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A New PetI brought home a new pet today!
I decided to call him Samuel, after my Grandpa, because that's who he reminded me of!
Usually, Mom really likes it when I bring home a new pet. I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up, and she says that helping strays is a good way to practice, so I'll be a step ahead of the rest of the class when I go to school for it.
But this time, she wasn't excited.
She screamed, and ran away from my new pet the second she saw it.
But he didn't like that.
He followed her all around the house, eventually cornering her in one of the upstairs bedrooms.
"That's not an okay thing to do, Samuel," I sighed to him as I watched him gnaw on her skull a few hours later. "Good pets don't eat their owner's parent's brains."
I guess I can see why Mom was upset.
Maybe bringing home my zombiefied Grandpa wasn't a very good idea.
She wears razors in her hair
And scissors strapped to her hands
Her dress is made of shattered glass
And her shoes are railroad spikes
She died years ago
Yet she's still here to do her duty
She's protect the innocent always!
He covers himself in leather
And bullet casings
He carries a switchblade
And several broken bottles
He died with her
But his duty will not go undone
He'll destroy the weak always!
They are one
Yet they are not
And when they meet in battle
Their world will end
So will ours
The Luxury Will Kill YouThe Luxury Will Kill You
That noose around your neck is awfully pretty
Encrusted in diamonds and pearls
But it seems to be getting tighter
And it never will unfurl
Enjoy life while you can
For it soon will be bereft
At the rate you're going now
You don't have much time left
Living the life of luxury
Isn't all it's cracked up to be
That noose isn't gold and jewels
It's composed of gluttony
Rapunzel, RapunzelDreaming of her rescue
Rapunzel sat in her tower
Day after day
And hour after hour
Her hope washed away
As the days turned to years
Her cheeks every day
Were dampened with tears
And so Rapunzel let down her hair
From her prison finally free
Her lovely corpse hanging
From her hair for all to see
Just DessertsJust Desserts
The hot Jamaican sun beats down on Brittany la Fleur, but she doesn't care in the least.
After all, the sun is essential to developing the tan she so desperately desires. Her mother ended up with the wrinkled skin of a turtle and eventually died from skin cancer, but that doesn't matter to Brittany.
You see, she's an idiot.
She's such an idiot, in fact, that the tuxedo-clad zombie that marches out onto the veranda is just her type.
She whistles at him, but he doesn't respond to her. Apparently her interest in him isn't mutual.
"Hey, you!" she calls, splaying herself out in as tantalizing a position as she can manage.
The zombie still doesn't react to her.
She fluffs up her frayed, bottle-blonde hair and bats her mascara-coated eyelashes at him, but it doesn't make a difference at all. He's still ignoring her.
"Fine then," she says to him, crossing her arms and sinking down into herself. "I didn't want your attention anyway."
She glares at him, barely takin
A Most Romantic Poem For My DarlingA Most Romantic Poem For My Darling
I'm not a romantic
Don't ask me to be
But here is a poem
Written by me:
Roses are red
Burnt flesh is black
I hope you die
In a zombie attack
I Married A ZombieI Married A Zombie
"Tatiana, are you sure this is for the best?"
The younger woman sighs, placing her teacup and saucer down on the elegant coffee table in front of them. "Mother," she says rather crossly, "I know what I'm doing."
"It's just..." Shirley glances to the corner of the room, where her daughter's new husband is chained to the wall. "I have to wonder how suited the two of you are to each other..."
"We're perfectly suited for each other, Mother." Tatiana follows her mother's gaze over to the man moaning in the corner. "Besides, I love Jonathan."
"I'm aware," Shirley responds, her voice tense. "But is he even the man you married anymore?"
"Of course he is!" Tatiana's eyes soften upon her husband's struggling form. "So he looks a bit different; it doesn't change who he is on the inside."
"Darling, his insides are rotting, too," Shirley says, cringing a bit when Jonathan lets loose a particularly loud, guttural moan.
"You worry too much!" An airy laugh slips past
We Told You Not To Do It"Don't do it!"
The school could do nothing as they watched Frank the catfish unwittingly swim into the pet shop owner's net.
It was a normal occurrence for that horrid man to take the catfish away from their siblings, and Frank's dear brothers and sisters were generally used to it.
The wording on the front of the customer's shirt was rather frightening to them, though.
It read, in bright blue letters: Al's Catfish Shack.
Beneath it, the most terrifying words of all: Best fried catfish in town!
Flip the SwitchI can feel him
Rooting around in the back of my mind
He's looking for something
If he can flip it
It'll be trouble
I left that side of myself behind years ago
Back in Berlin
Back in the 1940s
It's been twenty years since I left
But that side of me has reappeared
Picking through my brain
Bringing up old memories
There are others like me here
Monsters who killed for their leader
Believing it to be the salvation of our country
They have changed, though
They are kind now
They are normal
They are hidden away, as I am
They are anonymous
Just like me
Wandering aimlessly around Buenos Aires
Fading into a harmless existence
Harmlessness isn't for me
I'm violent by nature
A pure sadist
And I've no reason to hide it
So I let him flip the switch
And I regain my identity
The SS officer I once was
All hidden within my anonymity
What's the harm in one little murder
When no one even knows who I am?
Her KissHer kiss was a beach breeze -
gentle with lingering strands of hair
on his sandy cheeks
(And that love
ran through their fingers
I am but a lonely dreamerLosing my family, my love, my home
a part of me faded
yet faded into the palest bone.
I was like the angel
of the palest stone
searching for the heavens
yet knowing i was alone.
This lonely eve
by lonely dreams
Only me dreaming
of dreams the deepest.
Crying a hundred... no a thousand
Was this the final chapter
or another to the distant near
to be at rock-bottom
is that the path to disappear.
i am but a lonely dreamer
and my heart slips deeper than first appeared.
LifeWhen visions came up my mind
And passion took over my heart
I have decided what I wanted
To live with dreams that I have
Being free from oneself
Opening the eyes of my heart
Not skipping any moment
Seeing things once in my sight
Falling in love
Flying like a dove
Living a meaningful life
No Place Like HomeLooks like I'm back again,
I went around the world wide
And now I'm going to confide
That there is no place like home.
Had some shits, had some giggles,
Had some smiles and some tears
I got young and aged by years;
But there is still no place like home.
I left everyone behind,
I left myself back here too
And I've missed all of you,
Because there is no place like home.
From the crying sky
Its solution filled with sorrow
Grief, sadness, remorse, and loss
Now the emotional weather, merely the
Clouds will wipe away such heartbreaking
Feelings, emotions, pain, and darkness
Of this water drop filled to the brink
That's left with no choice
Uncertainty of BetrayalUncertainty of Betrayal
Wandering alone in a world of nothingness, wishing for something to return to you. The dust of your wandering soul forever shattered, echoes the cruelty and teachings of people you thought you could love. Betrayal is a weapon that is used too horribly. The wounds that betrayal leaves behind don’t heal so easily. If you look really carefully you can see that agony it leaves behind within the tears of all it touches. Those tears beg for the pain to end, it wishes to end the torment brought on by the people they loved.
Betrayal’s blade makes learning to trust and love an uphill battle. Like a God that allows for no miracles to occur. Curing betrayal’s disease is nearly and certainly almost impossible. Forgiveness does not cure this, forgiveness does not take away the pain, the hurt, the decades of suffering. Forgiveness simply renounces the resentment of what they did. How can it be that we can forgive and heal anger, but not the pain? How can we
Tender ScarsFor him,
broken bones would set
burns would heal
in mere minutes,
cuts would close
in just seconds.
But the lashes she gave him,
the scars she left,
carved out years ago
into his heart,
to this day,
tender to the touch,
can never truly restore.
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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