Young Writers Society

As I stumble onto the stage My shadow walks beside me, without complaint Silent slender feet padding onto the floor Its ankles clinging to my own Wobbly ones, weak from ...

(I just have to keep trying to write) a million lighted pin-pricks on this fortress's bloody facade, blaring a thousand tongues of tarot cards and candy stings that line the ...

“Fuck,” he muttered, slamming the top drawer closed and wrenching the second one open, fingers sifting with brutal purpose through the flotsam. Packages of staples and paper clips, scraps of ...

I've found that the second hand fell from time to the missing person and that one girl remembering everything about him that made the world pause for anything that could ...

i exist within the feelings that cant be expressed, spoken, utterd, articulated Bbecause of this incessent blundering that comes when youre thoudts are the only thing(s) that makes cents to ...

fingersnap, the crackle of fireworks sound gunshots in the icy air. a thousand electrical currents shift with your unspoken words, too heavy with rot, too light to sink into me. ...

Get your fingers off his fucking dick: Oh, it seems so simple to say when we’re drenched in sweat, stuck to benches and watching the club lights flicker us back ...

This is a product of my boredom, and also it could be used for an English thing. So yeah, crit please. Open curtain. BED IN CENTRE STAGE, A WOMEN ASLEEP ...

you fight everything with such futile grace, like a moth beating its wings against a lighted window. in the back room of a locked ward of a hospital built for ...

I'm so pleased...this was hardly whiny at all. This didn't have any glitteringly beautiful imagery (and you know how I love imagery) but it had, as did your other recent ...

I thought it would be fun if I'd post my poem handwritten, as in a picture Holly is refered to Holland If someone Dutch would read this-or someone very familiar ...

my lover, my executioner, my forever; was forgiving in so many ways she tortured me as she willed me with her rare mercy her lusting, her grinding, her spitting; in ...

[Autobiographical: friendly fire?] - Greenwich Village is cold today, colder than one would expect in late August. The sky hangs heavy and lethargic over the city, and the wind that ...

This could've maybe gone in Sci-Fi, but the only thing that puts it there is being set in the future. Enjoy. Chapter One. “Growing reports of vandalism in the Southern ...

A venomous sky pours out a gushing storm with the fierceness of a despot. I listened to the outside, it was so loud. The room was all obscure and dark, ...