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Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted

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(no subject) [Mar. 25th, 2006|02:28 am]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted

fate decided.
not you, not i,
time has never been
a friend...
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Hi. [Dec. 23rd, 2005|01:09 pm]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted


Guy and Fire


Guy is walking down the street. He feels a chill run up his spine. His upstairs neighbor fell asleep with a cigarette in her hand. Her apartment is on fire. Heat reaches down across the building, a cancer of brick and paint. Guy pulls his coat tighter around himself. His front window cracks and breaks under the weight of the fire. His dog starts barking. Upstairs, his neighbor chokes to death on the smoke, thinking lastly of her plants, which she forgot to water today. Guy quickens his step, toward his home. Sanctuary. Guy's dog is running like mad. Going nowhere. Bark bark. Guy is freezing now. Running now. Scared now. Somethings wrong. Bark Bark. Guy's dog dies thinking about escape. One of the few understandings humans and beasts share. Humans and beasts. There's a difference?

Guy hears the fire before he sees it. Right as he is about to turn the corner, he hears the crackle. Burning in stereo. Slowing down his step, fully aware everything he owned was dying, he turns the corner.

Guy thinks of marshmallows.

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My Hello. [Dec. 23rd, 2005|12:52 pm]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted


Suicide is a Killer


I’ve been thinking of suicide for quite a while. All the many ways to end a life. My life in this case. At first I was leaning towards hanging myself. But then I remembered that I lost my good belt. And since I’ve given up on solid foods, I’ve lost quite a bit of weight. As you could imagine, I wouldn’t want to hang myself, only to have my pants fall off, greeting the person who discovers my body with my lifeless limp genitals. And I certainly wasn’t about to go shopping for a new belt. The last time I was in my local clothing depot, I got into a rather heated argument that ended with me being escorted from the store, and my picture being hung up behind the register.


  After hanging, I found myself intrigued by the idea of slitting my wrists. What more relaxing way to kill yourself is there, than lying in a warm bath, with some blissful suicide music playing in the background (anything by Kenny G will do fine) and opening a vein? I went on for weeks toying with the idea, planning everything to the smallest detail. Finally came the day when I was ready. I moved the CD player into the bathroom started up my John Tesh CD (I couldn’t find any Kenny G at my local record shop. In fact the clerk behind the counter would only sell me the John Tesh CD under “major duress” ), turned on the warm water, and walked into the living room to get the brand new box of razors I picked up earlier that day. However much to my shock and dismay, I cut my finger open while opening the box too hastily. Blood was pouring all over everything from my newly injured index-finger and I started to get a little queasy from the sight of all of it. So I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I got dressed and drove to the hospital, holding my finger up in the air the whole way. I spent four hours in the ER talking to an old man who had a fork sticking out of his neck, got 12 stitches and went home. I learned two things that night. One: I am not that good with razors nor am I good with the sight of blood. And two: I learned there is an elderly woman named Pearl living somewhere in the area who does not take critique of her cooking very well.


  Since I didn’t need my John Tesh CD anymore, I returned it to my record store, where the clerk gladly gave me a refund, then deposited the CD into a bin that looked very much like its purpose in existence was for the collection of trash. As I walked home, I contemplated another form of suicide. This went on for weeks. On the bus to and from work, at work, on the toilet, everywhere and always I found my mind drifting to all the ways of self-murder.


  Jumping off a building was out, as I’d hate to make such a mess for the department of sanitation. Death by electrocution was a no-go as well. I couldn’t stand the idea of being fodder for all the lame puns. “He electrocuted himself? I can’t believe it! I’m shocked! No, wait, I guess that’d be him! HA HA HA!”  Nothing seemed to work out.


  Then, after two months of deadless ends, it finally hit me. Pills. I’ll just swallow a fistful of pills and drift away quietly. First into a deep sleep, then into non-existence. Nice, neat, and wholesome. However, getting the pills would prove troublesome. I wasn’t friends with any dentists, nor would I be any good at charming the local pharmacist woman into slipping a few downers with my vitamins. Then, while watching the news later on that night, I saw this commercial on TV about this new “Sleepy-time Chaconix” aspirin that just came out. Just two pills are supposed to help you get through the night in a “restful and undisturbed sleep.”  Surely enough I could do the trick with enough of them. And that was it. The next morning I woke up early and walked to the Shop-Bonanza across town, picked up two bottles of “Sleepy-time Chaconix” and a can of chicken noodle soup. With fifty pills per bottle I figured I was more than prepared for the task. The soup was for helping me take the large dose of the pills all at one time. I couldn’t swallow a hundred pills at once, in fact I couldn’t even swallow more than two pills at a time due to a horrible throat infection that I had when I was twelve. And swallowing only two pills at once would take far too long. So, what I would do is crunch up all the pills, and mix the resulting powder into the soup.


  Later on that night, I was smiling and dancing away as I hammered the pills on my kitchen counter. On my way home from the Shop Bonanza I bought a new CD for the occasion.  ABBA Unplugged.  (After ringing me up and seeing my selection, the clerk at the record store banned me from shopping there again.)  So I had that blasting on my stereo. I was going to kill myself and I couldn’t have been happier.


  The soup cooked, I took a seat on my torn black leather couch and had a big bowlful. I could barely taste aspirin. I had thought that it was going to make the soup bitter, but that wasn’t the case at all. After my second and third helping, I laid down on the couch and prepared to cross over into the darkness.


  I woke up in the hospital the next morning. The doctor explained to me that during the night before, my Landlady heard several loud and disturbing moans coming from my apartment, which prompted her to call the police. When they arrived, after getting no response from knocking on the door and at my Landlady’s request, they broke though the door only to find me unconscious on the floor and covered in my own vomit. After calling the paramedics they did a little investigating, and found a can of chicken noodle soup in my kitchen. Apparently the soup’s expiration date had been up over six months before. The doctor finished by saying that I “probably had quite the nice lawsuit on my hands.”


  When he left me alone I put it all together. I figured out that the reason I was laying in a hospital bed and not in the morgue must have been because of having vomited up all the sleeping pills along with the bad soup. I felt a wave of despair wash over me. Once again my suicide attempt had been dwarfed by bad luck. I fell asleep with the troubling thought “Maybe I’ll never be able to kill myself,” floating through my head.


  I woke up in the dark about five hours later. As I sat there in the bed, under the freshly starched sheets, with the beeps and other goings on of any normal hospital happening on outside my door, I began to smile. After suing the Shop-Bonanza for selling the expired chicken noodle soup, I could use the money to hire a profession hitman to kill me!


  Things were finally looking up.

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I hate Christmas [Dec. 23rd, 2005|02:21 am]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted

[mood |sleepysleepy]

How are you ole' jolly Saint Nick?
Why i'm fine and dandy
He said to me with a gut full of brandy
He asked me for money while coughing a bit
In fact he coughed so much he threw a fit
The holiday season has run me dry
I said to the man with the dark beady eyes
He didn't belive and pulled out a knife
Hand it over he said or i'll take your life
I handed him my wallet which was quite bare
He lowered his head and gave me the evilest stare
I backed away slowly while praying to God
But that made him madder as mad as a dog
So I turned to run but he was to quick
With a knife in my back I said you fucking dick
I fell to the ground bleeding and moaning
Santa took off my pants and gave me a boning
After he was done he removed his belly from my back
Then he took off all my clothes and put them in his sack
He ran off with a gargled ho ho ho
I lay there naked as it began to snow
I cried for my mommy as I bled to death
I turned myself over and drew one last breath
Everything turned black and I went without a fight
Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight
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Dodged it without even moving [Nov. 23rd, 2005|03:22 am]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted

[mood |I miss her :(]

A prophet of undermining
Ataching weights to my flaws
Blowing them out of proportion
Yet gains no ground because he undermines himself

A red face spouting dirty limrics and double edged swords
Cutting while being cut
A pint of anger mixed with blood
Spit out the bile that makes you whole and your left emty

I sail on a Caribbean wind warmed by the sun
"Avast ye landlubbers, you'll never catch the dread Pirate Nobeard!"
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October Bleeds November [Oct. 13th, 2005|03:21 pm]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted
October bleeds November
which turns into December
the coldest month of the year
but as the world keeps turnin
and I keep learnin
the meaning of my meager exsistance

October come November
earlier than expected
and now I am rejected
from myself
but as I keep evolvin
and the world keeps revolvin
I know that I exsist

So come November!
Come November!
Bring your challenges
and Ill bring a warm jacket.
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DOUBLE POST POWER! [Oct. 11th, 2005|03:42 pm]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted
Sorry guys, I just had to get this happy little ditty out of my head.

The Neverending Persuit of Something We Call Happiness

We chase what cant be seen
in a dark room in our own heads
we flop around blindly
we talk ever-so kindly
but really we are all just dead

This is the neverending
thought bending
persuit of happiness

we hate to say that we know it
we think that life is but a game
but then its over and were left wonderin
"are we all just the same?"

this is the neverending
thought bending
persuit of happiness

we hurt ourselves with our own thoughts
we run ourselves till we drop
but really when you get down to it
your the one who is eating all the crop

this is the neverending
thought bending
persuit of happiness

we are nearing the end of our time on this planet
it is almost the end of my song
but still im left wonderin
did you all follow along?
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Hey! [Oct. 11th, 2005|03:15 pm]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted
Rex here with another poem that I am not quite satisfied with but Ill put it to the public eye to be scroutinized anyway!

Backside of the Earth

Living on the backside of our earth
where the sun is as dark as coal
and the dirt is the same color as our souls
I live on the backside of our earth
where things never change,
our hearts grow bigger with hate
and our heads fill with fear
we live on the backside of our earth
where the sky turns grey
with every god damned day
I am the backside of the earth
and I am here to say

The water is black
The air is icy cold
and I am getting old

The water is black
the air is icy cold
and I am getting old

They see the dark side of earth
and run
We see the dark side of everything
and rejoice
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another little snippet... playing with some characters here. [Oct. 7th, 2005|11:19 pm]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted

i don't think i've ever been this tired. can you carry me home?
no, but i can hold your hand.
no, really, i'm tired.
you can sleep in my arms.
i don't think i'm going to make it.
you've made it before.
this time's different. i'm tired.
no it's not. you don't remember.
just put one foot in front of the other.
i can't.
somebody will see me.
i'm the only one who's looking.
you're not enough.
i can try.
i'm tired.
i know. it's been a long trip.
was i really up there?
yeah, i think you were.
but i'm scared of heights.
i'll catch you.
you'll watch me fall.
i'll catch you.
i'll slip through your arms.
i'll catch you.
i'm falling.
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Okay [Oct. 7th, 2005|01:27 am]
Dark & Edgy Writers Wanted

Everything is fixed and I am once again the moderator.

Remember kidz, play nice or go play somewhere else.

Btw: Because I am the queen of fake LJ deaths...many of my post in this community are now from dead journals. But I originally posted under iamobsolete and insipidoll. Although I haven't posted in a while [All these great new pieces popping up sure have inspired me], I did participate heavily in posting in this commnity. After all, I created it so I can exhibit my pieces.

But yes, I will def start posting new stuff also, you guys truly inspired me with your great works.

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