’s hard to dance with the Devil on my back but I am done with him, for good.

*************************************************************************************

She doesn’t see a way out of his grip; she’ll secretly blame herself for what happened to her daughters. Her daughters were more than victims; they were cursed with the same darkness the moment the Devil penetrated her body.

“I’ve been a fool and I have been blind,” she cried to herself. Deep down she knew she couldn’t leave the past behind. She did everything in her power to protect her little girls from the Devil. She fought like hell but he found them and he played with them.

“Face your fears, your anger, and your hurt, mom. I will face them with you, I promise. Because regrets collect like old friends, aren’t you tired? We have no more to give him. I don’t blame you, I never have. So please stop blaming yourself.

“I know it hard to dance with the Devil on your back so shake him off. It is time to bury the things that don’t matter anymore. The things that are holding you back. It may always be darkest before the dawn but there is always light after the dark.

Just shake it out, mom.

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Prose Challenge of the Month #1: Write about losing your innocence. Fifteen entries will be featured in a Prose Original Book of the Month, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Written by EyesofArt
The Devil on my Back
This story doesn’t have a happy ending, at least not yet. So, I’m just going to tell you what you don’t want to know. What can I say? I am not here to entertain you or start a group for victims. I like to keep my issues drawn but occasionally the passage of time or a meaningful song crushes the barrier surrounding my soul and the truth leaks out.

A simple story of the past, not even just my own past that pushes the tears to the forefront of my eyes. So, I am here to relive my darkest moments and you are here to witness my fortress of solitude become nothing but rubble upon the earth. It’s time to open the gate to Hell and let the ghouls come out and play. Just keep in mind; it’s hard to dance with the Devil on your back.


*******************************************************************************************


I tried to leave the past behind me, swallowing every knife that would regurgitate itself;
When hearing her story of fighting the Devil that consumed her on a daily and nightly basis left me no choice but to face it.
After so many times of clawing at her coffin with darkness engulfing her, she tried to shake it off but she wasn’t strong enough, so she thought.

Here I am facing everyone but more importantly, I am facing the Devil. Her story is still going but happiness has never stayed with her throughout 50 years of her life. My story intertwines with hers and it’s only the beginning. Honestly, looking at her today, she is nothing like the woman I spent twenty-two years with. She is just a shell of a person.

Every demon wants its pound of flesh and for her, there is nothing left to take. And for me, I kept willingly giving my flesh to him after the fact. I just wanted it out of me; I carved at my own flesh because over the years I became numb, as did she.

Just shake him off…


It is never that simple, my darling. I’m always dragging that dead weight around and I am tired. She is tired, in fact, she wants to finally let go, but she doesn’t know how. She suffered mentally, emotionally, spiritually and most of all physically because of the Devil. He toyed with her, consumed her just because he can. He’s the Devil and he destroys your innocence first.

Then your mind, next is your body and finally, saving the best for last…your soul.
Her soul…
My soul…

So, shake it out…

“Will this ever end?” she asked to no one. This is happening to her and throughout the years it followed her, lingering and poisoning everything around her. She wants to know what love is like. Her own mother didn’t know how to show love to her unclean daughter. So, she retreated into herself, into physical “love” because that is all she was cursed with experiencing.

Her body was forced to abort a living soul, was she relieved or was she devastated? Only she knows that. I am not sure I can handle either answer.

Because she liked to keep her issues close to herself…

Every day she relives her darkest moments because of certain triggers:

Her Mother; if only she cared enough to protect her from the Demon that tortured her.

Her Sister; she is too close to the flame and denial was her firepower.

Her Body; scars that will never be visible to anyone but her.

It’s always darkest before the Dawn…

*************************************************************************************

Unfortunately, my story is parallel to hers…

And that is when the Devil rises and makes his presence known; Whispering in the thick of the night cooing in your ear, caressing your warm skin just because he can. He needs no permission to slowly destroy you from the inside out. His touch is poison seeping through your pores.

“Hush… little one.”

As I laid there staring up at the ceiling looking for Heaven but instead I found the Devil in me. And he stayed…

*************************************************************************************

I can never leave the past behind and neither could she. There is a dark karma that follows her throughout the rest of her life. Failed relationships, two little girls by two different men; she knew she’d never find love, peace and happiness if she keeps dragging that dead weight around. So, she fights…Fights for the wrong reasons with the wrong people. She fights men; blood, flesh and bruises that appear upon her body. Her soul continues to be tainted not because she’s angry, but because she’s not fighting for the right reasons. Fight for you soul, sweet child.


Shake it out…

*************************************************************************************

It’s always darkest before the Dawn. And he never fails to miss an unwanted appointment. I hate myself more than I hate him. I have let him devour my soul for 20 years because I believed I deserved it. NO MORE! No more self-pitying, no more blaming myself for attracting such darkness. I am done dragging that dead weight around, tonight I will bury that asshole in the ground!
Yes, it’s hard to dance with the Devil on my back but I am done with him, for good.

*************************************************************************************

She doesn’t see a way out of his grip; she’ll secretly blame herself for what happened to her daughters. Her daughters were more than victims; they were cursed with the same darkness the moment the Devil penetrated her body.

“I’ve been a fool and I have been blind,” she cried to herself. Deep down she knew she couldn’t leave the past behind. She did everything in her power to protect her little girls from the Devil. She fought like hell but he found them and he played with them.

“Face your fears, your anger, and your hurt, mom. I will face them with you, I promise. Because regrets collect like old friends, aren’t you tired? We have no more to give him. I don’t blame you, I never have. So please stop blaming yourself.

“I know it hard to dance with the Devil on your back so shake him off. It is time to bury the things that don’t matter anymore. The things that are holding you back. It may always be darkest before the dawn but there is always light after the dark.

Just shake it out, mom.
#fiction  #nonfiction  #drama  #youngadult 
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Written by Stillwater in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Insatiate

Carved candle light

could not illuminate

the shadowed floor

of the well of my desire:

bottomless.

I am emptiness.

My hunger wants to pass you

and everything else

through the eye of my needle.

On the myth of sustained satisfaction:

Siddhartha says put aside your desire.

Mine is beside me,

a twin grown full form:

all arms clutching and legs leading

eyes rolling madly between all beautiful things.

I am a flytrap unfed, closing in on itself.

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Written by Stillwater in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Insatiate
Carved candle light

could not illuminate

the shadowed floor

of the well of my desire:

bottomless.

I am emptiness.

My hunger wants to pass you

and everything else

through the eye of my needle.

On the myth of sustained satisfaction:

Siddhartha says put aside your desire.

Mine is beside me,

a twin grown full form:

all arms clutching and legs leading

eyes rolling madly between all beautiful things.

I am a flytrap unfed, closing in on itself.

13
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Written by Elizabeth_Danon in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Baby Boy

Once upon a time rock music

Playing, memories hiding away.

I walked from you once before,

Love to you was only folk lore.

I got butterflies midday,

And by night I knew why.

Four long months passed by,

And there you were one last time.

"I miss you,"

A million dollar question.

Are you surprised I said

My final good bye?

The letter I left for you

On your car; I did cry.

Remember me forever,

Baby boy.

I'll never stop loving you.

But

I'll never stop walking away.

-Liz

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Written by Elizabeth_Danon in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Baby Boy
Once upon a time rock music
Playing, memories hiding away.
I walked from you once before,
Love to you was only folk lore.
I got butterflies midday,
And by night I knew why.
Four long months passed by,
And there you were one last time.
"I miss you,"
A million dollar question.
Are you surprised I said
My final good bye?
The letter I left for you
On your car; I did cry.
Remember me forever,
Baby boy.
I'll never stop loving you.
But
I'll never stop walking away.

-Liz
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Written by Montezino in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Seperation

You held me with empty arms

and worn out brain 

So I closed my eyes

and smelled the warmth

of your sweater 

Pretending 

You'd never let go

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Written by Montezino in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Seperation
You held me with empty arms
and worn out brain 
So I closed my eyes
and smelled the warmth
of your sweater 
Pretending 
You'd never let go
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Written by fighterwriter in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Machine

forget poetry

he said.

you're too clever

with words

but you're

useless

without me.

his fingers curled

like his lips.

he pretended to smile,

but she could already feel

the bruises

the copper taste on

her tongue.

her rib cage

tore,

but she dropped the book

and became

useful.

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Written by fighterwriter in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Machine
forget poetry
he said.
you're too clever
with words
but you're
useless
without me.

his fingers curled
like his lips.
he pretended to smile,
but she could already feel
the bruises
the copper taste on
her tongue.

her rib cage
tore,
but she dropped the book
and became
useful.
#fiction  #poetry  #abuse 
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Written by stvmbles in portal Poetry & Free Verse

fragile / fragments

we are dancers under the moonlight / our feet bleeding, our toes numb

we are missed opportunities and drunken mistakes / we are all lost

we are artists that paint bodies / our fingers trembling, our touch unsure

we are stilted conversations and violent fights / we are all hurt

we are beautiful in shattered mirrors / our cheeks sunken, our eyes hollow

we are faceless lovers and forgotten numbers / we are all adrift

we are consumers of modern culture / our voices unheard, our words ignored

we are cheap cigarettes and even cheaper booze / we

                                                                               are

                                                                                    all

                                                                                        broken //

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Written by stvmbles in portal Poetry & Free Verse
fragile / fragments
we are dancers under the moonlight / our feet bleeding, our toes numb
we are missed opportunities and drunken mistakes / we are all lost

we are artists that paint bodies / our fingers trembling, our touch unsure
we are stilted conversations and violent fights / we are all hurt

we are beautiful in shattered mirrors / our cheeks sunken, our eyes hollow
we are faceless lovers and forgotten numbers / we are all adrift

we are consumers of modern culture / our voices unheard, our words ignored
we are cheap cigarettes and even cheaper booze / we
                                                                               are
                                                                                    all
                                                                                        broken //

#poetry  #culture 
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