Apocalypse Of Indecision

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Hey. This is my first contribution of work to this site. Be merciless.


Apocalypse Of Indecision

The sky was rising and falling, threatening in way, like the actions of your lungs breathing in the mist. We were laying under it in a field of transparent flowers, wilting and fading with the belief of a better place. The trees on the edge of my sight were swaying but there was no wind. Perhaps they felt the need to leave too. You stood up and beckoned for me to do the same, so I did. I placed my hand in yours. You whispered to me though I heard it clearly above the restlessness of the sky. "This is the end," you said and I knew exactly what you meant.

So hand in hand we ran from the field and through the town we knew as home. It was deserted but for a few birds that had chosen this as their ending. Running never felt so light on my feet and you seemed like you were floating, though the ground still supported you. The bloodshot eyes of the city were no longer stopping traffic, because the traffic had stopped long before it reached that line. We ran down alley after alley searching for a way to get higher. Then as if by some power of the imagination, we found one. We ascended to the top of a building so we could see all that was left behind, and to be the first volunteers when the sky made its choice.

At the apex of desolation that we had chosen we stared into each others eyes, shimmering, like pools of starlight being hit by tiny rock after tiny rock. This was our existence, waxing and waning with my belief in the moon. By now the sun had gone down beyond the lonely hills that formed the horizon, without a goodbye. The sky was still rising and falling, writhing with indecision over whether or not anyone would notice its suicide. It was getting closer to a resolution though. So close I picked a star from it and gave it to you. You accepted it and threw it off the side of the building, just for the joy of knowing you outlived part of the sky.

We had not long left now and we both knew it. We kissed in the last remaining moments of our world and though your lips tasted like ash, it had never been so good. We didn’t care anymore, there was nothing left to lose. My last words to you were, "If this is a dream, then it is a good dream." You pushed your hair out of your face and said to me, "This is a dream," and with that we drifted off into indifference. The sky collided with the earth and I remember nothing more, as there was nothing there to remember.

__________________________________________________________________________

Sorry if i misjudged where to post this piece but I personally think its quite romantic.

-Luke
Gone, gone from New York City,
where you gonna go with a head that empty?
Gone, gone from New York City,
where you gonna go with a heart that gone?




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i like it. i also think it is very romantic. :)
-nanc-

--If you are upset and needing to vent your frustration, pour it out on paper and throw it away.

--I put it down on paper and then the ghost dosen't ache so much.

--I want you to consider the fact that nothing is ever wrong.




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It's very beautiful... :D

I don't have any real critique! darn..you people right too well!
Graffiti is the most passionate form of literature there is.

- Demetri Martin




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absolutely beautiful. the flow of words and their very sound (i felt complelled to read it aloud) are a pleasure.




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You are amazing. Very poetic. It requires good thought to read and write a piece like that. Incredible. Well done.




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Wow. I am ashamed of myself. As a writer I stand firm in my belief that every piece of art, wich writing is definetly, has room for improvement. This peice is of course included, but I can not find it. I am ost in the utter serenity of your characters even though the world is coming to an end. Usually I encourage writers to go beyond what they know as short stories into full blown novels, but this, to me at lest is utter perfection, and I would be heart broken if it were to be tampered with. This is not something I will ever say again. At least not probably.

Until next time, Stay In Love With Love.
When you turn to face the sun, all of the shadows fall behind you.
I used to be Writer97 but that was boring so I changed it. PandaRawr is more me.



rule #1 of being a potato: potatoes gotta defend their friends from negative self-talk
— Spearmint