porcelianplastc

My Porcelian Can Break Ur Plastc

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Dear everyone, by porcelianplastc, literature

Literature

Dear everyone,

Dear Parents, Friends and Teachers alike, During these past 17 years, many of you have questioned my abilities and why I have yet to reach all the goals these individuals have set for my life. I feel as I grow closer to 18, become an adult and continue this pointless search for well-being I must now inform everyone of the cold hard truth. First of all, though many would argue, I am not stupid. Please file that in the record books for safe-keeping. As I have traveled through schools, I have encountered multiple teachers I have liked and also disliked. But both have inspired me not to attend school more than the one before. I am

Dream Our Sorrows Released by porcelianplastc, literature

Literature

Dream Our Sorrows Released

A cold whisper surrounds my neck Hairs tingling down a warm spine Your memories mix with mine Together we seep upon this leaf And dream our sorrows released. Old emotion slaps my face When your eyes become mine A cold hand keeps me warm And though I fear your memories A ticking clock chokes my tears. A grain of rice with no meaning Pulls at the ends of my hair Burning cold pierce my lips Lay your cheek against mine Feel our pulse together as one.

'Thank You Dearest' by porcelianplastc, literature

Literature

'Thank You Dearest'

Goosebumps climb this very arm, Which pours out blood unevenly. Another imperfection, You've kindly pointed out "Thank you dearest," I reply to your blurry mirage. Another slice my head is drowsy, A migraine tears me down. Another imperfection, I'm lucky to find. "Thank you dearest," I reply to your blurry mirage. My lungs choke a suppressed cough, Out pours its' own blood off my lips. Another imperfection, You've told me. "Thank you dearest," I reply to your blurry mirage. Bite a crispy apple as red as my lips, My teeth shatter as I crumple to the floor. Another imperfection, You've lovingly stated. "Thank you dearest,"

Your Reflection In Each Tear.. by porcelianplastc, literature

Sorrows Nightmares by porcelianplastc, literature

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Who Is She, Going Back by porcelianplastc, literature

Literature

Who Is She, Going Back

Page 10 It was a fairly nice day, cold to the touch but warm to the bone, as she sat on her bed looking around. It was the old familiar story; clean clothes scattered about in piles on the floor, magazines and celebrity clippings sprawled across her desk, and a lonely lap top crowning a tangled mess of blankets on her bed. It's a common perception that a messy bed room often means a messy life or vice versa. She wonders about it now. What's so messy in her life that causes the little things, such as her bedroom, to be so unorganized also? Nothing specifically comes to mind. For a while she sits by her window on a little white swivel chai