Text


I was a broken vase.
Cracked and turned away
from guest’s eyes, no
more than a busted heirloom…
until I met you.

You saw a value beneath
the cracked and chipped
exterior. You looked at me and
saw something worth saving.
You saw me for who I am.

You took me and fixed me,
gave me back the shine I’d
lost through years of lack-lustre
neglect. You instilled life in
me again. And I thank you.

I love you and that has become
the shine that springs from my
Bristol blue face. People look on me
and smile now, as I revel in the fact that
you completed me.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text


I know I’m good for

something. I just

haven’t found it yet.

I always write but hardly

ever read them aloud or

showcase what I create.

I’m an artificer, making 

lies seem like I’m seeking

truth. I make things so

sinful and ugly glimmer

with macabre beauty.

Purely just by dressing

it up in multiple metaphors.

Maybe I should have my

poetic license revoked, just

for a while. Serve a ban or pay

a fine for misleading testimonies.

But it would still be unjust. Its

not me that sits at the smithy,

sharpening words into lethal

weapons with pent-up fury.

No its someone who lives

in the cage at the back

of my head. Someone

mad enough to breach

the lines of good taste

and civility. Its not me that

sits there writing up a suicide

into a work of art. I hold the

pen and he lets the words flow

out onto the paper or word

document. That’s his forte, I’ve

not had the chance to discover

mine… I know I am good for

something, I just haven’t 

found it yet.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text


I’ve been spending my

time sleeping in and

lying languidly in

unwashed sheets.

Daydreaming of being

wrapped around my man

and making love

from dusk til dawn.

Instead I’m stuck

behind computer screens

and in magazines,
 completing
pop culture 
crosswords.

Barely moving from

the mattress for anything

but scraps of food. 
Feeling the urge

to pound out word after

word of poor quality
poetry. Creatively frustrated.

Maybe I should stop

wasting away, losing days

and get outside. Live life

while I can because we

need to fit forever into

our limited time. Stop

feeling sorry for ourselves.

Stand. Walk. Run. Fly.

Time to stop living in

a comfort zone. Leave the

place you call home and

find a way, anyway, to

make life worthwhile.

Make someone smile.

Be who you are really

meant to be and don’t stop

trying to make your

dreams a reality.

Don’t get stuck in your ways,

be amazing.

Be your own hero.

Even if it’s just
for one day.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text


I’ve got a boombox

beating out a pulse,

music surging through

every vein.

I’ve got lyrics in my

Limbic system. Feeling

cadences change in

every corner of my mind

as movements rise and

fall through synapse gaps.

There are chords in my 
capillaries.
I can feel them in

my fingertips as they
dance 
across a dashboard
or tabletop.

Tapping out rhythms to

my favourite songs as they play

through my head.

My life is made of music

and music is part of me, blaring

out from my stereo heart.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text

I gave her a bunch
every month for a year.
Roses, handpicked
by a hopeless romantic.

The thorns slashed
my ungloved, idiotic
hands. Blood-drops landed
on the petals, trickled
down the stems.

Each month, the flowers
grew a deeper shade.
Imbued with blood.
Each month, her smile
faded until the twelfth
bunch arrived on
her doorstep.

That’s when her smile
had become a straight line.
The flowers wilted when
she said it was over.

Now if I catch my finger
on their thorns,
the roses faint.

Photo

So I like Karma Support now.

It was an alright game. A few mistakes combined with Akali and Mundo being away with the fairies at various points in the game. Think my favourite kill was predicting the Zhonya’s coming out from Heimer and then throwing an empowered Q at him just as it finished ^_^

Overall, a 7+ KDA on support the second time you play the champ isn’t exactly a bad thing.

Text


I’m no statistician.

Maths is by no means

my area of expertise.

I couldn’t draw you a

graph, charting my

adoration along the

X and Y axis.

I could not write up

Quadratic Equations or

a mathematical proof

of my love for you.

I’ll write in verse of

it instead. My forte.

I’ll steal from Shakespeare

and compare you to

a Summer’s day. I’ll

scribble my answers

in elevated diction rather than

numbers. Invent new metaphors

to best describe why my heart

yearns for you, so many miles

away.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text


I can feel the trace
of you along my ribs.
Your name engraved
into my bones.

I can feel the static
in your touch. Sending
shocks down my spine.

I can feel your heat
pulsing through my body.
Emanating through
pores. A primal
need arising.

So why are you
so far away? We’re in
spearate beds and
all I can do is
think about lying
next to you.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text

He never meant to drive
so fast. Showing off in front
of friends. Male bravado
and recklessly young.
The sort of age where forgiveness
and permission are interchanged
depending on the situation.
A bright smile stolen.

In one jumped light,
in one moment of stupidity
on the right road
at the wrong time
in the wrong season.

We all found out the next day
and I thought about how I’d watched
the sunset turn the sky from blue
to a gold and red fire. I thought about
how normal everything was while
your world was the same colour,
engulfed in real flames instead
of metaphors.

Ain’t it strange
how beauty and tragedy
can look the same
sometimes?

Text


Scald me. Burn the dirt

from my skin and carry it down

drains or through extractor fans.

Pelt my torso, making indentations

as you drag your nails up my spine.

Drown me in my own filth. Push

me further down and hold me under.

Feel me flail, go limp, inhale water.

Clean me inside and out

and leave me refreshed.

A water-based

confession booth. Absolve me of

my sins and leave me soaked in

the feeling of rebirth.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text

He flew too close to the sun.
His wax wings melted and
the feathers burned.
His wings were a flame
and he made himself
a phoenix, flying higher.
Right up into the
stratosphere. Near God.
Became a shooting streak
in the sky.
Something for mortal men
to wish on at night.
And we all wished that
we could fly as high
as he could.
Flying free.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text


I am the boiled sweet
lodged in your child’s
throat, turning their
skin cyanotic as there
struggle for air.

I am the house fire
that burned through
your worldly
belongings as I
engulfed the family home.
Leaving you on
the streets.

I am the torrential
rains. Bursting river
banks for fun, flooding
small towns and drowning
the foolish ones who
venture out.

I am the incurable
cancer. Tumour wrapped
around your wife’s
brain stem. The promise
of weeks to live when she’ll
be dead by morning.

I am a crisis
and I don’t care
who you are.
Everyone is fair game
in the business
of despair.

Source: tenmilesfromhome
Text

iandsharman:

lilprince:

I have to deal with enough irl, I do not need my dash full of it as well.

He’s already on watch lists for anti-monarchist ideas, please don’t encourage him, the Secret Service will take him away to be re-educated if you do!

This is (probably) not true…

Pretty sure the Royals are like Hypno-Toad from Futurama… Just saying.

Source: lilprince
Text

A shiver
working its way
through each
disc, each
vertebrae of my
spine.

I feel the
chill of loneliness
keenly since
you left. The
memory of a goodbye
fuck to keep
me warm.

Longing to feel
the friction of
hips.
Of lips.
The electricity of
fingertips as
they create
circuit boards from
skin.

The longing for
a last kiss.
One more
“I love you”.

Photo

First game with my new Wukong skin.

Skarner basically camped top all game so I did a little bit of the same and got very ahead by feeding off of Nasus and Skarner. I don’t know how I ended up with the best CS but there you go.

The only thing I didn’t finish was the Trinity Force which would have completed the build.

What do you good people think?