Who the hell is Interrobang?! by catseyekitty, literature
Literature
Who the hell is Interrobang?!
Who the hell is Interrobang?!
He's the mutated love child of a question and an exclamation,
He's the cry of a howler monkey whose banana has been stolen
He's also the head tilt of a child who can't ever get past 'why?'
He's smirking at the end when you grab your sister and scream:
'Where the hell is my lipstick?!'
Shh...
Let Ellipsis surround you
She's the one with her hands always reacting
Arranged like the three little monkeys
To hear not the knotted voice of a screamer
To see not the eyes of the Tigers opening their jaws
Her soft voice lets the words fade to silence
Not a sharp Slash or a running Dash or whispering Parenthesis
Just dear,
The studio that Lily sat in was obviously set to be condemned, even if she hadn’t seen the sign outside. It was stripped bare of embellishment, and left to rot until the day that the building collapsed into rubble. She felt as if she was the only thing that was alive in this dilapidated hellhole. She was perched onto a small stool with her legs crossed underneath her cheap skirt, and set aside to resemble a lady. Her knees jutted out from muscles thinned from unnatural causes, likely the starvation diet she used to stay skinny as a corpse. Her arms were barely strong enough to keep up her posture, which wished to sag like a scarecrow, a
Instructions: Apply Pressure and Love by catseyekitty, literature
Literature
Instructions: Apply Pressure and Love
There was a void
Where sky and moon
Now dance with heavenly spheres
There was a void
Until his hand pushed
My life together into
A spontaneous
BANG!
I spread like a universe
Filled with suns and stars.
Dear Diary,
It’s a conspiracy! I swear Zeus has it out for me; all of them do. They all ignore that Hermes keeps stealing my diaries! They never give me a break, they always tease my dog (which is just not right), and Aphrodite even has the gall to call my fashion-less. Fashion-less? Let's see her look like a model in a damp, muddy hellhole!
I have never been lucky. In fact, if you ask even the lowest of humans, they would answer it all started when I was a baby. A baby! I was born, and my dad swallowed me. Have you ever been swallowed? It’s disgusting, diary. Sure I got out, but then they stuck m
My artist, I picked you
Not thinking I'd be hurt.
I wanted you proud of me.
I playfully teased you
until I was chased, hunted.
I thought you wanted me.
You showed me off, to they
who at me laughed, and mocked.
You did not dare protect me.
"Not good enough," said you.
So I was tortured, stripped
Of everything you liked in me.
Now, locked away, you don't
Visit. I knew you'd forget.
Did you ever even know me?
I'm made of pieces of you.
I'm a victim, like you are.
We're the same; you and me.
My name is Idea.
I knew you'd forgotten.
Vampires and the Quality of Life by catseyekitty, literature
Literature
Vampires and the Quality of Life
I consider myself a hunter, but I haven't been hunting long, as you can see from my pitiful collection of equipment. In fact, I only started last fall. Nor do I consider this a career, in fact; I only plan to hunt when I'm not working for my college degree. I'll admit I'm not the best student. It's not that I'm not vigilant… I'm just not very good with deadlines. Needless to say, I wish I wasn't so short on time.
It has always bothered me somewhere in the back of my mind. I wondered if I would have time to enjoy my degree once I got it. I was thinking about it when I took my Gothic Literature class, when I first considered hunting. We had
Forgotten island in my mind
Please be, to me, a little kind
I dream of fairytales and lies
Wonder who lives and who dies
Who has love and who's lost
All have their own cost,
But me, I'm in limbo
Here, I do know
There is safety
And loneliness
Me
Forgotten island in my mind
Though here I'm forever resigned
The world I'll continue watch
Wishing to push another notch
Join their 'to be's or 'not to be's
Instead of dreaming under palm trees
I would hate to write movies
Though I deeply respect them
But people always ask about
The director
The actors
The plot
But never the writers
They bring the everything
To life; but like imaginative
Stories, they are too often forgotten
Who the hell is Interrobang?! by catseyekitty, literature
Literature
Who the hell is Interrobang?!
Who the hell is Interrobang?!
He's the mutated love child of a question and an exclamation,
He's the cry of a howler monkey whose banana has been stolen
He's also the head tilt of a child who can't ever get past 'why?'
He's smirking at the end when you grab your sister and scream:
'Where the hell is my lipstick?!'
Shh...
Let Ellipsis surround you
She's the one with her hands always reacting
Arranged like the three little monkeys
To hear not the knotted voice of a screamer
To see not the eyes of the Tigers opening their jaws
Her soft voice lets the words fade to silence
Not a sharp Slash or a running Dash or whispering Parenthesis
Just dear,
The studio that Lily sat in was obviously set to be condemned, even if she hadn’t seen the sign outside. It was stripped bare of embellishment, and left to rot until the day that the building collapsed into rubble. She felt as if she was the only thing that was alive in this dilapidated hellhole. She was perched onto a small stool with her legs crossed underneath her cheap skirt, and set aside to resemble a lady. Her knees jutted out from muscles thinned from unnatural causes, likely the starvation diet she used to stay skinny as a corpse. Her arms were barely strong enough to keep up her posture, which wished to sag like a scarecrow, a
Instructions: Apply Pressure and Love by catseyekitty, literature
Literature
Instructions: Apply Pressure and Love
There was a void
Where sky and moon
Now dance with heavenly spheres
There was a void
Until his hand pushed
My life together into
A spontaneous
BANG!
I spread like a universe
Filled with suns and stars.
Dear Diary,
It’s a conspiracy! I swear Zeus has it out for me; all of them do. They all ignore that Hermes keeps stealing my diaries! They never give me a break, they always tease my dog (which is just not right), and Aphrodite even has the gall to call my fashion-less. Fashion-less? Let's see her look like a model in a damp, muddy hellhole!
I have never been lucky. In fact, if you ask even the lowest of humans, they would answer it all started when I was a baby. A baby! I was born, and my dad swallowed me. Have you ever been swallowed? It’s disgusting, diary. Sure I got out, but then they stuck m
My artist, I picked you
Not thinking I'd be hurt.
I wanted you proud of me.
I playfully teased you
until I was chased, hunted.
I thought you wanted me.
You showed me off, to they
who at me laughed, and mocked.
You did not dare protect me.
"Not good enough," said you.
So I was tortured, stripped
Of everything you liked in me.
Now, locked away, you don't
Visit. I knew you'd forget.
Did you ever even know me?
I'm made of pieces of you.
I'm a victim, like you are.
We're the same; you and me.
My name is Idea.
I knew you'd forgotten.
Vampires and the Quality of Life by catseyekitty, literature
Literature
Vampires and the Quality of Life
I consider myself a hunter, but I haven't been hunting long, as you can see from my pitiful collection of equipment. In fact, I only started last fall. Nor do I consider this a career, in fact; I only plan to hunt when I'm not working for my college degree. I'll admit I'm not the best student. It's not that I'm not vigilant… I'm just not very good with deadlines. Needless to say, I wish I wasn't so short on time.
It has always bothered me somewhere in the back of my mind. I wondered if I would have time to enjoy my degree once I got it. I was thinking about it when I took my Gothic Literature class, when I first considered hunting. We had
Forgotten island in my mind
Please be, to me, a little kind
I dream of fairytales and lies
Wonder who lives and who dies
Who has love and who's lost
All have their own cost,
But me, I'm in limbo
Here, I do know
There is safety
And loneliness
Me
Forgotten island in my mind
Though here I'm forever resigned
The world I'll continue watch
Wishing to push another notch
Join their 'to be's or 'not to be's
Instead of dreaming under palm trees
I would hate to write movies
Though I deeply respect them
But people always ask about
The director
The actors
The plot
But never the writers
They bring the everything
To life; but like imaginative
Stories, they are too often forgotten