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Rose Trees Never Grow In New York City                                             'All I want is for someone to help me'
                                                                                    - Aloe Blacc.
                 'Think twice, 'cause it's another day for you and me in paradise'
                                                                                    - Phil Collins.

Times Square subway station. 8.56am. Rush hour. Hundreds of commuters are making their stressful journeys to work, power walking through the station and jostling each other to get onto their various trains. Streams of people pass through the station like swarms of bees, like wilde
Her Song.She holds on to your memory.
Keeps your picture near at all times.
Her locket.
Her bedside.
Her piano.
Dark curls and green eyes.
Perfect white teeth.
A sharp chin.
Her lover.
Arched eyebrows.
When she sits down at the keyboard to play;
She'll hear the words in her ears:
The sound of love.
'I love it when you smile..'
Her fingertips grace the keys, black and white.
Turning pink and red.
'You ARE beautiful'.
The sound of countless sunsets fills the dusty room.
Your arm flits around her shoulders, it is but a memory.
Just a memory.
You are a ghost that listens to her talk to herself.
You are the air against her lips.
You're nothing but a memory
BraveryBravery, some people say, isn't a thing that a lot of people have, and cowardice is what most of the population of this world thrive upon. Unfortunately, many people agree with this theory, which is just as disappointing as it is stupid and ignorant. Now who ever decided upon this opinion, I would like to wring your neck and leave you out in the sun to shrivel up and die - but that would take a whole lot of bravery, and according to you, bravery isn't something I have, is it? I think, if you decided that everyone else around you lacks all the bravery that you have then I think that really, it is you who is the coward. Because only a coward wo
Song of The Black ButterfliesThe young man leaned against the stone pillars of the large balcony, decorated with flowers of all colors and sizes, neatly placed between the large veins, which wrapped around the entire wall of the mansion.
As dusk gave way to the early darkness of the night, he proceeded to turn off, the otherwise brightly glowing torches placed along the long wall.
Allowing the light which breathed life into the balcony to slip away, with the exception of the study door, which he had purposefully left open.
Through it, a dim light managed to pierce the vast darkness, just barely making a presence, almost like a falling drop of water in the vast sea.
The m
The Real MonsterThis is it.
This power....
This is the power to change the world.
In my hands....
In
MY
hands.

Only
MY
hands.

I can do it.
I can change the world.
I can bring peace.
I can bring prosperity.
I can help people.
I can save lives.
I can do it.
I have the power.
This power, resting within me.

However, progress requires sacrifice.
People may die.
People will die.
Does that make it my fault?
I, who only wanted to make things better?
Why am I the one to blame?
People die every day; deaths completely unrelated to the actions of any one person.
Why, then, do you insist on opposing me?
What have I ever done to you?
All I want is to bring change.
I ca
absentforever searching,
absent minded,
always alone.
Imagine A Hill And A ManYou see a man, probably in his late twenties. He's standing on a tall hill. More specifically, a precipice.

What's he doing up there?

This man was married. Emphasis on was.
His wife died weeks earlier, and he was in a deep hole that he could barely climb out of if he tried.

His thoughts lingers on her as he stood on that hill, a slight breeze blowing through his hair. He thinks he has nothing else to live for and he thinks of all of the things he's accomplished. And of how selfish he's been lately, and even throughout his life. He thinks of how he neglected some of his friends, and in some cases, completely abandoned them. The only things
Judgement (short story)Sally was a happy girl. Friendly, helpful, someone people enjoyed being around. Sally grew up in a family that liked Orange juice. Everyone in her family liked Orange juice. Sally also had some close friends who enjoyed Orange juice.

One day Sally met another girl who she became fast friends with. Sally eventually found out that this girl did not like Orange juice, but preferred Apple juice. Sally questioned her one day, asking her why she didn't like Orange juice. The girl simply replied "I don't hate Orange juice, I just prefer Apple juice."

The girls response confused Sally, as Sally couldn't see how Apple juice could be better than Oran
Parable.Imagine.
Since you can remember, you have always been told what to do. Every second of every day in every month in every orbit of the sun.
For 16 years you have grown up with this. It's the only thing you know.
Then suddenly, the voices that tell you what to do, just go.
Just dissolve into nothing.
So you don't get out of bed. What's the point?
No one told you to.
You don't eat.
No one told you to.
You don't think.
No one told you to.
Then out of no where you have a thought of your own.
It's not particularly pleasant. Nor is it not pleasant. It's a thought.  
'why haven't I been told to do anything?'
No you must not think for your self. Th
Imagine A Girl In WhiteImagine a girl standing in the middle of nothing.
Complete and utter nothingness.

There is no black; there is no white. No up; no down. Not even a left or right. All there is is nothing.

Now, this girl. She's not that tall -- maybe around 5'5" -- and has black hair overflowing down her shoulders. She wore a white dress, nothing special. But something anyone would notice right away would be that she was missing something. Right from the moment they would say hello, they would notice.

What do you think it is?

Oh, it's a voice. But rather, the lack of a voice.

She is mute. Or in shock. Or however you want to think of it. The important thing
You're doing it wrong.I sat alone for hours before I saw her. Rising slowly next to me, the truth appeared.
First I helped her shaking off the remnants of tiny lies which remained attached to her body.
-You’re doing something wrong. - She then said in a soft and brittle voice.
Truest of the truths. Naked and raw. Lost and still hiding. I pulled her by her fragile and delicate hand. Sad body consumed by the monsters created by the ones to whom I’d spoken. But, unavoidably, she started slipping away once more.
The poor little thing clung to my arm contracting her week muscles. She tried and tried and tried.
I knew she would fall and disappear before my
Teen Titans Go! Canonically Incorrect?Teen Titans Go! – Canonically Incorrect?

(This entry is not an attempt to enlighten anyone to current events. People might have already come across what I’m talking about. But in case some people have not, on with the entry!)

*THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS VERY, VERY MILD, BARELY PREVALENT LANGUAGE.*

Well Teen Titans fans, the new cartoon series for the Titans, Teen Titans Go!, has been on the air for four weeks now. I don’t know about most of you guys, but I personally find this show quite entertaining! I had my doubts in the beginning; I was really worried that the show was going to bomb, not really because of the design the s
FantasyThere was never
glory in this
L'enfant roiL’enfant roi

  On voit un petit garçon. Il est en pyjama avec ses parents dans le salon. Plusieurs lampes éclairent la pièce. La télé est allumée. Derrière, à droite du poste télé, il y a une fenêtre, par laquelle on aperçoit la nuit, et les quelques lampadaires qui tentent de la faire disparaître. Le garçon embrasse sa mère en lui souhaitant une bonne nuit, pendant que son père se lève et lui prend la main. Ils sortent de la pièce. La mère reste sur le canapé, seule, à regarder l’&eacu
My eternal voyage  I am passing beside people in big cities, little villages, on mountains. I am stepping between nomads, chiefs, tribes... They are not noticing me as a physical phenomenon, as blood and flesh. At least not everybody does. Someone just senses me.
 I am passing, and, as a skilled hunter, I am looking for the right victim, looking for somebody I can snuggle up to, in whom I can be absorbed with whole of my existence. I am never alone, because there is ALWAYS someone whose subconsciousness invites me in like a tired traveler in need for a long, long rest. I settle inside them, live beside them until I get rested, until I become boring to them,
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September 16, 2012
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A story of a lone red wolf confronting things grander than himself. Philosophical images.
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