The two leaders stared at one another, waiting for a chance, some single factor that would throw the side in their favor. All that would be required for this perfect storm to come into fruition was something as small as a sneeze, or as drastic as a knife to the chest. 

This chance did not come.

“Why all the tension? Why can’t we just settle this over a drink?” The tall pale man asked. He took a few steps back, his eternally black robe brushing the ground. An unsettling grin crept from one cheek to the other, his jagged teeth secretly sending fear into all who saw it. His pointed ears and eyes like that of rat suggested that he was a hybrid, and not fully human like the rest. 

The other man, slightly taller and less pale (and a far less bald), ignored the sordid features of his rival and stared into his eyes. “Because you have my friend, and I want her back. Tis’ as simple as that.” His hand was placed firmly on the hilt of his blade, ready to cut his enemy to a fraction of what he once was. 

The pale one laughed, and his teeth glistened in the light. “Let’s not fight.” He said in a singsong tone. He slid over to his prisoner, a rather attractive girl of about seventeen, whose hands were bound behind her. He placed one of his claws on her chin, and ran it around the side of her face; her beautiful brown hair fell across his hand. “It would be terrible if this poor girl would be caught in the crossfire.” The girl cringed as his face approached her own. 

“Your disgusting…” She grunted, spitting into his face. With the back of his hand, he wiped the saliva, and struck her with a great deal of force. She staggered backwards, and from then on did not speak up.

His rival raised his hand, signaling a comrade to bring forth his prisoner. This captive, unlike the other prisoner, was more relaxed and confident, despite the large blade held to his neck. His spikey hair bounced freely as he was drug fourth. He looked up at his master and copied his grin.

“Oboh, are you going to come get me or what?” The pale man smiled and waved him off. 

“In due time Orez. Be patient.” He turned back towards the other man. “Now Hobo, why don’t you just take Zo and all your other little buddies and leave while you still have the chance? We will keep this little cutie, and you keep Orez.”

Orez’s face became one of concern. “What? I thought you said you were going to bust me out of here!”
 
"Hue hue hue hue," Evil Mister Flame-ingo laughed. His "hue"s reached the pale hearing saucers of his latest victim, who dangled upside-down above a boiling cauldron. This victim also happened to be Evil Mister Flame-ingo's arch nemesis.

"You're supposed to say 'you'll never get away with this, oh fantastic arch nemesis of mine', to which I am to reply with 'on the contrary, Noodlebear-Man, I have already won'! You aren't playing right at all!" EMF embellished this last statement with a sad, over-the-top frown, then went on laughing.

Noodlebear-Man tried to shake himself out of his restraints, but to no avail. His bonds were made of a spaghetti-rotini alloy, known as Pastanite. Noodlebear-Man HATED Pastanite. In fact, Pastanite was Noodlebear-Man's one weakness. Out of all the things in the world, Pastanite was Noodlebear-Man's least favorite, without a doubt. If you even REMINDED NBM about Pastanite, he would start flipping out. The guy really could not stand Pastanite. But EMF LOVED Pastanite. He couldn't get enough of Pastanite. Pastanite kept his nemesis at bay, so he always made sure he attacked his foe close to Pastanite.

The author majorly overused the "kryptonite plus pasta night" pun right there, and he wishes to apologize. It did not happen on purpose at first, he swears. The puns are stopping, the author says. EMF pleads for just one more. Fine, the author guesses. Pastanite is a cruel and terrible thing that only villains love. Other people are literally physically harmed by the raw energy contained in Pastanite. There, the author says. He hopes you're all happy. He grumbles to himself.

Anyways, EMF cackled his malevolent flamingiggle. The "hue"s once again fired off in all directions as Noodlebear-Man was ever-so-slowly lowered towards the cauldron. The pot's contents bubbled and boiled, and the smell of rich tomato sauce and oregano wafted into our hero's nostrils. Evil Mister Flame-ingo planned to cook him and gobble him right up! NBM began to panic. Of all the ways to die he had often thought about in dark drunken stupors, this had to be the absolute stupidest. He knew he simply could NOT go out this way. Managing to face his nemesis, Noodlebear-Man sucked a load of snot into his mouth and hocked the biggest loogie he could muster. The viscous slime propelled itself through the air and into EMF's one un-monocled eye.

The bird issued an unimaginable caw-ing screech. He fell backwards onto the trap's control panel, depressing a button that read "CAULDRON TOPPLE AND RESTRAINT RELEASE TOGGLE". As the button was pressed by EMF's ruffled feathers, the cauldron beneath Noodlebear-Man toppled sideways, spelling its Italian contents all over the floor. It was a complete and utter mess. The Pastanite surrounding Noodlebear-Man unraveled itself too, and NBM fell to the floor of the villainous lair. He picked himself off of the ground and dusted off his rippling muscles. He then uttered a primal yell, and ran directly at Evil Mister Flame-ingo. The villain screamed again.

As the two collided, their forces- one of pure, unadulterated good, the other of vile, despicable evil- intertwined and ripped a hole directly through the fabric of space-time. The two foes were pulled into the rift, which closed itself promptly afterward.

The lab was in utter shambles. Nobody visited it for many, many years. Over time, vines and brush began to overgrow its walls and machines, and it became desolate. However, eventually, someone DID visit it. A man with pale hearing saucers covered in a businessman-like hat walked into the building with hands in his pockets. The man wiped tears away from under his thick glasses.

"This is where it all began," he said thoughtfully. "An entire intergalactic journey, and it started off as a petty conflict in an abandoned lab." He sighed then, and turned to walk out. "I miss you, Flame-ingo. You who, in the end, proved to be my one and only true ally."
 
Thump, thump, thump

Choke me on glitter

Drown me in the spotlight of it

Beat the drums like your heart

Swish, whisper, swish

Dance like a ballerina

Twirl until you're dizzy

Follow the magician into his box

Lock the door, hide the key

Magic is beautiful

While it's an illusion

How the moon doesn't shine on it's own

It's the suns reflection in the mirror

What are we?

Who does the looking glass see?

Us, you, I, me

The freak show under the makeup

The parade of sin and love

Desire and hate

A carnival we are

And a carnival to be

Us, you, I, me

 
The voices unspoken by the living
are the breath of the dead.
They shake like rose petals,
in the breeze.
And break.
Buried under time and lost words.
Kept inside,
suffocated by the unknowing.
Freedom is lost,
every waking moment.
At the cost of the unspoken.
 
Writers, like many other creative breeds live lives absent of lives or at least what one would call life. Writers like poets have to spend next to all their time creating the right choice of words and think of the best way to express themselves with the congregating of verb, adjective, and noun. Poets, like artists need to paint their beauty onto a peace of paper. Filling that paper with thoughts intertwined with images unique to them. Writers have a very fulsome but yet reclusive life. A life spent on other’s imaginative tales and adventures for the pleasurable self-satisfaction of themselves and the intrigue of their many followers. Writers, are people that can waste their time daydreaming and actually get somewhere with it. Writers are people that can waste time on the most outlandish of things and still get an extravagant result. So extravagant, it can move and shake the world around you.
 
As the years go by I still can’t forget your face
The way you made me smile or the way you used to taste
My tongue wont let you go not after all the sweetness you’ve left behind
I still feel your hand on my hand and you’re stare into my eyes
You pressed your face closer to mine and the memories begin to pass
Ill never forget you not until I live 
My life is so much harder with out your voice
It’s colder without your advice
I can’t get close enough to love anyone else but you
Because my whole life died with you

How can I love someone who’s gone?
I don’t know how to explain
All I know is that your soul is still with me
I taste the bitter salty tears that roll down my cheeks
I know that if you were here
You’d wipe them off my face with your fingertips

I try to push it out of my way and leave it at the back of my mind
But I cant
How can I forget something?
That meant, no means the world to me

Id give up anything for you to be here again
I am the goofy insecure girl
But with you I felt special in every single way
You told me I was beautiful 

And it reminds me of the days
When we would talk all night and day
I know I’m not perfection but when I stared into you’re eyes
I didn’t need anything just to be by your side
Its tough enough to live without you next to me
I think about you night and day 
I hope and pray you don’t abandon me
 
I told you I was over you 

But if that’s true

Do I…

Call your phone a million a times a day…

Drive by your house when I see all the lights are on …

Follow you to the restaurants I know you like  

And pretend I didn’t expect to see you there…

Tell everyone you still love me and clearly haven’t moved on…

Leave love notes on your doorstep…

Why do I do all theses things?

Then look you in the eyes and say 

“Look I’m over you”

Maybe it’s a defense mechanism 

My way of protecting my heart from the truth

Which is I’ll never be over you

I’ll always love you
 
Dear God,
the fire burnt so much.
It felt as if tiny red serpents were licking me, not realizing that their little flaming tongues were like thousands of burning daggers piercing my skin.
I sat there as the flames kissed my cheeks, as the hair burnt from my face. I withstood the heat and agony because I had no other option.
Because if I had drawn my head from the fire, my punishment from Themwould be even worse.

Dear God, 
i hurt so much right now.
Surely my face is swollen, I can feel the fleshy layers when I reach up to touch where my eyebrows had once been. It hurts to touch my raw skin, so I don’t do it as often anymore.
I can only see through vertical windows, my eyes must be burnt as well. But that is okay, I suppose. If I could see my reflection clearly I’d probably be more worried. For now it just burns.

Dear God, 
sometimes it hurts so much that I cry. And the crying makes it worse.

 The salt mixes with my flesh, and I scream because I cried too much. Because crying doesn’t release the pain.
I want to scratch out my eyes, scratch at the burning flesh until it peels away in strips covered in my red life-blood. And after it is all peeled away all that will be left is a black covering, the same way that burnt charcoaled wood is left behind.

Dear God, 
i know what you have planned for me is bliss, but why must I suffer so much to reach the end? 
Can’t some days be easier than others? Perhaps for one day could I see the sun and not have to worry about Thempunishing me again?
Sometimes I wish to see the light at the end of the tunnel. To end this pain, to go beyond this misfortune. Because nothing else seems to be working.
But no, forgive me

Dear God, 
please forgive me. 
I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that at all.
I can live, I can survive anything you feel necessary to put me through, to oblige me the pleasure of experiencing in this life. 
I will follow your Master Plan until the end, however insignificant my role is.

Like They say, 
Your Will be done, 
Forever and Ever. 
Amen.

 
Her day hasn’t gone as planned…but she isn’t worried. She comes home to five kids and a foreclosing house…but she isn’t worried. Her court date was a week ago…but she isn’t worried. She’s out of food stamps for this month…but she isn’t worried. Her ex-husband threatens to take the kids away…but she isn’t worried. All of her worries vanish at blink of her mascara-caked eye. With one saringeful, she’s on top of the world. She has total control, all her pain slips away and she drifts off to a carefree world. But that saringeful wears off fast, she needs more. She needs her escape from reality. But her medicine cabinet is dry. She has no more. She has no car. She has no money. She had no dealer that is willing to just give. She has no energy left to go sell herself again to a stranger. She is broken and she has nothing…but 1000 worries.
 
Whats it mean when.. hes all you think about?.. When hes all you dream about?.. Whats it mean when everything reminds you of him?. When you see pictures of him and her.. and it hurts?. Whats it mean when you see him and your knees get weak,  your heart gets heavy and your breathing stops?. What does it mean when you cant even explain how you feel about him?.. When everything he does is perfect, when everything he says leaves you speechless.. 
        when  You cant even. Finish a poem... Because of him.. 
    Picture
    Like the writing you see here?

    Check out our literary magazine, Masquerade to see more!

    Click the envelope at the top of the page to send us an email!

    The cost is 8$, but we will cover shipping to anywhere in the US!