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No matter how much you beg and plead, no matter how much you cry and scream, the knife will stay stuck in your head. The real world still is not a dream. Ability to speak is gone. Ability to blink is gone. Ability to shriek is gone. Ability to think is gone. You wish for one more “second chance.” Just one more chance. Just one more chance.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 12.07.2017
it was the first thing that i saw
the bottom of the glass
brown sticky tar like ice cube
stuck in between the reflection and the world
i plead the fifth
emptier like the smile
we stay on every day
the work the suffering
in a system
By Matt m. on 12.07.2017
Please stop this nonsense in silence
I can feel my knees bending and about to pop
like they have never moved before and are
a new thing just out of a package.
Please don’t forget to be gentle
when first moving and testing parts,
the tend to squeak like mice
or rats forever and ever.
By Flyderkov URL on 12.07.2017
desperately pleading to Pleiades
plaid-patterned skin disease
strength, courage, mastery – take the three of these
had a fever dream full of flame points and siamese
a fright appears: fight or flee? I freeze
only seem to be blessed after a sneeze
hollow knots on gnarled trees
success is a succession of thrones to seize
By omqwat URL on 12.07.2017
He dropped to his knees on the stone, red eyes wide with pleading. “Please, don’t leave me, I can’t stay here…” His calloused hands trembled as they reached out to me, as if grasping for something solid in the empty, humid air.
He seemed small, and frail, beneath me. His oversized, sweat-stained tunic seemed so pitiful. His greasy hair was repellent. His scabby skin was nauseating.
I turned away. There was no more I could do here.
His empty shouts and sobs followed me as I walked away.
By Archanza URL on 12.07.2017
The fireplace crackles. I rub the slightly scratchy wool blanket between my fingers. Every part of me that isn’t under that blanket feels the cold from the dark wet night outside. In here, though, I’m warm with you.
By Corinna Jessica Taylor URL on 12.07.2017
The eyes are wet and blue as the depths of the sky when you’re looking down into them on a clear, heavy night, and the lips move in one motion again and again in a hypnotizing hum.
By Riannon URL on 12.07.2017
(A Michael Flynn saga, in four parts)
By Florence Farfaletti on 12.08.2017
“You are making a huge mistake”, she begged me. “You won’t ever be able to return from this.”
Turning around one last time, I found a thousand questions in her eyes that I was not ready to answer.
Maybe one day I could forgive myself for all of this. But not tonight.
“Perhaps I don’t want to.” I said and closed my eyes before the first tear dropped down her cheek.
By orangefish2 URL on 12.08.2017
She clasped her hands together before she spoke, taking the posture of begging. “Look. I need this. I need it more than you think I do. I am bad at asking for help. I am bad at admitting I was wrong. But I am here doing that. I need help. I was wrong. Please.”
It was the please that took the sharpness out of his eyes.
By Bridget Grace URL on 12.08.2017
Begging you please not to go, knees scraping the dirt and hands clutching at anything that’ll hold, so caught up in the desperation for one more second that I lose awareness of the moment itself, a sort of ironic drifting away from the point, or it would feel ironic if it weren’t so crushing, the weight of loss obliviating the senses at the very point where the need for those senses is most heightened, at the very point where those senses may only have another moment’s capture of the thing that matters
By Kybard URL on 12.08.2017
pleading is wasted on a dog, BC it doesn’t really understand you. course your kinda dumb to be pleading with a dog in the first place. ha ha ha. im weird.
By Secretcommander URL on 12.08.2017
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.