Made from blood and carnage
Only shall the darkest rise
None to be spared in this wreckage
Save for the souls of innocents
The time is near
Every fear building to life
Revenge of the monster so bittersweet
Sheets/FrerardGerard's fingers ached from all the emails he'd typed that day. His head was pounding. His mouth was dry, and he was pretty sure he was coming down with something. Frank was out of town, and had been for two weeks on business, so there wasn't even some snuggling and tickle fights to look forward to upon stumbling into the apartment, deadbeat and exhausted. He leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. Only an hour left, he told himself. Only an hour before you can curl up in bed.
The car ride home was excruciating. Gerard's head was throbbing so horribly, he couldn't even stand to listen to the radio. The purr of the engine was too loud. He thought his head was going to explode.
He pulled into the driveway, parked next to Frank's car that had just sat for two weeks, and would sit for another, until Frank came home. A dull ache rooted itself in Gerard's chest. He missed his Frank more than he'd ever admit. He missed coming home to snuggles and movies and half-decent meals that h
Protection Reflection - PrologueProtection Reflection: Prologue
How did parts of us get trapped in the mirror? Pixels part of a whole being pressed into reflective glass. Grains of sand that didn't seem so important when they were stolen from the beach. They never seem important until half the shoreline is gone.
Is it the same way with people?
Or the opposite?
Do we seem important when we are reduced to almost nothing, half of the person we used to be, and half the blinding tears we've cried?
Or are we important when we finally manage to pull everything together and glue the puzzles pieces down?
Don't we all wish we knew the answer to that?
But no one holds the answers. And we're still stealing sand to make glass--windows, doors, mirrors.
Sheets of reflective glass, showing what you really are. Outlining all the visible flaws. Hiding all the ones that crawl under your skin, waiting to be discovered. Displaying physical scars like billboards on skin, screaming "I'm not perfect". But neither are you.
His Return 2Frank stalled; there was no way Gerard just said that. There was no way those two words just came out of the taller man's mouth, released into the open air. Gerard watched him, eyes absorbing every detail--the new tattoos, the hauntingly nostalgic look in his eyes, the way his hands twitched with nerves. Gerard's breath was locked in his chest; it refused to be let out and replaced. Just as his heart would not let Frank go, would not let Frank be replaced.
"Wh-what?" Frank finally stuttered out.
"I said 'marry me.'" came Gerard's reply, whilst he shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets. His voice almost stuck in his throat, barbed and deadly, but he forced them through his teeth; they were too important to not be said.
"I can't marry you."
Frank stared at the man--there was no way that he could marry Gerard. That would blow up in his face later on in life... But why did he feel like he needed to say yes? Even after all these years, he felt so inclined to accept t
To Whom it May Concern - Chapter 1 (I Am Me)To whom it may concern:
I am me.
I tell that to everyone. No one seems to get it though; it’s like some foreign language now. They’ll ask you who your role model is, and what you’re doing to be just like them. I’ll tell them Gerard Way or Billie Joe Armstrong and they’ll go “oh the guy from that emo band” or “the guy that ‘fell off the wagon.’ Nice choice.” It’s kind of sickening, to have someone you met five minutes ago put down the person that inspires you to be you. Kind of hurts too. To know that someone can’t see past the surface, or the amount of drinks someone’s had in the past few months. Yeah, they’ve gone through some crap, but guess what, they got through it. That’s what matters.
It’s frustrating, to be put down. To be told you aren’t good enough. To see everyone staring at you like you’re an alien, or a lion that’s going to eat them.
I walked into s
When It's TimeWhen It's Time
I sit alone in my bedroom,
Staring at the walls.
I've been up all damn night long.
My pulse is speeding,
My love is yearning.
I hold my breath and close my eyes and...
Dream about him.
Cause he's 2000 light years away.
He holds my malachite so tight so...
Never let go.
Cause he's 2000 light years away,
I sit outside and watch the sunrise,
Look out as far as I can.
I can't see him, but in the distance,
I hear some laughter.
We laugh together.
I miss you.
I miss you too. Though our time together was short. Hopefully we'll meet again someday and have more time to get to know one another in person.
Wherever you go,
You know I'll be there.
If you go far,
You know I'll be there.
I'll go anywhere,
So I'll see you there.
You name the time,
You know I'll be there.
I'll go anywhere,
So I'll see you there.
I don't care if you don't mind.
With Love, Your Valentine - Valentines Oneshot
With Love, Your Valentine
A crash downstairs woke Gerard from his sleep. He rubbed at his eyes with fisted hands, and sat up in bed, blanket and sheets pooling in a wrinkled mess around his waist. The crash didn't alarm him--it was probably just the dog running around and being a dumbass again. It didn't bother him anymore; Rocky probably just wanted to go out. He threw a glance at the empty space beside him, then to his phone. He clicked the lock button and the lock screen came up: 4:28a.m., February 14th. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Valentines Day.
Gerard swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbed his phone, and tugged on his old Vans. He slid his jacket on and headed for the bedroom door. These lonely nights were simply a routine, one that Gerard didn't particularly enjoy or like. He just wanted to be able to sleep in on his days off. Was that too much to ask? He thought not, but apparently Rocky thought that idea was ridiculous, for he was scratchi
I Find MyselfI find myself in my bedroom walls,
Silent and ever watchful.
I find myself in the worn living room floors,
Beaten down until used to it.
I find myself underneath my bed,
Understanding that I am my own monster.
I find myself looking at the door,
Wondering when it will open.
I find myself peeping through the window,
But night leaves nothing in my sight.
I find myself in old conversations,
My heart finally still.
I find myself stamped into black words,
Wishing for white paint.
I find myself in moonlight,
And beg for the sun.
I find myself in a dream,
After all of this nightmare.
I find myself crying,
Because you are still there.
I find myself hoping that this,
This is the last time.
I find myself turning from you,
There is no use lying.
I find myself smiling,
I find myself a lost cause,
I always find myself
Waiting for you.
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
her beautiful words
and telling her to
keep it down,
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
Rising from the ashesI sank down
All the way to the bottom
And I thought
I'd never rise again
But I've found my way
I relied on great friends
I fought hard
And even if I still have
A long way to go
I'll keep trying
I will survive
School is endingGood bye, dear school,
Good bye, and thank you
For all knowledges you gave
Good bye, dear school yard,
Good bye, and remember -
Our memories will stay with you
Good bye, dear teachers,
Good bye, and please -
Keep pieces of our souls
In your hands.
Bring our past,
Bring our childhood
And share with sucessors
There was a time
when he had long, curly hair
to rival that of any
his father called him
"My little Princess"
but he was always a
Prince, and couldn't see
why his Mother did not
There were two times
where he went to a church
once for a Christmas service and
he couldn't understand how
"God is love," when he
had been cursed with a body
not his own -
another a few years later
when his outside
matched his inside,
but they turned him away
still claiming that
"God is love," and he
still couldn't understand
how that was possible.
There were three times
when other boys at school
followed him home cursing
every bone in his body,
calling him names, there
was one with blue eyes
who had a knife and left him
and the nurses in hospital
called him the wrong name -
at night he cried bitterly
about the world's ignorance.
There were four times
when he wondered if there
was a special heaven
for boys like him and,
hoping there was,
I couldn't see the consequences-
As I tried to trust my heart
I just couldn't resist-
The blind love that ceased my wars
Helping me let go of the struggles-
That I foolishly held in my hands
I freed the thoughts that quarreled-
Tears fell in order for me to stand
Truth can be the worst enemy
Lies can be the strongest ally
Harmony isn't immune to tragedy
Because you made a myth out of your apparent humanity
Mistakes can never be renamed! / Scars can never be erased!
Compassion is used as bait! / Two sides to every face!
A piece of peace is caged! / Watch the bridge burn away!
I'll desecrate the meaning of “passion”
You redefined my every moral
There will be no hesitation
I won't need anyone -anymore-
I ignored the risks-
Of handing over my hope
Killed by a kiss-
Turning my world to stone
I believed in your deceit-
And I fell too hard
My mind endlessly screams-
It Was Never You...It really wasn't...
And I know that I can twist this truth as much as I want...
Whenever I'm sober, when I know I can put up that fake plastic smile;
Just a few formal words that burn like acid from a liar's lips!
"Differences in personality, a divergence in ideals..."
Please, fucking, SPARE ME!
Because when I look in this mirror, I know.
When I see myself looking back at me, I know.
Right here, right in front of my own blackened self;
Those eyes that both reflect and stare into my dingy soul.
I was the problem.
I was the instigator.
I was the perpetrator.
And when I had broken every last bit of her,
I was the one, who let it all fall to pieces.
So please, you don't have to feel sorry for me,
I am a bastard and I've got a very special place in hell waiting for me...
- Word of Chen, Darkest Hour, 16th February 2015
The Bright Side of DyslexiaI was born with auditory dyslexia.
I once heard of someone who wrote, directed, and coastguard in their own movie.
I knew what the right word was, but it still got me thinking:
About the invigorating music of waves crashing against my vessel,
The challenge of serving to the best of my skills,
The pride of keeping the shores of my homeland safe.
That was how I found my career,
And it's been just as rewarding as I had hoped.
An episode of CSI mentioned literature marks on the vic's neck,
Which inspired a fulfilling side project of poetry.
In a later CSI, taunts were exchanged:
"I'm the king of the jingle here! You don't stand a chants!"
"That's what you think! This isn't my first radio!"
(It wasn't a very well-written episode.)
Anyway, with that I tried adding tunes to my rhymes.
The result was better than I expected;
A local morning show even played one of my works on the radio!
My girlfriend told me she needed a shoulder to crayon.
This inspired me to