The_Bored_Poet's profile

"Lihin's Interlude" The televisions had been SCREAMING for a long while. World chaos, things like that. They spoke of terrorist attacks across the country, of people going wild and acting unpredictable, massacres, school shootings, this and that. They spoke of a terrorist organization known as the "Seekers". They spoke of an organization known as the "Guardians", formed secretively by the most holy of men in the nation. They spoke of chaos, they spoke of violence. They spoke of rebellion, of...

The short and stocky young man stood burningly at the threshold of the small doorway, his eyes glinting inside to view a small armoire in what seemed the interminable distance. He felt quite aware of his body, frankly too aware, his wrists glowingly speaking of scholarly fatigue and his gut glowering with the patient but assured stupor of a beast comfortable in its vileness. The stiff and portly young man eyed the fine furniture of the room before him one final time, noting how all of the pi...

"At The Back of the Bus" The bitter scent of sweat, pungent in the night wind Pitter pattering wheels on track, lunging through dark ways might hint At the cargo loads of frozen flesh inside who defrost from their dusk-ended Day. The bus coasts past street signs and frozen glimpses of men C-clunk, c-clunk Holding them in second long captures of life and sorrow That you know so well and feel a despising swell for. A rising hell forms around your body as you pray for sleep, Ignorance, death, or...

"Part Nine A" Thomas McDonald stood silently watching the carnage stream through the terribly shattered school campus. It felt like an amalgamation of his dreams and reality, of his pleasures and his madness. It felt as if it shouldn't exist. His black trenchcoat fluttered in the breeze, flanking his tawny brown hair and the look of innocence mixed with sadistic will on his face. He paused, watching it. It was as if the school reality he had lived through daily had been mixed with the sharp f...

"Part One" They took her away from me. That's all I know, do I really need to know anymore? To understand anymore? This gaping wound at my shoulder, well, it's a bullet hole. Gaping. But it could be her lacking in my life. It should be. But it isn't. It's a bullet wound. It does have to do with her though, which is why I suppose I should expound my story. I hope you find me eloquent. It all started with the apocalypse. Flashy, yes, unexpected, no. Though it wasn't like all the storybooks told...