“Doctor, Doctor!”
Dr. Harvey turned toward the sound of the word doctor before raising an eyebrow at the two explorers running toward him. They were frantic in their waves and the way they were running. He hadn’t been called a doctor in a long time. With the advancement of technology, doctors had become obsolete. Organics were able to diagnosis themselves via a small robot. The robot would give a diagnosis to which an antidote or antivirus was created. It didn’t take long, and they were very good creations.
Doctors were no longer needed.
He stopped walking before turning toward them. It was two of the newest recruits
I blink, but the blackness I feel is clouding my vision doesn’t fade or flicker. I am still looking directly in front of myself, staring at the corner of the red tennis table, covered and sullied by my various paraphernalia and sewing equipment. My vision is tunneled and although the lights are on and energy is flowing through the room I reside in, I feel dark and dead from the diaphragm out.
It’s a strange sensation to feel your body through layers. Invisible layers of dissonance that withhold you from appreciating who you are. Aware of time’s relativity, day and night merge as the consciousness does not rest. In various s
It was fluttering five miles a minute as she yanked and pulled at the gnarled metal. Tears stained her cheeks as she pulled pieces of glass from the scene and threw them a few inches away. Her heart jumped into her throat as she finally managed to get through the mangled car wreck. Blood dripped down her face as she noticed her own injuries at that moment. Her heart palpitated in an increase. Nothing prepared her for the worst of her imagination. She felt it beat in her chest. It wanted to try and explode from her chest. She placed her hand where her heart was located before crouching to the ground as she sobbed. It wasn't fair. It wasn't rig
i'm the stranger
in a strange land
thinking strange thoughts
over strange people
they worship a strange man
who lived in stranger times
strangely came back from death
this son of a strange god
they have strange rules
helping strangers
fearing strangers
hurting strangers
at the same strange time
they have strange places
strange fires and skies
you spend forever strange
it's a strange afterlife
but stranger still
is their strange holy house
where no matter how strange
all strange sins are forgiven
if you ask strangely enough
if you are strange enough
strange like they are
they think it's strange
i'm not their strange
but i ask
who is str
Momma always told us not to talk to strangers
The men who lumbered out of pits in the earth
there skin darkened with coal
there eyes shining through
like diamonds
She didn't have to tell me
as there loud footsteps echoed
through town
"Eyes to the ground, dear"
She'd whisper when
I tried to glance up
They were like monsters
fromt the deepest depths
That is until I spoke to one
I didn't understand classes
or why some folks
had to dig in the earth
and other only to destroy it
I didn't know that we were rich
and they poor
or why mama's skin was perfect
as a new sheet of paper
and the women's
in town was cracked and
tanned in stories
I couldn't d
Invisble as ghost,
these strangers
Wanders reluctantly
to nowhere
In the sight of night,
these strangers lumber through here
Who'll ever wonder
where they are to?
We meet again, or rather we don't meet.
I see you from across the room and perhaps our eyes meet like they have once or twice before.
I can hear the muffled undertone of conversation about me to the people around you.
I can't really tell whether its good or bad.
All I know is this, that dear, you may be only an acquaintance to my eyes but you're no stranger to my thoughts.
As a matter of fact I'd even be willing to say that you're the sole resident of my heart.
And while I feel as though all of that brings me closer to you.
Closer to knowing you.
I never will.
Because I'm a stranger to my own emotion, too shy to ever actually talk to you.
Too
is it stranger not to know yourself
for your skin to pinch at your bones
for your face to change every time you speak?
is it stranger to hear your own name
one picked out of a dozen
and forget that it's yours?
is it stranger to be scared of your own mind
parasites worming through your brain
and eating you alive?
or is it stranger that you're a stranger to yourself?
(if you don't know who you are, who will?)
The Fire On The Hill by ClamShellHeart, literature
Literature
The Fire On The Hill
I am looking for the water my lover lies in,
Cold in the shadow of the evening,
He’s a stranger to me, still I search for him,
Where the animals oft are feeding.
He wades there to prove himself devout,
He wades there to prove he is brave,
He wades there all night without coming out,
At mercy of hard teeth, claws and chill waves.
His mother camps on yonder hill
Setting white fire to driftwood and breeze,
When the animals see, their hunger stills
And enchanted, they sink to their knees.
With hope in his heart, he bares the whole night
With his mother’s help, heedless of warning,
He crawls from the pond upon proving his might
To f