Muse 105: the tales never win

found via colour lover

I'm real, like I'm alive, like something no one else is able to do for me. You look at me strange, like I'm abnormal, like I need help or desperate measures of medication, and in comparisons of metaphors and similes, it could be ounces of truth. When you don't follow the rules, play ball in the house, vases break. Hearts shatter when fairy tales don't play in order. In real life, the step mother wins, the prince is ugly to the bone and nothing is real except for the pains and scars the hurt me. Don't keep it inside, and don't let the fairy tales win. You look at me strange because you're afraid of me; you're afraid of my scarred arms because I let them show while your insides have been all cut up.

Muse 103: Influential

found via tametheseas

I looked at the numbers one to ten on my little notepad. The first five were real things I had to do - Get good grades, spend more time with the family... but the other five were things I made up just to make my life look more exciting. The book told me to make a to-do list every morning. They said after crossing a number out, I would feel more accomplished than before, and slowly the mentality would affect my daily life where I would be this successful, organized business woman. My mother was the one who recommended this book to me. She got it off a list from the New York Times bestseller, which she started reading because of her socialite friend. And I sat, looking at my list, wondering how far back this stupid chain of authority went and realized it all ended with Oprah. Fucking hell. I scratched out my entire list and wrote at the top: Be influential. 

Muse 102: Helen

found via unknown

I wonder how Helen feels, not the one in our class, no, Helen of Troy. I want to think of her heart as gold, because only beautiful faces come from a pure heart. In the mirror, I don't see beauty or pleasure - but I've had riots and grudges held against me. I wonder how the face that drew a thousand armies, a thousand boats and battles between the gods did it. How does it feel to be the one cause of a war? How does it feel to be the one responsible for a thousand lives, generations of blood? How does it feel to watch from your tower? How does it feel to be rewritten as a selfish, spiteful woman? But most of all, I want to ask her.  How does it feel to not be able to be with the one you love?

Muse 100: The Blame Game

found via weheartit

The night I died, I felt my eyes pushed to a close by a pair of warm hands and wanted to resist it. I didn't want the cold to take me, but death wasn't a choice. Then there was a sudden exhale and I knew I was no longer the same, like my body had breathed me out, birthed me out after all the pain I had endured. I came face to face with a light streaming through several doors, but the room itself was dark, only illuminated and hinted towards the outside world. I wandered towards the light, and found the doors locked. As I shook the handle, a voice echoed through the small room.

You cannot go outside.

I frowned. Who are you to tell me what do to? And I realized that this was God speaking, the same God that allowed evil, disasters, sickness, death and sorrow. I looked up, but he wasn't there. You would throw people out of your home because they won't chose you. I continued to search the ceiling, but he wasn't there, not even a voice box. If he was the light, then I could make do with the dark. Of course, he heard the voices in my head, and whispered in return. He did not have to whisper, his voice was strong and loud regardless. 

I am only giving you what you have chosen all along. 

A world without me, a world to stay as what you know, with me outside.

Muse 94: Show Me Your Scars

source unknown

It was at a M83 concert where we first met. I saw your arms and you saw mine for what they were because we knew that we were the same. For the first time, it wasn't the jarring words that were accusing or degrading but ones that expressed genuine interest as you smiled at raised your hands, showing me that just as well, you were in pain too. I looked around us and we all looked the same. Our arms had scars, lines of youth, where blood had run down. Once upon a time we hurt and then we healed. Improperly though. 

People look at me sometimes, on the street at my arms that scream out for attention because that's all I wanted. And now I found you in a crowd of everyone that was alike, with scars, with baggage and so very much alike. We all wore wristbands, wore band tees and Converse shoes, but somehow I got your attention anyway. I showed you my scars and you laughed, showing me yours. 

Muse 58: Easy

found via sea of love

It was hardest in the beginning. The pain and longing hurt her chest much more than she imagined. For a girl that was accustomed to being alone for her entire life, for a girl who declared for an independence separate from men, a strength to prove that she could move mountains, this was a sign of pure weakness. It was especially worse the first time, like a druggie just getting used to living without drugs, she couldn't imagine her days without him. But then it got easier. She began to notice that his presence faded as the days passed, and she missed him less and less. It was easy. Like death.

Muse 53: Ill

found via we heart it

"You need a bath," she said, noting the dry scales on his hands. "We can take one after this show finishes. I know how much you like Jeopardy." He gazed at the unblinking screen as if the blue fluorescent glow had mesmerized him, but there was too much sunlight for that to be possible. Nevertheless, she continued to work around him with her scrubs' strings hanging loosely by her side. She took a wet cloth and started working at his feet, wiping at the dust that had collected into a fine layer. Dust does fall and stick over whatever cannot move.

Muse 41: Thirsty

found via jessieroth

They slid down her fingers and into the deep cup that her palms formed, slipping through to where she couldn't catch them again without spilling everything else. In her perfect red dress, she looked up innocently and lifted her hands to my lips. I drank from her hands until there was nothing left for her to give.

Muse 36: Enchantment

found via loveyourchaos

"Everyone is waiting for it, you know?" she said, then licked her finger without missing a beat. The sliding drip of ice cream disappeared into her mouth, and the finger reappeared, pink and wet like a newborn child. Her actions are always so pure, completely natural. Every time she moved, the slight change in the air always brought her scent closer to my nose. She smelled sweetly, an entirely unintentional mixture of happiness and promise in one, of unadulterated joy, a freshly crushed grape from the first frost. And her hand, still wet, came down right next to mine as she took it gently, laughing at the strange sensation of her saliva cooling in the savannah heat. "I'm glad I don't need to wait."

And to keep the magic intact, I don't ask for clarification.

Muse 35: VCR

found via stephanie chan

More than anything, I... I mean, I feel the soft cotton flex underneath my empty, sweltering palm as the blue rays from the television try to eat the flesh off my face. Blankly, letting the tungsten light blink for me, I try to figure out why I am sitting alone with my hand exactly where you should be.

Where have you gone? We were together once, somewhere in time.

There's a possibility I crushed you somewhere underneath my fat ass hand. So I lift my hand, scared that I'm suffocating you, but you're not underneath the mess I've crumpled. This is psychotic, but I learned a trick from the senior that taught me about sex. My numb arm retracts from underneath my thighs, and I move it, not feeling a thing. You can break the heart on my sleeve and I won't know the pain. All I think about ... I stroke the back of my own hand to pretend that this Sleeping Beauty touch belongs to you. I don't know a more fucked up way of missing you.

Muse 31: Tinkling

found via flickr

I wanted every copy to remind me of my youth. Every unbroken page, perfect before the breath of adulthood, would be just as fresh to the touch, like the very first novel of Barrie's I took up. My eyes flickered frantically across the page, consuming each word with a fierceness only age could give a person. As if the pages, the story, the magic dust could disappear as easily as youth. Budding with excitement, I straightened my back as the island invited me deeper into plain Indian lands and jagged Skull Rock. Lost Boys weaved me through the twisted forest, and I ran for miles without every growing tired. I flew across oceans on kites, with no fear of death, to greet the sun with a loud crow. Then, like the stabbing daggers of Hook's evil, the knowledge that every page led me closer to the pending ending wretched my stomach with bile, but I could not stop - I do believe in fairies, I do. I do. Surviving whips and lashes of the battle on the Jolly Roger, I cried as the pages brought me back to the darling window. The tears fell incessantly when Pan returned, just as he did each time, never to remember Tinkbell and the adventures that had been had. To die would be an awfully big adventure, but to die is better than to forget. Maybe tomorrow, there will be another copy sitting on the shelves for me, for that is all how far I dare to travel when it comes to Neverland.

Muse 25: Existence

found via weheartit

In a sea of shapeless, shadeless greenery, the brown box dropped slowly into a hole of oblivious existence. The finality in the wires creaking, the ropes itching and worldly physicality itself threatens to let the coffin drop with a disrespectful thud. But what is inside is not human. He is alien. He is a wax replica of the man I love - a filtered, massacred replacement to comfort my soul, and I must reject it. My attendance is merely symbolic; my mind is distantly near - Do you think that when people die, their corpses shrivel up because something beautiful has been forcibly sucked out of it? It's like the form itself suffers an inexplicable loss, so complicated and violent, like the shape has been raped and must be reassembled by human hands for the sake of soothing the human mind. We make, we exist, and we lose.

Muse 23: The Good Laugh

found via rachel the photographer

The good laugh is a medication prescribed to those who need it. Description says to intake only when necessary in fear of suspected insanity. The good laugh is a deep, boisterous laughter that is beautiful to all ears - even if the ears that befall it's premises are ears of evil, the good laugh is a musical note that soothes and brings smiles to the face. Somehow, in a befallen world where the only terror is the coming of tomorrow, it is needed for a good laugh. In that firecracker spurt of happiness, all problems are expelled in a forceful thrust. This is the good laugh, and take as much as you want - caution, it is for stress only - home.

Muse 22: Imagination

found via [[Chase]]

Standing in front of him, like the sunset drifting slowly from the high ends of the earth, she brushed through her straightened hair with one hand, smiling with a strange tilt. It was curiously slant, as if the sight of him was something just as wondrous as he. She had crawled out of his imagination, carved right out of perfection - That surprisingly lonely box in the middle of the street contained everything he ever dreamed of. You find what you want best in what no one has found yet.

Muse 21: Beautiful

found via fffound

She was never beautiful, honey, she never was. Your mother was never beautiful but I fell in love with her anyway. Her mismatched socks and antique sense of style. Her dead locks of hair that had curls running wild. The way she smiled when the sun beamed on her face. The way she smiles - and when I looked, so clearly for the first time - that her clashing colors with the uncommonly striped sweater locked so perfectly in tune with mine. I make her beautiful, honey, and I am the only one that ever will. That is why we are perfect for each other still.