Erode Yourself Away

Arrrt. :)

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 19:35:23 GMT

That's the first of two fanart peices for takkatakkatakka or whatever. Ze name Essh confoozeeng.

That's the second.
If you wanna read the awesome fic that these were based on... here's the url... http://community.livejournal.com/mychemicalslash/4440801.html?view=67693025#t67693025
:)
Cause I fail at/am to lazy to bother with html. :)

Annd...I'm too lazy to bother uploading all my other newly scanned arts atm...so...may be someday. :)

Why did I just feel the sudden freeze? What just happened? I'm almost sure the world just ended.

Tue, 21 Oct 2008 01:30:55 GMT

It almost amuses me...
How you seem to think I am so unaffected
How you seem to see the calm, not-sure-what-to-say words, and assume that my face is, i don't know, blank, or just concerned.

No.
It's flushed and puffy and my eyes are cracked by little lines of red.
No.
I've been screaming silently, banging my head against the wall (It might leave a bruise), pulling on my hair. Sobbing.

And I hate to say it.
There are things I'm not sure if I've forgiven you for yet--
some days I have. others? I haven't.
--for feeling so betrayed
--for doing exactly what i did. and expecting it not to matter
--for thinking im so fucking stupid (though really should, because I know its true)
--for telling me the truth. though that's more I'll never forgive myself. And i don't want to believe I've hurt you that much. but I never want to say "then how is it possible that you're still alive?" because maybe I'm a wimp. Maybe I don't know about real hurt. But when you told me it was my fault that you almost fucking--you know. Well. Yeah. How's that for hurt? Exactly.

And who knows. Maybe I'll never post this. Because you're still pissed. Maybe I'll save it for some day when your numb. I don't need you yelling at me. Maybe I'll just go. Quit ATYP. Grab a few art supplies. And be where I belong. Not with the smart ATYP kids. Not with anyone who can play any music. With the kids who can only get theri feelings out through the pencil hitting the paper.

And you know what?
Graphite on my skin.
Almost sounds like a nice change from sharpie
Some days
(she presses 0.5 led into soft, curving skin)

...to see if I can catch a dream...

Thu, 09 Oct 2008 00:25:31 GMT

Has anyone noticed
This disordered dance
Of push pull tug twirl
As you trust her to keep holding on
Sweep backwards
Let what’s left of your weight
Fall?

I'm not saying this is actually how I think it works. I'm not saying this is all of it. Not at all. I'm just--sometimes it feels that way.

The rest of the time? It;s the exact opposite.

Only I don't have words for it. Sooo. Yeah. I'm sorry.
This is just my response to reading things
My response to hearing things
Kind of not my thoughts.

Echo.

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 15:55:50 GMT

I have never understood the need to know
The answer to the question
Ringing from a thousand people’s steeping, swollen lips
Steam hisses out from blue expanses, over maraschino red tongues, in-between their teeth.

It shudders across the frozen ravine
Like skipping stones and thin sheets of metal, hollow, tin-man-chests
(Grey. Green. Cracking.)
Slipping, bounding, every voice one tone
The same tone
Every tone at once.

They mutter, maybe shout, intertwining
Weaving
Woven together—

“Who am I?”

(echo)
(echo)
(echo)

I blink.

Wet eyelashes lock together
And I open my eyes
To the soft smudged lines of charcoal
That lacerate the scene

I am me—
Me.
Where is the question?
What is there to define?

I am atoms, molecules, cells
Pebbles
Feathers
Paints
Stitches
Staples
Stains

A mismatched pair of socks
One green, one blue
I am frilly, floral dresses, sitting in the sand.
I am—I am—What am I?

I am everything, nothing.
Somewhere in between.
I am Outside, Over There,
The Velveteen Rabbit,
And The Potty Book.

I am handmade, hand sewn.

A disproportionate doll
Blue thread crisscrossing on the corners of my eyes
Shaky hand of a sick-fifth grader
Sequin eyes
Penned on mouth
IV still attached
(thin sharp silversteel pouring purple into my veins)

I shake.

“Shake it Like an Earthquake”
Dances close and laughing.
This isn’t allowed.

I am not allowed.

My pants,
Sharpied in a sore attempt of imitation
Speak me, a little
Have been banned.

I am not allowed.

This; me; this difference,
Irregularity
(I like to think exists)
Shut out by closed eyes
The silhouette of me
Black against bright orangepinkyellow light
Shining through paperthin skin

I am not allowed. I enjoy it.

And yet…I am accepted.

I am…these are, those are, this is.
We are.
Memories.
Experiences.

I am a puzzle.
Missing pieces of cat
The little orange kitty whom sometimes I still miss
What was his name?
It made me think of planets.

I am lungs and red dresses, sitting on our front stoop with popsicles.
I am Super Zippity, Cinnamon! And cardboard blocks and trains and organs.
Pipe cleaners, golden stars, caramel in squares.

The blocks sat in a pile. Green. Pea soup, but lighter, yellower.

I am the way the corners of those blocks were used and dulled and fraying, soft brown and peeling apart layer by layer by layer.

In the same off-white room
I am from “cute as a pickle”
And blue clad hugs
Veins and bruises on his legs
Jo March and the nutcrackers.

I am like the Nutcracker.
--I am cadence.
I am a dance.

I am music in 4/4
Oon-tha-oon-tha
And buzzing strings against thick thumbs
Kick, ball, change
Fingers splayed, twirling in the rain
Like skeletons who cough out smoky lyrics

An arena, an army
Stacks and stacks of seats
Breathing slips of black and white
And we are one

I am everyone
I am the cut on your cheek, your wrist
I am white-cloaked death
Spinning innocent circles around you
Swept you off your feet, huh?
Knocked you down, huh?
And yes, this is all my fault
Yes, you should blame me.

Thank you.
Thank you for not.

Because I am trying
I am the arms that wrap around
And try to hold the world together
The tape and kisses pressed over your cracks and crumbles
Shiny, gift-wrap-scotch, and flowers

I am the regrets, put to rest in peace
On muddy ground
Scraps of paper, rough and winding snow
Gliding on a gust of wind
Wings open wide
Don’t flap.
You’re falling,
Falling.

Want me to catch you, huh?

And I am the hopes, the wishes, the dreams,
Wet sharpied onto balloons, squeaking and fading
Sodden, soaking.
Let me go
Up.

Up up and away.

Look.
Look there.

I’m flying.
The wind picks me up from below
And red and black
Raindrops rolling down my cheeks
Like tears
Make my eyeliner run
And into my mouth
Streaked with ink and graphite and slushie and kisses
The white triangle scar
And dark crevices
Like escape routs, like tunnels.
Like secrets,
Like the secret kiss of Wendy’s mother
That was saved for Peter Pan.

Purple lips like juicy seedy berries
That we picked from the tree
And ate with milk
Rounder, darker, fuller
Love, in so many words, written on my arms.

I am a picture
A story
A memory
A dream

I am a poem
Sitting, biting my lip, grinning
Pointed ears chalked against the wall
Saxophone Man
Like I’ll rock off in a second
Maybe I will.

I am—I am—I.

On the other side of the canyon
They are watching me with dark eyes
Deep.
You’d fall in to any one of them
Never leave
Nothing in there to tell you which way is down
Or up
Or out.

Reflected off their pupils; the abyss.

They are a sea of blank faces
Unpainted masks.
Puppets.
(master, master)
Blurred by drops of water,
Smudge stick, crosshatch, sapphire skies.

Small and unforgiving, scared.

I love you.

I stare across, dolls, I’m a real girl, a real girl.
Surrounded by vast nothingness on all sides.
No life.
The volumes of forever stretch out in all directions,
Grey-blue marker landscapes
Crumpling and curling trees and stones,
Still water.
I am a single bright red feather
Drifting onto roots.

I am alone--

I smile.

Sun, 28 Sep 2008 23:21:25 GMT

And it's beginning to snow...

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 01:35:19 GMT

Will I just fall to pieces, or am I all right?

Clearly I have lost all poetic ability.

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 02:58:25 GMT

Turn a cartwheel
Down the driveway
Soft grass on hands
Charcoal smears on the edge of consciousness
There is no end, no corner
wall
I sit here forever
Failed cartwheels
You may keep me from being happy (darkness)
But you can't stop me from having fun
Having fun
Having fun

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 17:36:45 GMT

You could plunge a screwdriver int a wrist and watch the blood spurt, I am sure
The screwdriver is lying there
On my brother's amp
I picked it up
Stabbed
At the couch
Made a hole
Closed my eyes
And the blood flowed
Opened them.
Hello.
I'm Marissa.
Let's go bake a pie.

Help yourself, it'll help me (and her, and her, and him, and everyone)

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 15:28:02 GMT

Falling into old routine. Comfortable. Worn.
I miss constant movement, rare worry.
I love you all, I will continue here.
It is you that needs to make the change.

Take a chance, for once.
Things can get better.
You just need to let them.
All of you.

It's not up to anyone else.
You don't have to help anyone.
You need to help yourself.
You can do it.
So can you.
Also, you.
And you.
And everyone.
The only question is...

Will you?

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 06:33:06 GMT

Sometimes I think you don't realize how sorry I am
Sometimes I think you don't realize how hard this is for me
Sometimes I think you don't realize how hard I try
I always think you don't realize how much I care

Sometimes I think I'm not enough
These days I think you think that, too

Sometimes I think you don't think I think at all
Sometimes I think you don't try at all
Sometimes I think I'm the one who deserves to die
But holy fuck, how hard do I have to try?

Banana.

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 02:54:16 GMT

Title:
Author: 80mimechan08
Pairing:Frank/Gerard
Rating:PG-13
POV: Fwankie
Summary: Bananas. What else needs to be said?
Disclaimer: Dis: A prefix suggesting negativity, not, or no. Claimer: Somebody who claims something to be true? In other words? Don't own.
Author Notes: Two little ficlets. Prompt word? Gasp! Banana.
Beta: Myself. But I posted it on the .net (MCRmy.net) and no one really disapproved...or maybe it was Tessa...Idk..
Warnings: Slight pervertedness?

My mouth closes around it, tracing the shape with my tongue in long, smooth strokes. I moan a little. Mostly for effect. I can feel you shudder, our bodies pressed up against each other at the corners, and I close my eyes.

"Frank, my, uh. Oh, um."

You can't speak. I'm surprisingly proud of myself.

"Yes, Gerard?"

I look up at you through sultry eyes.

"M. My..."

I smirk.

"What about it, Gee?"

"Cuh-can I have it b-back?"

I sigh in feigned disappointment, take a bite, and hand him the pale yellow fruit.

"You know what we should do?

Gerard's mouth is a more than half-full of muffin and partially open when he turns his head to me.

"Wha?

I shake my head a little, hair flopping into my eyes. He and Mikey are both so messy.

But especially him.

"We should play a prank on the fans."

I can tell by his face that he isn't sold on the idea.

"Nothing, you know, mean. Just a funny little joke."

He swallows and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "Okay, I guess. What do you suggest?"

I shrug, thinking. I hadn't planned that far through. "dunno. Was kinda hoping you'd come up with the idea. That's kind of generally your thing. Whaddya say we think on it and talk later? I all I know is it has to be perfect."

He nods, and I grab what's left of his muffin, taking a bite. "Mm," I say, "what kind is this?"

"Banana," he tells me, and a devilish grin spreads across my face.

The effect is, however, slightly ruined by the fact that the skin of my mouth has to stretch across teeth and half-chewed muffin.

"What?" He's a little worried, because last time he saw that look I'm pretty sure I ended up sticking my fingers through holes in his pants.

On stage.

Please don't tell my mother.

Anyways, I gulp down my food and run my tongue over my teeth to make sure no food is stuck in them. It's a habit I picked up from Toro.

"I think I've found our prank."

[b]X_X X_X X_X X_X[/b]

I run my tongue along my lips, making sure they glisten with moisture. Wrap my mouth around the banana, overly-aware of Gerard's hand wrapped a little below my bottom lip. I open my eyes a little wider and plaster an orgasmic look across my face. Gerard's face flushes and he grins a little, brushing his hair out of his face with his free hand.

"Ready?" Mikey asks. "On three...one...two...three!"

A rather bright light flashes across my eyes, and when I blink and open them again, there's a spot of yellow. I flutter my eyelids up and down a bit, take the banana out of my mouth, and grin hastily at Gerard.

He smiles back.

"Ready?" he asks, and I feel the corners of my mouth turn up even more.

"Fuck yes," I tell him, and we post the picture on our myspace.

Of course, first we get Toro to do some fancy stuff so that the thumbnail is me only, from the bridge of my nose up. The caption? Is "Frank eating Gerard's 'banana'"

We smile at our handywork, and I lean back into Gerard.

"You know..." I whisper huskily, perfectly aware of my absolute sluttiness, "We could try that out for real..."

I smirk.

He nods.

We disappear to the back of the bus.

And, you know, have a little fun.

Hope you enjoyed. Please comment? :)

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 06:49:38 GMT

This is too much
This is more than I can handle
More than I can give

Because what's left to give to you
When the world is wearing thin
And my shirts are off my shoulder
From the fabric pressing deep
I trickle off like water
And I lull you into sleep

Am I alive
Am I dreaming
Am I awake
Is this really what this world's become?

I'm so afraid of giving
More than what I have
I'm so afraid of leaving
That giving
Just won't be enough

Am I enough?
Am I enough?
Am I enough?
Or too much?
Or too much?
Or too much?

What?

WHAT?

I can't fucking hear you!
Because the band I'm in is too fucking loud.

Am I awake?
And unafraid?
Alseep, or dead?

No.
More than that.

I'm just a man
I'm not a hero
I'm just a boy
Who had to sing this song
I'm just a man
I'm not a hero
I
Don't
Care
We'll carry on

Except
A. I am not a man
B. I am also not a hero
C. I do care.
D. We will. Carry on. I swear.

Pirates?

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 05:17:03 GMT

Is Frank and Gerard.
No, of course I can't see myself doing as Frank does. Obviiously.

It's two.

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 02:35:52 GMT

Two I've almost killed.
Two I've almost saved.

You're right.
Almost isn't anything.

Will it ever be the same?

Fuck.
I'm wishing to go curl up on something hard and cement and bash things, such as my head, against said cement.

I won't.
Because it would make things EVEN worse.
So maybe I shouldn't post this at all.

Fuck.
Who wants to die with me?

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 23:51:43 GMT

Say something.
You.
*points*
Any of you.
Would you look at that.
Imma cookie.
I crumble.
Get some milk.
Dunk me in.
What am I talking about?
I don't know.
Never do.
How bout you?

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 03:32:19 GMT

Fuck this.

(Am I becoming ---?)

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 01:53:00 GMT

Mechanical rain pounds onto my back
A rhythm
Music?
Heart beat?
Tears.

Curled into a ball in a bathtub, water makes it hard to breath
Trickling through hair
Slippery skin on skin
Sharpness against legs
I won't let it slip

Somehow it hurts more when you're afraid you'll let your hand wander
There is no blood

Except for maybe
Where I scratched away at my scalp
Fingers frantic
For a release
Of this energy, this feeling
Why can't I feel it?
It is locked inside of me
Not raging it's way through my veins as it used to

Blast music as I scream in my mind
Please hold me make it go away
"Where is my angel, I need her now"
"Your tears don't fall, they crash around me"
"Best place to be when you're feeling like me (me) yeah (yeah)
All these things I hate revolve around me (me) yeah (yeah)"

I'm sorry
For all this pain.
Half the pain in the world is my fault
I'm hurting at least three of you
Four
Counting myself

I don't give into impulse
when it comes to me
Hurting you is another story
I'm not sure you know how sorry I am
I'm not sure the guilt will ever go away

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 02:05:45 GMT

If all you want is my honesty
I'll show you just what you mean to me

If you just want me to be true
I'll have you know that I'm not through

And when I smile, it doesn't reach my eyes
And when laugh, [it] no longer hits the sky

Im kinda worried. What next.
HOLY FUCK.
Im even sitting in the DARK.

(am I becoming--?)

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 23:46:04 GMT

Am I becoming ---?

I feel so alone
Even as we speak
A flimsy mask of kindness
Resting on my cheek

:D

Hesitantly painted
Weakly held in place
A rosy little flower
Taped onto my face

++++

Discussions help.
yay for Aubrey. <3

Now slightly numb. But not faking nearly so much.

And yay for becki for making me smileeeee

LLAMA

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 20:27:03 GMT

TBPID IS AWESOME TBH
BUT DUH

Stay. Right here. (You. Both of you. All of you. Even the ones who will never read this post)

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 17:16:59 GMT

Say, the lights are really low enough to play,
Would you cast yourself so solitary?
All alone you prove that I was,
Broken down to move and alright,
Battling the loss you live for,
Meant the world to you,

And would you stay right here?
When I tell you,
That someone out there loves you.
Would you stay right here?
Well I'd tell you,
That someone out there loves you after all.

Sometimes though it's easier to fall,
Would you catch this and then pick this off the floor,
and in a moment,
if you're walking out the door I'd stop you,
And i'll let you burn,
and if you'd turn to me I'd say this,

And would you stay right here?
When I tell you,
That someone out there loves you.
If you stay right here,
Keep attacking you,
That someone out there loves you.

Is there no one, no one out there?
Is there no one who, no one who cares?
And if no one. no one out there?
Is there no one who, no one who cares?

And would you decimate stars then,
When you go?

And if you stay right here,
When I tell you,
That someone out there loves you.
Stay right here,
Keep attacking you,
That someone out there loves you.

No one, no one out there,
Is there no one who, no one who cares?
And if no one, no one out there,
Is there no one who, no one who cares?

(There is. Always. You just have to look.)
(Except for the times when it's pretty obvious, where the people are right in front of you, but you don't want or don't believe their caring...)

Penarts. I WANT INDIA INK FOR MY TREEFRIEND.

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 02:54:57 GMT

Thats for Gee.

That one is me.

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 22:04:00 GMT

Toldya so.
Evan offered me marijuana today.
Said no. See, I'm a good girl.

Draft ONE

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 03:50:42 GMT

Let the flowers bloom

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 22:03:00 GMT

(This is for you, Aubrey. I drew it, and it decided it wanted to be yours. You can have the original, which is better, if you want)