Comments Posted By Ian
Displaying 151 To 180 Of 349 Comments
A photoraph. Stealing the events of today, captured on film. Stored forever, engraved. A memory. History, captured.
» Posted By Ian On 03.28.2012 @ 3:26 pm
“Capture him” his gravelly voice shouted from behind me. I had an idea who it was but I wasn’t going to stop to look back; I was running for my life, and my heart was beating fast enough to compete for first place. I knew I needed to get away. I knew I needed to escape otherwise I’d end up back in that room and never be able to see the sunlight again.
» Posted By Ian On 03.28.2012 @ 3:06 pm
it is a measure of emotion. if you have a bad temper you are irritable and angry. if you have a good temper then you are cheerful and happy. or maybe not maybe i’m just writing to write
» Posted By Ian On 03.25.2012 @ 6:43 pm
She reached her hand out to the cup, say neatly on the saucer. The gentle chink of china as she lifted it from its home to her lips. Steam drifted up to mist the bottom of her glasses as she took a sip of her tea. Exquisite, she thought to herself.
» Posted By Ian On 03.24.2012 @ 2:19 pm
“Get out!” He screamed, seeing the white, powderous residue resting on the table.
“What?” He replied, obviously confused.
“You KNOW what I mean!” This wasn’t the first time this has happened, and they’ve had it out before over the same thing. He’s sworn, he’s promised, he’s given his word but each and every time he gave in, the urge, the rush of the cocaine simply to euphoric to resist. He tolerated it for a while; after all, he’s been in the same position before, but now it was just too much. After so much time it’s just not worth putting up with any more, and this particular instance was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I’ve had enough of this William, I can’t put up with seeing you like this. Get yourself cleaned up or get yourself out of this house, otherwise things are going to get worse”
» Posted By Ian On 03.23.2012 @ 3:26 pm
“mmmmph”. The only sounds he could make. His hands tied securely behind his back. His feet bound together. So little space, he kicks out at the confines.. The trunk.
» Posted By Ian On 03.22.2012 @ 4:15 pm
Hard rain falling on the windshield. The mysterious man driving 100 mph without obeying the traffic signs. It was an ominous night. Bam! Bam! Bam! Coming from the trunk. The little girl abducted from outside of her house was crying and banging on the metal that kept her from escaping into freedom.
» Posted By Ian On 03.22.2012 @ 12:05 pm
Something that happens to women and girls whom try to show off their beauty and intelligence to the world of the prim and proper wherein there is no need anymore. We of the new generation know exactly how smart girls can be.
» Posted By ian On 03.20.2012 @ 8:13 am
A second. A minute. An hour. A day. A week. A month. A year. A decade. A century. A millennium.
A wait. A breath. A heartbeat.
» Posted By Ian On 03.14.2012 @ 1:24 pm
The overwhelming power, a magnetism that pulls you to your true north. A god. A machine. A science. A love. A brain. A hope. A desire. They are all beliefs. So hard to prove.
» Posted By Ian On 03.12.2012 @ 4:22 pm
Reduce, reuse, recycle.
Build, destroy, build again.
Grow, compost, water, grow again.
Eat, digest, shit. Eat again.
Tempt, enjoy, emptiness. Seek enjoyment again.
» Posted By Ian On 03.11.2012 @ 4:06 pm
Slowly stretching out my arms from under the cover. Squint at the bedside clock. Think it says 11:15. My hand fumbles along the side, reaches for my phone. Three missed calls. Time for brunch.
» Posted By Ian On 03.08.2012 @ 1:25 pm
it was a dark brisk winter night, nothing visible until a small yellow light flickered in the distance, a glimmer of hope in a moment of truth. a lantern.
» Posted By ian On 03.01.2012 @ 11:41 pm
Oil, electric, or at the end of a firefly: you’ll find one brightening your day or cluttering your desk. Loosely carried, they help around a campsite or in an ancient castle. Torches are bulky and dangerous. Lanterns: safe and reliable.
» Posted By Ian On 03.01.2012 @ 7:00 pm
I once read a poem about a paper lantern.
I’m thinking about one piece of paper sized flame.
I’d like to pick it up and feel the color of my hand change.
» Posted By Ian On 03.01.2012 @ 11:33 am
Take into ones life
Held under wing
Fragile hand seeks comfort
Strength and love
» Posted By Ian On 02.09.2012 @ 2:41 pm
Orbit. Moving and dancing around another body. Compelled to be there, yet unable to to escape however much it wishes to try. Held balancing between attraction and repulsion. Revolving.
» Posted By Ian On 02.07.2012 @ 6:39 am
I strutted down the runway, the intermittent flashes of nosey journalists agitating me as I made my way to the end. I was modelling some indie italian designers latest “haute-couture” collection and to be frank it looks ridiculous; shiny, metallic, frumpy dresses or outlandish, bizarre designs made the up the vast majority of the dresses on the runway, and I felt like a complete idiot showcasing some of them.
» Posted By Ian On 01.20.2012 @ 1:01 pm
Harp and bow. Dials with keys and steam that’s only air. Wailing on and on in a flexible fashion. Under-appreciated.
» Posted By Ian On 01.16.2012 @ 10:13 am
An apron. Nothing underneath. Would be very chilly. Hair standing. Goose bumping.
» Posted By Ian On 01.05.2012 @ 3:35 pm
“Shit!” He tore the thorns that were hooked into his skin. They clung stubbornly to his skin ignoring his protests like insolent children.
» Posted By Ian On 01.04.2012 @ 7:29 pm
What the fuck? What was that in his eye? It wasn’t a sparkle and most definitely not a twinkle. But I guess when describing the shine and moisture of someone else’s eye a glimmer would be appropriate.
» Posted By Ian On 01.01.2012 @ 10:50 pm
The undulating gusts of wind tore through the desert, pulling up sand as it went. You couldn’t see very far because of it. But of course, Alex continued onwards, determined to get to the oasis. He travelled what seemed like hours, his backside sore from the hours riding on the back of a camel, but eventually he made it, jumping down from the beast and savouring the pride that he now felt for persevering through the sandstorm rather than turning back.
» Posted By Ian On 12.29.2011 @ 9:55 am
handicapped person who cannot hear. Or non handicapped people who just tune other people out because they don’t give a shit about what that person is saying. My dog is going deaf I think.
» Posted By Ian On 12.25.2011 @ 4:30 pm
there was a wolf howling in the wind
and the light from the moon showed shadows of dancing creatures in the night
» Posted By ian On 12.20.2011 @ 8:43 pm
YOUR BODY IS MY TEMPLE. I want invade it, ransack it and pillage. I want to drive my sword into it and conquer it. The sword is my penis.
» Posted By Ian On 12.14.2011 @ 10:23 pm
I don’t even know what the fuck this means. Alarms. Maybe, someone who alarms people for no reason? Or over-reacts? Or is aware of every little thing?
» Posted By Ian On 11.07.2011 @ 12:38 am
As the tires ran by, splashing up the puddles of the rainwater onto the pavement, I walked down the lonely street with my hands in my pockets. I looked up into the dark, cloudy sky, squinting and struggling to see stars, but instead I’m faced with an endless blackness, a oblivious void in which I fear one day I’ll fall into.
» Posted By Ian On 11.05.2011 @ 1:14 pm
The static downpour pounded on the car roof as we powered down the highway. I had only just come home from school that day to find that my dad had everything packed, suitcases lined up at the bottom of the stairs and him announcing that we were leaving.
For some reason he’d always just randomly decide to move, completely uprooting our seemingly happy lives just as we begin to integrate into our new neighborhood and move.
» Posted By Ian On 11.05.2011 @ 5:46 am
Back To Stats Page
I was her husband, I was married to her and wed to her until death did us part. As the years went by and the honeymoon period went by, our love disappated and faded. I longed for the same passion that we held in the first stages of our relationship, the fire, the air, the life.
» Posted By Ian On 10.31.2011 @ 5:29 am