I'm Larimar and I write porno and normal stuff. I like longwinded dialogue, incense, and traditional Japanese art. I used to be a vegetarian but now I have an open-minded view on eating. I swear I can quote every anime and manga/doujinshi that ever existed because I read every single one. I want to be a professional writer, but I'm going to go into writing fan-fiction instead.
When i'm not writing, I'm enjoying good, honest, chit-chatty times with friends and/or people I care about. I love sips of beer and I enjoy a long walk in the woods.
Senryu of the Day
I need to make sure
that I keep my sanity
I'm not an artist
The Unbeatable Corner
You are a young teenage boy who has a crush on a mysterious girl named Celeste. And as her parents tell me, you must find out her secret...
Thanks Shoujo! I'm glad you like the poem. I was actually planning to create a good sketch that goes into more detail on how the protagonist changed with the passage of time. You wouldn't believe the amount of hours I spend over-analyzing a poem like that!
The first time I saw him, I couldn't think straight. All I knew was I had been born with this, and it had taken over my life since then.
The name was John Doe, and he was in my life.
I knew the truth, but it wasn't good news to me.
It was easy for me to forget what my life had been like, like I should be here, right in this life.
I was in love with my life. I was in love with my own life.
It was all there, but I just couldn't see it.
If I had been born with a human face, and all I had seen was this.
My face, my body, my hair.
My face, my hair, my body.
This was the one thing I saw every time I saw him, before I had seen anything else.
I saw this face, that was mine.
To see it was like seeing my own face, that was mine.
I just couldn't see it. Not with my eyes, because I couldn't see my own face without them.
He was always on my mind. The way he would leave a message, when he got bored or wanted to stop playing games.
And that, I wasn't going to be able to remember.
"Hey, John, how's it feeling today? I think you were thinking about playing games again?" I asked him when he had left, and he answered me.
I knew he wasn't even aware of it, but he was always happy when I got him.
It was the only time I saw him again, and I wanted him to know that, but I didn't.
"I'm not much of a gamer, sorry," I said. "I don't play with any of you, but I do have a game you can play. It's called 'The Walking.' It's an old game, I guess you could say. It's really tough, but I always manage to beat the most difficult challenges like the one I just had up near the temple."
He looked a little sad, but I didn't care. I just wanted to know what had happened.
When he was around, he'd say things like, 'I just came back,' or 'I'm happy,' or 'I really didn't want to do this,' or 'How were you going to spend your last couple of hours with me?'
He looked at me like he didn't want to say anything. He just smiled when he did.
So the fact that he had been my friend since I would call him my best friend, and even though he knew more than I did, and knew about me, we just didn't talk much.
When he had been around I would say, 'He should get better' or 'He's been a bother to me ever since my mom died,' or 'He makes my life really hard',' or 'I should've quit. I should've quit and gone to a different planet', or 'I don't know why I am doing this. I just want to get back to normal. I don't know why I am here. Who are you, and what are you trying to do?', or, 'I should've quit, but I can't stop. It's not fair. Just, you know, maybe I should take a little break.' He always talked about my life.
When he left, he left with his game. He left with all his stuff, and he left with my life. He left with my family.
I was just so tired of it all. I was just so tired of talking to him. I was just so tired.
"Hey," I said, and he didn't seem like it, and I was, too. "How's it feeling?"
He looked at me with a worried look again, and I started crying.
He was only three feet away from me, and I couldn't see how he knew I was crying, and I was just so tired. I couldn't even see because he was so close. Even though I was so tired of crying, I couldn't see him. He wasn't just a friend anymore. I had to get away from this.
"It's not so bad," he said. "Just tired. A lot. I know I'm just tired."
I was just so tired. I was tired for everything.
I tried to talk to him, but it was too late.
When I got up, I didn't want to talk to him anymore. I knew if I wanted to play, I could, though I still didn't know why.
He still didn't know what I wanted to play, but I knew he wasn't going to go away. Maybe he'd like games like 'The Walking', or whatever. I didn't care.
I had to get away from this, and that was it. I could leave right now.
I was so tired, I was so worn out, and he was right by the door, so I had to get away from him. I didn't even want to talk to him.
I went up the stairs and looked at him. He was still there, and I could see him, like, behind us. He was there, just looking at me. He was just looking at me, and I felt like crying.
I walked up the stairs, and he was right there, right by the door. I didn't even see him, and the door would open a second later when the raindrops would settle in and I wouldn't see him again. I just tried to push away the tears.
This was going to be my last chance. I didn't know how I was supposed to break free, but I had no choice.
I walked back down the stairs and looked at him. I was just so tired. I was so tired. He was just the first friend, and I was just the second. I don't even know how I was supposed to get away from him, but I had no choice.
I walked back down the stairs, and this time he was right in front of me. His eyes were big and red, and I could make out his eyes too, as much as he had them. I was so tired. I had to turn around, get to the car, and get out of there.
Suddenly, I felt like I had hit the wall. I was so confused. He looked at me, and he saw me, and he just turned and walked away. I was so confused, and I didn't know what to do or say.
I ran, and I ran. I ran fast, I ran fast, and in the process of running, I stopped, and I was scared.
I tried to run, and I tried to think, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I didn't want to hurt him, or hurt anyone else, because this was just too much. I was afraid, and I ran into the dark street, and I cried.
Here's mine. It is a poem about a plague that is about to strike. Of course it can be anything. That's the beauty of it. It is like that. Whatever fate is choosing to throw at us, it can be anything.
If we did all we could,
The world would be safe
It seemed impossible, and it felt bad.
But the problem was, we didn't know why.
I couldn't bring myself to feel bad
About dying and being sick.
In the mirror I saw a man
In sickness and in health.
Even though I never knew the man
I knew that I was in danger.
Even though I never knew his name
I knew that it was my destiny.
The illness took my control
From the height of my euphoria,
I felt the pain and fear creep in.
I didn't want to feel that much fear
But about this,
I couldn't let it affect me,
I could feel no shame in this,
I could feel no shame in my body,
but I couldn't take it nor hurt it,
I didn't want it to,
I didn't want it to,
it was too far away.
My bones had been broken,
lost, cracked, broken.
I felt it;
I felt it,
I felt it,
I felt it.
I lost myself;
It was too far away.
I've titled it "Braces of Destiny" because I'm sure people reading it would think it's all about bracing against the epic tragedies that we can't control. But I'm not talking about a wake-up call, I'm talking about a release. There are things that we can control. We can leave our wallets, our bras, our curtains, our phones at home and do some self-care. We can stop listening to the news and all the canned commercials on TV and movies and turn off the damn noise. We can choose to eat well. We can choose to not sit on the toilet while in the shower and grab the nearest porn tube. And I know that we can do more than just those things.
Thanks! I hope to try more poetry here and show the community that you don't need to be an expert to have an interesting and successful online persona. I also hope to encourage others to do what I've done: share their writing and tell the world who they are.
I wrote this one after running down the street, looking up at the sun:
My love is like a flower,
A rose in the bud, in bloom.
Its scent, intoxicating,
Gently caressing my spirit.
It touches my heart and nose,
Makes its presence feel like an oasis.
Like the moonlight a vision of me,
In the morning when I first kiss her.
My love is like a flower,
The fragrance, heavenly, inviting.
My mind becomes calm.
Like the moon at its highest time,
Waiting for the sun to rise.
It was a tender and peaceful night,
As the moonlight darkened my dreams,
And a gentle breeze carried the scent.
Ah, isn't it a dream?
My love is like a flower,
Petals abloom, awakening.
Wake up, my love.
That night, is my treasure.
By how the night devours me, I want to meet it again.
Though I only slept through the night,
Let me love thee.
When I saw the bird and the flower, it said
For that is my fate, and it is only that
I know the place where the bird and flower are
And the soul that bears the sweet fruit,
the song that lulls the soul,
and the flowers that warm the earth.
As if I were to fly by the wing and the sky
On the sea and the earth
In those hollow places that are made for us
the flowers; and the sky, the one and the other.