I’m going off on my own for a while. I can’t keep hunting down the other Scribes, I have a hard enough time keeping track of myself.
My solo page is quillofscribes.tumblr.com
I’ll post everything I create there, even if it’s just a short free write. Also, I believe Printess will still post here every so often. Ah…that’s about it.
-Quill
It possesses me in the night, -Printess
stealing away my realities,
replacing them with dreams.
It controls my mind and body,
rocking me gently in thick heavy arms.
Slowly, very slowly, I lose my sanity.
Slowly, very slowly, I lose track of time.
It haunts me until my senses are distorted,
scattered- until they are no longer mine.
It possesses me in the darkness,
draining my body ‘til it’s weak.
It’s calling for me not to fight it.
Finally, I give in to Sleep.
Time ticks on as the seasons come and go.
How I feel about you
That we’ll never know
How can I know the extent of these feelings
if they’re never allowed to show?
And how can I know if what I feel is real
If it’s not given the chance to grow?
once you said that I was young
much too young for you.
You threw me aside with a careless gesture
so I figured we were through
I developed relationships with others,
but a barrier was always there.
Because I’m not ready to let you go…
I have to know—do you care?
You see, maturity means more than staying out late.
It means more than sex and thrills.
Maturity means being responsible,
and letting people know—-what’s the deal?
So don’t tell me I’m immature
because of an age that I’ve been given.
Why don’t you wake up and realize
I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m a woman.
-Printess
It was today, and what Quill would like most is for people to send writing topics to the ask box.
-Last Scribe
Listen
In my mind, I see stills of us in moments we’ve yet to live.
I take my time to sit and try to trace the outline of your lips.
I want to find the word they meant to say and sing it to myself,
or see the slight hint of a kiss and just dream of how it felt.
I’d melt into your tongue, and lady, pardon the text…
but have mine get to work after parting your legs.
You’d taste sweet as my honesty - and I don’t mean to offend,
but my lips would then tend to every inch of your skin.
That’s a story for another day, a still I won’t start to paint-
like all the other visions my heart always starts to make.
Though I love each concept, I’m scared to try and have them made,
but thoughts are always meant to be…that’s why I leave the canvas blank.
-Quill
I’ve got two beers, both for me… tonight was bad for romance.
Touching myself with cold hands, I think back on that slow dance.
I had penguin-esque elegance, shuffled up with swoops and leans.
She asked if I wanted sex. I said “no,” she moved to leave.
I had to woo the thief. She stole my heart with one line.
That, or, my bag bore a strong string of some wine.
I can’t recall what drink it held, but I abused it…
Used it til my thinking fell to a sub level of stupid.
The two-step consumed me, I waddled in chase…
fondled my face, swearing I felt part of it fade.
I was well on my way to wasted, but I had to up the speed.
She was ready to leave and still she hadn’t danced with me.
Actually, I had probably wanted sex then…
but damn that DJ and his perfect selections.
I stuck with dance moves, caught up and tugged her coat.
The seductive stumble proved a pretty decent approach.
The look on her face was joy… or it might have been disgust.
I just smiled and bent my knees with accompanied hip thrusts.
She explained to me her purpose, it was “paid sex and caine lines.”
It hurt, hearing that from the spitting image of my late wife.
-Quill
First Impressions
She’s not stuck up
Only quiet and shy
She doesn’t think that she’s too good
Although she holds her head up high
Quit labeling her anti-social
But make her feel comfortable and at ease
Instead of walking around spreading rumors
That she’s somebody’s sleaze
Stop making assumptions
Get to know her for yourself
Then and only then will you realize,
That first impressions aren’t always the best.
Every breath she ever took was laced with contradiction.
Her affliction is her gift and it plagues her to live with it.
She stays in all their visions, even when she’s out of sight,
and they talk behind her back about the way she lives her life.
She never fought with all she had to try and battle with the myths.
They’d twist and addle in her midst, shadows fighting to exist.
But each night she made a wish, the same - straight to her expression
“Take away the pain gained from these dreaded first impressions.”
-Printess
Collaboration with Quill, who is in italics.
I finally get to write with Printess, another of the Scribes, and that’ll be posted sometime tonight. Since I said “Amazing Things,” which hints at multiple bits of news… In the near future, I’ll be reading my poetry at different spoken word shows around my town, and uploading the videos for everyone to watch.
Also, our 3rd Scribe, Cami, who has yet to post writings anywhere… has been M.I.A. because she’s getting married. Best wishes to her.
That’s about it, I think.
-Quill
Listen
The pools of paint drank deep from her subconciousness,
intoxicated by the sweet taste of every thought and wish.
Calm and rich… it reflects all she’d never shown,
and the heart of every color is a part of that girl’s soul.
Gold can’t shine quite as bright as her black,
the pride in her person does more than make sure of that.
Her paints are the last piece that seals together who she is,
and the beauty that’s within becomes the paint through which she lives.
Watch her move to create with those delicate hands.
Elegant strokes show what the canvas demands.
The white of it’s face shades to the whim of the brush…
the way mine does at the thought of her touch.
So while she makes art display the weight of her reality,
I wonder in her world, what exactly I amount to be?
Am I in the mountain scene, or maybe in that man you drew…
I hope that I can find myself in the deepest part of you.
-Quill
Listen
He watched the light, the way it cast an image of himself…
without the kindness in his eyes or the love that he had felt.
But the welts across his body didn’t copy to the shade,
the darkness wasn’t burned and it’s body wasn’t maimed.
The light had framed his wish across his mimics on the wall,
every vicious act upon him as it never was at all.
While he watched the silhouettes, he briefly entertained a vision.
Seconds later, shadows slumped, signifying his decision.
-Quill
