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Making BerthThe Doctor stood in the lamplight, outside a pub in vacant London. False snow clung to his hair, and his breath whirled visibly in the cold breeze. Christmas night Hed had to come here, after all hed lost. Had to see what hed done, the 6 billion people hed saved To prove that it was worth it. Even if hed never believe it himself.
6 billion and 3. His subconscious countered. He had to see them and feel them and bathe in their goodness, their magnificence. Had to convince himself to go on, for their sakes. For Martha. For Jack. For Rose. For all the others out here Surviving. Living.
And for Astrid. For Adric. For all the beautiful people tossed to the wayside- unnamed, unknown, all with their beautiful futures that The Doctor had marred beyond recognition. Those who had been brave and good, those he couldnt save Whose faces hed see every night, every blink, behind his eyelids.
They all thought the doc
FearGranny Crane lived next to a graveyard.
In a small trailer park near the Gotham church. They lived there partially because the rent was cheap, as the funereal location was less than alluring, and partially because Granny Crane liked being so close to the church. Jonathan didnt mind, even if she would drag him there daily to confess the sins she believed him to be festering in. No, Jonathan didnt mind, because sometimes, at dusk, when Granny was gently snoring with her drinks and her stories, he could sneak out and weave through the gravestones, with the amber autumn sun at his back, then the rising harvest moon.
Jonathan was afraid of many things, but he didnt fear the dead. In all his time at the graveyard, no ghosts had plagued him, and that was more than young Jonathan could say for the living. He was afraid of the living- of the bullies who beat him blue and shouted names, of his grandmother who drank and swore and called the devil down on his bastard head, of bir
Going HomeThis isnt exactly what I imagined when you suggested fighting across the constellations. The Master said, gazing out at the broad expanse of universe surrounding them. The two Time Lords lay suspended in the TARDIS protection field, on an asteroid, a few scorch marks its final testimony to the planet it had burst from only moments ago. In the light of the supernova they talked like old friends and old enemies, because what's the need for titles after all they had been through? They were themselves, and each other, and the last. The Master turned.
Why did you do it? Images of The Doctor racing back and forth, cradling the bleeding time lord to his chest. Into the TARDIS, smash controls, keep him breathing until you get to god-knows-where.
Im The Doctor. Cheeky. And you very well know why.
Its nice to hear.
I need you. Just as much as you need me.
You knew it was me,
Echoes of Rain -Death Note-Rain pounded the pavement in hard, wet drops; not a playful summer shower, no, not this. This was harsh, stinging, biting rain, without relent, without forgiveness. This was the rain that stuck hair to your face and made you feel soaked and abandoned, hopeless and alone.
Matt never minded the rain.
Matt was nothing; He was a shell. Lost, adrift, empty- floating dimly through a wasteland of disenchantment, barely taking any of it in, barely even there. A sharp mind, a quick wit with no purpose, no destination. Dark goggles shrouded apathetic eyes, just another barrier between himself and the world, himself and caring.
A long drag of a cigarette, a fleeting wonder about how it even stayed lit in this weather. Fleeting, yes, that was Matt. Always moving on, glancing away, no time to get bored, no time to care. He twirled a key ring around his index finger like a helicopter- little things. It almost made him feel human.
Brushing wet auburn hair from his eyes, Matt trudged up the steps to h
The boys body fell to the pavement with a thud. He groaned, pulling himself off the grimy sidewalk as he half-heartedly gestured at the bouncer whod thrown him from the bar. His vision swam violently as he attempted to walk, now thoroughly drunk. Clambering loudly through the silent midnight streets, his long, threadbare trench coat swaying in the howling autumn wind, the boy ducked into a dark alley- maybe hed be able to find an almost-stable fire escape to sleep on tonight.
But the boy stopped dead.
In front of him stood a man, tall and menacing and ethereally pale, who looked as though he was locked in a passionate moment with the young woman beside him. The boy gasped loudly, however, when he saw the thin stream of blood dripping from the womans neck. At this sound, the intimidating figure turned, dropping the girls body unceremoniously onto a pile of trash.
The boy cried- a quiet, strangled sound. He couldnt move- The mans wi
Words That We Couldn't Say
Words That We Couldn't Say
Vicious' long fingers wrapped around the neck of the vodka bottle, bringing it to his pale lips for another swig. He was dimly aware of his surroundings, that he was laying half-frozen on a moth-eaten bed in some slummy motel. The icy Callistan wind bit brutally from the open window, but Vicious didn't care. Didn't care if he died, alone, in this rat-infested hell hole. In fact he hoped for it.
He took another swig.
The syndicate had disbanded. The organization he'd pledged his life to was gone. Gone, in an instant. In a blink of an eye, the past fifteen years of his life meant nothing. There was nothing left for him now.
He took another swig.
Vicious didn't really know why he came to Callisto. He'd driven here on emotional autopilot after he'd gotten the news of the Syndicate. He dimly supposed it was because the last time he was here was the last time he'd actually felt.
Vicious grimaced. That name brought up feelings better left unsaid.
CancerI remember the time that you touched the stars
Stark white, skin-tight; they hit you too hard
With a splintered cry, falling from sulfurous Mars
And the Fates ran screaming back into the dark
I remember the sound
The thrum and the pound
I remember the morning you woke in blood
When the lies in your eyes were unbearably rough
And the marks of the hypocrite far from enough
'Til you wept as Moses e'er fires and flood
I remember your song
You thought you were strong
I remember much further than Man ever dreams
You forced out your flesh, and I wept at the screams
The soul and the sorrow to memory clings
A light in the night, like Insanity, beams
I'll remember your cry
'Til the day I, too, die
Go Sing the Night to SleepWhy do you wear a heavy brow
And keep your eyes upon the ground
While wishing rain would come fall down
Go sing the night to sleep
Can't rest, you say, too much to think
Though as you ponder, eyelids sink
Your mind is slipping to the brink
The clouds roll in, gray-blue
I've lost it all, you whisper last
I lost it all, I lost it fast
Theres nothing in the net I cast
Slipping stars, a cover of dew
Rain can't wash away your grief
But can it bring you some relief?
Rinse away your false belief
The night sings through the rain.
It beats your back, bleeds through your shirt
It finds the wounds that ache and hurt
Rinse out the blood, the puss, the dirt
Moon hid to not get wet
Now rest your eyes, and go to sleep
There's nothing left for you to keep
Inside, no point for you to weep
Rain dances come the night.
Express YourselfAn opinion is not a fact,
It’s a way of expressing what you believe,
Some people just overreact,
And they do nothing else, but deceive.
You either concur or deviate,
People’s beliefs deserve a lot of respect,
Everyone has a right to differentiate,
It doesn’t necessarily mean they are correct.
A person’s view could be knowledgeable,
Just appreciate what someone has to state,
An opinion doesn’t have to turn into a debate,
It’s a shame when people are intolerable.
I wish the world could be a better place,
For the entire human race,
A place where we can care,
A place where everyone is fair.
Now before you go on and criticise,
An opinion is not a fact,
It’s a way of expressing what you believe.
StoriesWhen you walk by
and see someone,
do you ever wonder
about the story behind that person?
What put them on the road
to where they are now in life?
How did they gain their fame and glory
or why are they filled with pain and strife?
That homeless man
lying there in the street
may have at one point
served in our naval fleet.
When he came home,
his wife had divorced him
and that is the very thing
that completely destroyed him.
Then there's that secretary
who's flirty boss is her pet peeve,
and you may wonder
why she doesn't just leave.
Her family is poor.
They need the money.
So she is stuck with that job
and her boss's promiscuity.
Of course there's that boy
who sat in the corner
and the girl who spoke to him
despite what they told her.
Many years later,
they are happily married
and have two kids
named Robert and Sherry.
Every person you see
has a story to tell
about how they reached heaven
or how they're damned to hell.
So the next time someone
talks about their life,
UndecidedPandora's box of love's young dream;
Hopeless hearts preserved, pristine;
Airtight nightmares, crystal-clean;
That fall or fly or wait unseen.
In our dreams, we make excuses;
Hopeless hearts with hopeless ruses;
Ballpoint hearts around our muses;
Not to know is what she chooses.
Waiting boxes stand to blame;
She'll never ask, for fear of shame;
To choose one path would end this game
And stake her life on chance's name.
Three words to him she'll never say;
While she can dream, it's all okay.
Preserve a dream for one more day;
Now turn your feet
And walk away.
cursethe glass's sand, to our chagrin,
spills fast away and ne'er again
will life subsist as it has been;
may you live in, may you live in...
we're forced to watch forces align,
to our communal world malign
and lay to waste our plans contrived;
int'resting times, int'resting times...
The fence in my yardThere’s a fence in my yard
My father taught me to build
With a gate in the front
And a back strong-willed
Where the inside and outside
Love and hate of the world collides
Just like my face
It has two sides
One of welcome and safe inclusion
One of absolute defiant seclusion
Both built to last paid with sweat
Nails driven with pounding regret
But isolation has left this yard alone
The laughter of my children echo no more
Because as they all matured
They walked out the door
Sins of the MaskedBetween the face
And its reflection
Twixt the dream
And its inception
Falls the Lie
Our Father, who art in Heaven
Between the twilight
And the waking
Twixt the longing
And the taking
Falls the Lie
Give him a mask
Between the reason
Twixt the truth
And the confusion
Between the spark
And the illusion
Falls the Lie
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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