#exceprt from a story i'll never write | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shroom-vroom · 2 years

Quote

Absent”, first spit itself out of my kindergarten mouth after the name of a missing friend during classroom attendance. Absence is a measurement. It's the empty humans measure with all things important to them. Absence spells like a brutal telegram bearing bad news, the possibility of absence is a rat trap I'm terrified of walking into. I believed what Darwin said about the survival of the fittest and of every species that lives only a human once watched her children laugh by the fire- then grazed her fingers in soot after they slept and drew them on the rock where the moonlight fell. I know what is today probably won’t be tomorrow so I take my campfire moments and put them in a poem. Life doesn't break its rules even if I do so I become a caveman painting the feeling when you grab my hand to bite it but give a soft kiss instead. every time life and I play cards she gets all the aces while I, in my trembling heart hold a card called 'hope' and before my turn, I scribble in brackets, your name.

~ anatomy

69 notes · View notes

memoirsofbilal · 4 years

Text

“You lose people. People who promised to stay, walk away — right infront of your eyes and there’s nothing you can do about it.

As much as you hold onto them, it hurts, until you let go. And most of the times, you lose yourself along with them.

Sometimes, you lose people and they say, it’s for your good.

Sometimes, you lose people — people you wish you didn’t and sometimes, you pray they stayed.

Sometimes, you know the reason and other times — it is, what it is. Period.”

— memoirsofbilal (via Instagram)

56 notes · View notes

goldenhourgiirl · 4 years

Text

The Man With a Lust for Apples

Markus was thinking about a clear sky and wet sand. He was walking to the market down the street from his apartment. His life was busy; six corporate meetings a week, small briefings, piles of paperwork and dozens of clients, the task of breathing. But it was Sunday and Markus could breathe freely. He could walk down nearly-empty streets in jeans and let the scent of car gasoline and the sun-drenched asphalt of the roads fill his senses. Fill him up, up and up to the brim until he was ballooning with care-free innocence. Nothing brought him the same sort of feeling as this.

The market was an array of endless colour and light. Local fruits, vegetables, crocheted place-mats and artisan crafts everywhere. Ah, yes, thought Markus. Sunday bliss. His reverie of clear skies and wet sand wouldn’t be complete without the lustrous sheen of a red apple sitting in the palm of his hand. The beach, the crashing waves, the sun bathing and the crisp sensation of biting into sweet and succulent ecstasy.

He approached the fruit stand, thumbing a ten dollar bill in his hand. Eyeing it all up, he fixed his gaze on the basket of red McIntosh. The pleasantly relaxed expression on his face dropped when he saw the sign: THREE APPLES FOR FIVE DOLLARS. Markus frowned. Surely they weren’t that expensive?

“Do you sell them individually?” he asked the woman running the stand.

“I’m afraid not. But we do have a lovely deal for a dozen,” she replied with a kind smile.

Markus frowned some more. Dismissing the woman, he turned from her stand and left the market. The bill crumpled under the pressure of his fisted palm. The same palm he had hoped would be holding an apple on the beach. A beautiful Sunday, ruined.

He spent the rest of his week in his same relentless ways. But the thought of his blight Sunday sanctuary would enter his mind once in a while, and it tampered with his mood. The once indifferent Markus grew into an irate Markus, fluxing with anger at the smallest inconvenience. Why was life so cruel?

Jane answered her phone. She was at work and on a busy schedule.

“Markus. Can I call you later?”

“No --” he stuttered, “No, this is important.”

“I really have a lot --”

“This is more important. Jane, listen. I need you to do something for me.”

Jane murmured under her breath. “I’m really busy right now Markus. What do you want?”

“Is there a farmer’s market near your house?”

“Yes, why? I really --”

“Great. Go to the farmer’s market and get me some apples - McIntosh. It has to be McIntosh. And they have to be under five dollars.”

Jane wondered if her brother was missing a few screws.

“And you’re incapable of doing this yourself because?”

“I’m working. I have things to do. But I’ll come and pick the apples up at your place.”

“I live three hours away! Just go to the grocery store!”

Markus was frustrated. His sister didn’t understand the difference between good and great. Would the grocery store McIntosh have that same iridescence? That rich flavour that left his taste buds in astonishment? No, he thought. No, they wouldn’t. It had to be from the market.

“You’re useless!” he roared into the phone and hung up. Jane was relieved she didn’t have to talk to him anymore.

The week slowly passed but Sunday came again. The chime of wind and song of birds rang sweetly as he walked once again to the market. He would will his dreams of delight into being. Markus was tired of waiting. He could already hear the crashing of the waves as the sky stretched from no beginning or end in blues and greys above. That feeling of being free, of wanting nothing more than to just exist could not be fulfilled without the missing piece. He just needed one thing.

Back where he had been the previous Sunday, Markus stood before the fruit stand. Nerves all over his skin were buzzing and he swayed slightly as he scanned once again for his prized possession. His heart was racing, dashing, leaping, bounding -- and then swelling with joy. The sign: A DOLLAR AN APPLE. He stood before it, marvelling and grinning like a fool as he made his exchange with the woman at the stand.

He was late to the beach, but there was still time. Instead of an endless blue sky, the sun was descending. Markus lay on a blanket before the shoreline and bathed in the warm riot of colours. Oranges, sultry yellows and golds splashed across the sky and into oblivion. Reaching into the brown bag from the market, he pulled out the apple and turned it over in his hands. Caught in the moment, and under the warm tones of the dying light, he thought that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It’s luster was bright and glossy like wet paint. Markus was as flushed as the deepness of its red skin. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. His lips parted slowly, and at last he bit down into the fruit. Flavour exploded in his mouth and spread through his whole body, charging him like electricity. He had savoured it all, savoured the moment, the existence, the taste of life itself on his tongue. And he was brimming with delight, so full he could float away. He was truly breathing at last.

5 notes · View notes

bloggerpushkin · 4 years

Text

Attaining peace

attained piece

tranquility ceased

across borders; and

inside the four wall boundaries.

those ceased dreams

living in harmony

faked perfectly

the fear born internally

lived life as distorted tree.

the euphoric life

an illusion

the endless strife

no lies

an urge to fly

escaping cries

the unheard whines

the trust declines

in the times

the life when rhymes

those prolonged strives

the failed endless tries

I'll die.

#pushkin #poem #poetry #night #writersofinstagrampoetry #writersofinstagram #writer #exceprt #excerpts #excerpt from a book i'm writing #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from my diary #dear diary #diary

1 note · View note

gludgenbell · 4 years

Text

Your parents are serial killers, and your brother, an assasin

One day you're in the coffee shop, talking about this with your younger brother, who'd come into town to do a killing by the end of the week.

While you're talking, an officer enters with two familiar looking people in tow.

"(Brother's name) I have one hell of a story to tell you."

You recognize them.

The people- your parents.

The officer?

A man you know was murdered by your mother, and thrown into the lake by you.

Your brother paled, getting up to urge the man outside. But he locked eyes with you, and smiled.

"A life for two, eh?"

Idfk.

#lol idfk #idfk anymore #idfk #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing prompt #exceprt from a story i'll never make but is casually making

1 note · View note

itsalittlebitofeverything · 5 years

Text

I often wonder

I often wonder if I’m gonna come out from this hole one day. If, someday, I will be a healthy and successful woman who knows what she wants, or if I’ll stay a dumb drug addict for the rest of my life

#sad #sadness #quotes #saying #text #story #exceprt #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book I'll never write #excerpt of story #excerpt #depression #dark #darkness

3 notes · View notes

asadboyzdiary · 5 years

Text

4am heartache

They always send that are you awake text knowing they already keep you up at night

R-Anton

#love #sad #sad boys #quote #love quote #lovequotes #xanax #drugs #lovequote #xanny #sadquote #exceprt #excerpt from a story i'll never write #emotionally unstable #emotionally unavailable

3 notes · View notes

primem-11 · 5 years

Text

Pleasure in you

Hands wraped around each other

Faces crowned on the shoulders of one another

Smiles that none could decipher

Visiting the places unknown

The pleasure they bring to , is immense and unfathomable

Having you in my arms was never the thought among thoughts

But now, thats what i have in my head

Me you lying dead on the beach

The water splashing over us

We kissing each other tasting the salt layering over us

Body on body, soul on soul,

This is what life is

You trip and you fall but you succeed at last

And then i get a next thought of ours lying on the grass

Looking at the sky

Making out the constellations there

Then you look me in the eye ,

Me facing your dazzling smile

And your beautiful beauty under the moon shine

And then i scream

"I LOVE YOU"

These were my dreams

And if these cant b true

I would build my world in you

Compelling these to b true sometime.

1 note · View note

hopelesslyyou · 6 years

Text

‘I self destruct and run away. I rather call it off and not deal with the pain of a simple fight that will eventually end with heartbreak down the line,’ she whispered. He glanced down at her, slightly moving his head at an angle, a solemn look crossed his face, ‘Then how about you just push it off,’ he flicked his hand as though waving something away, ‘self destruct later. And when you feel as though you’re about to again, let me know and I can persuade you to push it off again.’

Living in a daydream #9

#spilled ink #exceprts #excerpts from a book i'll never write #excerpts from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write #story #solemn #ink #thoughts #spilled thoughts #cute

4 notes · View notes

the-erickson-labrynthian · 7 years

Text

Excerpt 7

I hope people really end up enjoying these, as they are somewhat fun to write (though I am sure I’ll run out of ideas soon). If you like it, like it. Follow me for more stuff, maybe. Idk. I would prefer total obedience, but you’re your own person (sadly). Without further delay, enjoy!

“So many children hate their father, pushing everything bad about their own lives onto him. They treat him like venom and spit in his eyes and call him a monster. They could be right of course, but really the fighting is pointless. I don’t hate my father. It would be exactly as I said, pointless. It would be like burning a bug unable to feel pain. Poking a dead rat with a stick. My father has passed. Any joy left from hating him has faded away in my youth, and it has now become useless. Why hate an empty sack? A lesser being? No, I do not hate my father. I pity him.”

#story #stories #excerpt #excerpts #an excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write #my story #my exceprt #my writing #writing #writer #writers #fathers #life #death #other stuff

5 notes · View notes

poetryandthesea · 7 years

Quote

Back in the days, I could never understand how anyone could run after what is so obviously unhealthy for them but then you came around and I became addicted to everything you do, even those parts of your soul that will never make it able for you to fall head over heels or settle down.

// maybe it's all about the myth of the impossible j.d.m.

412 notes · View notes

shroom-vroom · 2 years

Quote

on occasions i would see a girl on the metro with a guy whom she would walk in with holding hands and stand a little closer to than needed. i would know in one glance of her laugh that whatever is funny, is only funny for them. i would roll my eyes past because its rude to stare and know the crowd is making her hold her kisses. i would pretend to read my book as i noticed her mumble "bye" with a smile as he left, as the train left the platform with him watching her through the glass of the door moving away. i would steal a look as her phone would flash and she would smile over a text from him. i would wonder if she's scared about him, about all this being the beautiful that every passenger watched without watching. i would wonder what she thinks when life old wisdom of youthful longing never lasting interrupted her reckless passion. i would, as i do now because you have made me that girl.

~ Blue Line Yellow Line

15 notes · View notes

secretlyscribbled · 7 years

Quote

She doesn't wanna believe when someone appreciates her anymore. She thinks they're lying.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write

#excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a story i'll never write #exceprt #excerpts from my life #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled poetry #spilled poem #poetry #my writing #writing

46 notes · View notes

mail-me-an-ear-blog · 7 years

Text

The cell was dank and dark, and almost made it hard to breathe, but that didn't stop him from making as much noise as he could. The once-pristine wooden table was now splinters on the floor after having become the subject of his anger. The metal chairs were dented and upturned, not being broken so easily. Once he had run out of things to destroy, he turned his attention to the wide porthole-like window on the door. His fists best against it in a steady thrum, muted by the thick metal of the door. Blood mixed on the glass, making it look stained and cloudy, but he still saw the petite figure on the other side of the door, flanked by her foot soldiers. A stupid, satisfied grin on her face. He landed his fist on the window again, hard enough to break the bones in his hand. However even as they twisted and bent out of shape, he was numb to it. His broken hand would make the unnatural twist in his nose, and the blooming bruise on his cheek. The woman on the other side muttered something, directing her attention down toward the ground as she did. Not moments after she spoke, the foot soldiers moved forward, arming themselves as one of them unlocked the heavy door. He was faster than the soldiers, and shoved the door open as soon as it was unlocked, his breathing heavy and fueled by rage. "Fuck you," he spat, a mixture of blood and spit landing at the woman's neat, new shoes. "Clean him up," the woman said, her voice clipped and tense. "And see to it that he visits a healer." The woman watched him just long enough to get the satisfaction of seeing the look of shock cover his face. Her men grabbed both of his arms and forced him down the hall, obviously not bothered by his struggles and shouted curses and threats.

#writing #wow i actually wrote something original #short story #blurb #exceprt #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writer #daily blurb

3 notes · View notes

bloggerpushkin · 3 years

Text

Hey!!

The new name

The old face

Been long

Since the last gaze.

Guessing the change

Reason - Keeping self

Out of range.

The cracked jokes

All lame.

Just those confirmations

You been blessed

With wealth and fame?

The years did fade

And would fail

To add to what it became

The coming years too would burn

In those verbal flames.

Ignited and exited

The gestures depicted

The defeat faced

When wrongly decoded.

Not a series of poetry

Just those half conversations

Those, yes, needed a recitation...

0 notes

gludgenbell · 4 years

Text

I feel a little like shit because I'm doing some research, and rereading my story,

And I realized I piled multiple mental disorders onto the main character of my story,

Forced her to deal with it,

And made so many people hate her guts because of it

I mean, it's real life that's what happens in real life but

I just feel like a terrible person

But will that stop me from making it worse?

We all know the answer is fuck no sweetie

#writing #writing problems #im an asshole #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write #exceprt from a story I'll never make but is casually making

1 note · View note