otakuplaywright

let's make a miracle.

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jugendliche. by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

jugendliche.

i.) die Bekennende Du bist meine Liebe, meine Engel in der Nacht. Die Sonne scheint so hell fuer uns, du kuesst mich und sagt, "Kannst du bitte halt mein Hand?" Ich kuesse dich, weil ich weiss ich kann. Ich hoffe, du weisst, du bist wirklich schoen. Alles, ich kann sagen ist "ich brauche dich so gern." Meine Liebe fuer dich ist sehr gross, ich bitte zu sein. Immer Ihren Liebling, damit du mein sein. ii.) die Sehnsucht Sie ist so viel staerker als ich. Sie leuchtet den Raum und ich fuehle mich Als wuerde ich tiefer fallen in der Liebe. Ich denke, das sind Liebhaber oder Taschendiebe? Aber sie ist so anders, so perfekt und Art ist. Es schein

the what ifs. by otakuplaywright, literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1 by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1

chapter four saoirse “is astrid your girlfriend?” keillan asked me unexpectedly at our breakfast. i nearly choked on my chocolate milk. “what the heck, kiddo?” i tried to laugh but it just came out really uncomfortable sounding. “of course she isn’t.” “well, was she?” his insight never ceased to amaze me. his eyes were large and intent, as if he’d thought about this for a long time. “what even would make you think that, keillan?” i appeared composed. it was still way too soon for me to answer questions about astrid. “you’ve known me your whole life.

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1 by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1

Chapter Three Astrid The only person that was at home when I arrived back was my sister Brinley, a spoiled fifteen-year-old with a penchant for making my life miserable. She was lying on the sofa Daisy Buchanan-style, sprawled lazily reading a fashion magazine. “You’re home late,” she grumbled, not even having the decency to lift her eyes from the gossip column. “How was your drunken rave last night?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, a smirk on her lips. She genuinely repulsed me. “You didn’t,” I spat gruffly in her direction, wide-eyes full of anger. “You did not see anything

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jugendliche. by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

jugendliche.

a memoir of a butterfly. by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

a memoir of a butterfly.

her memory is like a dead mockingbird. something so beautiful, but remnants scatter in the wind, unable to comprehend whether it was deserved perishing or a mistake. will you remember in twenty years, or twenty months, twenty goddamn seconds, or will she fade like the fluttering feathers of the bird shot down in anguish? can you kiss yourself goodnight because her butterflies will never again land on your fleshy lips? laugh to keep from crying, cry to keep for being numb, pretending her presence was that of a ghost inside a dream. cover your wrists in gauze and guilt to prevent moral infection, feign disinterest when she bites her lips, don't

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1 by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1 by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 2.1 by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 2.1

A Little Bit Like Crazy chapter two saoirse my mother always said god worked in mysterious ways, that i was special and that someday i’d find someone who appreciated my crazy. she died three years ago. i never did find out if that was something sarcastic that she said so i’d laugh during one of my fits or if she genuinely thought i was crazy. astrid never thought that i was crazy. she thinks i’m beautiful. she thinks i’m smart. she doesn’t think that i’m crazy. i didn’t know that i had something wrong with me until i started to believe it. all of these voices? i can hear exactly what they&r

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 1.1 by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 1.1

A Little Bit Like Crazy Chapter One Astrid The cool autumn air lingered slowly through the window crack, and the smell of cannabis still lingered on my shirt. Quin had his arms draped around me, this dumb look on his face as he sighed delicately in his sleep. As he pulled me tighter, all I could think about was the mistake that I had made the night prior. One single lapse in judgment had ruined one of the most beautiful relationships I had ever established, and now I was without Saoirse, the one thing that kept me alive in this world. The whole prior night was a blur to me. I remembered showing up but never leaving, which I must have

the proper way to ride a carousel. by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

the proper way to ride a carousel.

illuminate me, cast your colors of iridescence, incandescent as my sunset and phosphorescent as the radiation pain from my chest, lights blare and will not stop shimmering. is it motion sickness or exasperation that shakes you to your core, just keep pawing at it and you will not fall down as far as you think you will. close your eyes, ocular impairment can help dull the experience, don't be frightened by the ubiquitous lights, hold on tighter, she'll hold your hand closely to her chest, murmur a few breaths as you palpate on this journey that will ultimately get you nowhere. no matter how dark it gets, this empyrean is still your boun

if she were ataraxia. by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

if she were ataraxia.

if i knew exactly how to heal my personal pockmarks i wouldn't call them scars, i'd call them ornamental marring. this is my nocturne, my harmonious calling, a deflection of defection where a serenade just isn't enough to wipe away all the saline-dripping, pungent pretension. they call it grace and glamour, but your pulchritude is appalling, put your airs on chilly and slip me a sweet trifle of your personal piquancy. i bruise more easily than those who treat me delicately, kisses like divulgences, the flesh beside my ear is bitten by your nipping conscience. keep speaking in your subtle sussarations, i'm keen on deciphering what it is

a reminiscent poem about nothing and everything. by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

a reminiscent poem about nothing and everything.

a breath can mean so much more. a fear keeps me from catching it. actually, it's more than fear. an enigma possesses me like the strongest gale. avid dreaming is destroyed by nightmares. bound to be broken sooner or later. breathe your lifeblood into me. can you help me? can't you help me? cancerous thoughts spread like wildfire. cold hands don't hold mine anymore. cough up blood to keep from choking. crying isn't optional--it's recreational. dancing thoughts evade me like fairytales. don't you want to call me? don't you want to keep me? don't you want to save me? doubt is the only thing keeping you from answering. each teardrop is a story. e

a pencil lacking lead is just like an open wound. by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

a pencil lacking lead is just like an open wound.

she doesn't understand the beauty that she's capable of. she can figment the most beautiful picture and not even try, her mind is a blank canvas and her thoughts are like the medium. swish and splash the red paint, blue, oxidize me with your catatonic breath, subtle pencil marks like the veins that pattern your milky, flawed flesh. hide behind your eraser shavings, you always doubt yourself too much, you're incapable of making a mistake, now. sweetness, caress this empty sheet of paper with your carefully chosen words and help me heal the insulting that had been caused from all injury. take your pen and etch indelible phrases into your apho

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Love by Darion3k, literature

Literature

Love

Once upon a time There was a pretty guy His name was quick and short But full of crests and thoughts. Lonely but in time Became the secret mine My gate to other world My only special one The smile is all I ask But there is too much trust The feelings which have grown Can only ask for more No other special mine Can have these many sings The gifts and presents mine The truest love of life There is too much to say But know this only much I love thee soso much So much it tempts me hard Whatever will must happen There is so much I want But desire only you Growing and heating the insides of me To hold you in my arms To feel your breath in clo

Writer's Oath by Feanor-the-Dragon, literature

Literature

Writer's Oath

As a writer, I swear on my word and my honor to do my best, To always strive for the unobtainable; To not only reach for, but to walk among the stars; To never lose the awe and wonderment of life, And to see the world, if only for a moment, with the simple faith and wonder of a child; To kindle the flame of imagination within the hearts of all whom I come into contact with; To never scoff at the whimsical; To keep a hearty belief in dragons and fairies burning strong in my heart; To believe that giants can be slain, and evils vanquished; To not merely search for a hero in dark times, but to seek to be one; To look ever to my friends for inspi

Little Black Couch by callerofcrows, literature

Literature

Little Black Couch

A half-hearted stare at the zen garden has me wondering "What're you doing here?" I am an oxymoron, the clinically depressed optimist who cries with frustration when her shadow overtakes the sun. It's the same color as the little black couch where a bespectacled Buddhist with a Ph.D quizzes me to the tune of a white-noise generator, but all I can focus on is the tissue box and the prayer beads 'round his wrist, how prayer helped a little, and I'm terrible for killing so many trees with my tissues, his books, those beads on my rosary. And it makes me wonder When I started playing Jonah; feeding this fish until it swelled into a whale, swall

Indelible Thoughts by InsanePacladyFriend, literature

Two-Toned by callerofcrows, literature

Literature

Two-Toned

Sepia, like you, it's pronounced two ways. Seep-ee-ah. Long, slow, a sleepy murmur drawn. It reminds me of your patience when you held me as I sobbed into your scarf, your voice leaving me warm, brown along the edges. Sep-ee-ah. Short. Curt. A sterner picture of soldiers long dead, a reprimand. A glare. This is how you tell me I'm wrong-- sharp as a bayonet, the edge of your mouth a gun. Warm. Sharp. Tight-eyed. Welcoming. I could hold it in my mouth either way, and you are both.

Maybe, it's okay to not be okay. by slipcast-chrysalism, literature

Literature

Maybe, it's okay to not be okay.

i. Their lungs collapse, Their hearts in their throat. Walking along the suffocating crowds, You hear their voices fade. How are they supposed to breathe again? ii. Their laughs come easy. They’ve learned to deal with it. But how do you shut out the voices in your head? It’s not okay. You’re not okay. iii. Their bright unblinking eyes, Masking the sorrows behind their smiles. Even fairy tale characters would be jealous, Of the strength within those tiny shoulders, Who carry the pain, But still keep moving. iv. And Maybe. Maybe, sometimes, it’s okay to be not okay. Maybe It’s okay to break down and cry. Mayb

Hero by funnygirlygirl99, literature

Literature

Hero

I can't take it anymore Why do some just sit back And watch it happen They think it's not about me I don't need to do anything Some might think that it's fun It's something I like doing No one really cares about this person People thinks it's okay to bully To put someone down for who they are Hurting someone for no reason Just because you don't like them You don't like how they walk or talk What they like or dislike And you don't like them as a person You may think that their life is not worth it So you go on in life being cruel You know what I think of people People who like to bully someone they don't like

Of Suicides and Sunsets by callerofcrows, literature

Literature

Of Suicides and Sunsets

I recognized his newsprint face between the World War II vet and the cancer patient. Yesterday he passed me by, his expression as grey as the city block, and I wondered who he was for half a thought before admiring the sun, resting red between the mountains. I contemplated verbal possibilities, drawing his attention to the sky in the hopes of seeing some of the color reflected in his eyes. But like the space between footsteps, I was silent. My lack of words is found in a paragraph expressing visiting times and floral donations, and I find myself reading between the black and white, because "unexpected passing" tastes

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A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 1.1 by otakuplaywright, literature

Literature

A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 1.1

otakuplaywright

About otakuplaywright

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

July 19
United States
Deviant for 14 years
www.facebook.com/Shadowz.Otaku
She / Her

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My Bio

Okay. I know that no one reads these, so I'll keep this short and sweet. I'm a quirky bookworm with an obsession of poetry, indie music, and Broadway shows. I enjoy writing. A lot. Also: I have the dearest friends in the world, whom I love greatly and would die without.

I guess if you'd like to know more, you could follow me. *grin*

Favourite Visual Artist

Andy Warhol, Frida Kahlo, Henri Matisse

Favourite Movies

The Rocky Horror Picture Show, West Side Story, The Breakfast Club, The King's Speech, Away We Go, Juno, Imagine Me & You

Favourite TV Shows

Glee, New Girl, Breaking Amish, Tales from the Crypt, American Horror Story, Arrested Development, The Big Bang Theory, Portlandia

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

I'm a music buff. Don't make me choose.

Favourite Books

To Kill a Mockingbird, Catcher in the Rye, This Side of Paradise, The Voyage Out, A Clockwork Orange, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, The Harry Potter series, The Diary of Anne Frank

Favourite Writers

Robert Frost, Sylvia Plath, JD Salinger, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Allen Ginsberg, Walt Whitman, Henry David Thoreau, Virginia Woolf, Harper Lee

Favourite Games

Scrabble, Boggle, and Clue--I'm old-fashioned.

Favourite Gaming Platform

I don't really play video games.

Tools of the Trade

Reeves acrylics; Strathmore recyclable paper; Microsoft Office 2010; Prismacolor color pencils and pastels; my imagination

Other Interests

sleeping, binge-watching musicals, baking cupcakes, owls, jazz music, classic lit

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otakuplaywright

Jan 27, 2014

year two.

0 min read

it has been one year since i have spoken to her. one year that i haven't held her hand or laid next to her or kissed her forehead between class periods. it has been one year since she had caressed my scars and told me to get better for her. it has been one year since anyone has ever said they loved me in that sort of connotation--the serious type. it has been one year since her. one year since i realized how empty my life was without her in it, one year since i thought she was my Forever Person. my life has gotten better, sure, but it's still lacking one thing. her. she's not there even though she's omnipresent. i just want to hold her again.

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otakuplaywright

Sep 2, 2013

i don't normally do this but--

0 min read

i don't usually celebrate the anniversaries of my poems but this one is rather special. today is the anniversary of my piece "if i decided to kill all the butterflies." this poem was essentially my suicide note. and here i am one year later. there have been a lot of ups and downs in the year that followed this poem, complete with heartbreak and backstabbing and relapses on self injury. there has been turmoil and lust and me cutting all ties from the causes of that. i want a fresh start. and even if she helped me and made me feel special the DAY after this poem was written, i can finally say that after a YEAR i don't need her anymore.

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otakuplaywright

Aug 30, 2013

new manuscript for real this time.

0 min read

for real! i've started a manuscript told in two-person perspective called "a little bit like crazy." it's basically the progressive flashback of a tumultuous, complicated, and severe friendship between two high school seniors named astrid and saoirse, and how their relationship is broken and rekindled from their first meeting in their freshmen years up until the night after their graduation. the condensed nature may make it fast paced, but i really do believe i have a winner in this one. i actually like where i'm going with it. :heart: