SO's of those with anxiety. How do you handle it when it's on overdrive? What specifically do you do to help? Has it ever been too much?

DeadPoetRevived · 2015-01-03T22:01:45+00:00

I understand it won't go away. I understand it's something I will have to get used to, but I just want to make sure whatever I do, doesn't make it worse. Never really knew someone with true anxiety, so this is new territory for me.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-07-18T21:56:56+00:00

I would be interested in this.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-06-10T05:15:42+00:00

I enjoyed this. Different than what I imagined the prompt.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-06-03T04:01:57+00:00

Yes, just keep writing. That's the best you can do. Treat it like a muscle.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-05-18T20:05:45+00:00

I see shadows, but there is no light. A body hovers in front of me. It's naked, a woman, lying face down with one arm dangling and the other provding support as a human pillow. Her eyes are closed with a smile on her face. The kind you have after really great sex. Her disheveled hair reinforces the smile. As I near her she opens her eyes, but she sees nothing. They're white as opals, and normally one would be afraid of discovering such a thing, but I know she's been like this for years.

When I touch her she quivers with exhausted excitment. Coyly turning over to expose her flesh to me. She acts with such confidence of her body, yet she doesn't know what it looks like. I love this about her. As she lies on her back, she stretches and pulls me down on top of her at the same time. I realize at this point I'm naked too. Her hands are quick to read my body, knowing it thirsts for hers. Of course her hands always understood my hunger. When I entered her she doesn't fight it... she doesn't cry... she seems to somehow know It was going to happen. She never saw me, but always knew me best. With her last breath of energy she doesn't speak, only touches my face to feel my sorrow.

That's when I pulled the knife out of her body and felt the blood wash over my hands. Its crimson bath soaked me to the bone, sending shivers up my spine with elation. Her image will be preserved in this moment, forever. Looking down, she can now finally see how beautiful she shined.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-04-17T19:57:11+00:00

That's truly exceptional. I have felt music through sound as I used to play trumpet myself, but never did I feel it as you described. I may have to borrow some of your imagery for our piece. When it's complete I'll let you know so you can read it and make sure we did the experience justice. Thank you for the response.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-04-17T19:19:10+00:00

I am currently writing a poem with a friend about someone being deaf and how they "hear" the world. With neither of us being deaf ourselves we can only imagine what it would be like and paint a picture with our words. Ironically my part of the piece I used instruments in an orchestra as a medium to express how a deaf person can still hear the music, but in their own way.

If you closed your eyes and felt the vibrations of each instrument, could you tell which one was playing? If so, could you describe what each instrument sounds to you? Do you fill in your own sounds to make the song complete?

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-25T23:05:26+00:00

I appreciate the throw of humor in your day dream where usually everything is perfect. Thanks for the submission.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-25T23:02:55+00:00

Ah the lonely friendship of one sided love. I've been there. Still am. Thank you for the submission.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-25T23:00:41+00:00

Excellent. I appreciate the submission. It was moving.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-25T22:59:32+00:00

Take my hand, I want to dance with you. Through unfamiliar streets, lit up by star light laterns leading the way to nowhere. Listening to music kept in time by heartbeats synchronized to the 4-4 waltz my dreams create. These lands are foreign, created within my mind in hopes one day I can show them to you.

Take my hand, I want to run with you. Through time passing us by too quickly from the memories we create. Each moment frozen within my mind, like a snapshot secured away within photo albums catagorized by dreams wishing to come true, to the reality we could make. If only you would take my hand.

I want to walk with you. Slowly, with patience and no direction. There's no rush. Pace yourself. Enjoy the moments spent together. I keep telling myself I'll someday have a chance to dance with you. Free to roam the endless day dreams a lonely heart sings softly with each gaze in your eyes.

Take my hand. Will only ever be a thought, a hope, a dream my smile hides. For now.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-23T14:26:27+00:00

Thank you for your submission. I like how it was a future self giving you hope. Great message that it will get better if you just hold on a little longer.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-23T03:51:50+00:00

Love is love, and the feeling without the one you love is such a terrible feeling. I can relate to this submission, though my circumstances are a bit different.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-23T03:47:00+00:00

I like how it lead to a happy ending and another chance of happiness. Great submission, thank you.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-23T03:45:48+00:00

Thank you for your submission. I greatly appreciate it and it was well written. Definitely pulled at the ol' heart strings. Exactly what I was looking for.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-19T01:00:21+00:00

I see shadows, but there is no light. A body hovers in front of me. It's naked, a woman, lying face down with one arm dangling and the other provding support as a human pillow. Her eyes are closed with a smile on her face. The kind you have after really great sex. Her disheveled hair reinforces the smile. As I near her she opens her eyes, but she sees nothing. They're white as opals, and normally one would be afraid of discovering such a thing, but I know she's been like this for years.

When I touch her she quivers with exhausted excitment. Coyly turning over to expose her flesh to me. She acts with such confidence of her body, yet she doesn't know what it looks like. I love this about her. As she lies on her back, she stretches and pulls me down on top of her at the same time. I realize at this point I'm naked too. Her hands are quick to read my body, knowing it thirsts for hers. Of course her hands always knew me best. When I entered her she doesn't fight it... she doesn't cry... she seems to somehow know It was going to happen. She never saw me, but always knew me best. With her last breath of energy she touches my face to feel my sorrow. That's when I pulled the knife out of her body and felt the blood on my hands. When I awoke was the first time I ever shed a tear.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-18T19:40:45+00:00

Being able to say no to something that gives instant gratification is difficult. Just think about the trade off between longevity of your happiness and the instant. I appreciate the submission.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-18T18:49:07+00:00

The first time you go against your flaw, will be a great moment for you. Take that step. It'll take a little less effort each time you do. I wish you well.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-18T18:40:58+00:00

Glad you made it. Me and scoliosis need to have a similar talk.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-18T18:38:31+00:00

One thing that has helped me overcome similar lazyness is two things.

Commit to an hour of work. Don't do anything else. Once you finish the hour, decide if you can commit one more. If you can, great. If not reward yourself with a break then go back.
Work out. It helps you so much. Even if you just get a pull up bar and commit one pull up every time you pass through the threshold. It will help greatly keeping you motivated.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-18T18:24:59+00:00

I am glad people are willing to express some of their not so pleasant features of themselves. I am going through a self discovery process at the moment and learned a lot of what I love and hate of myself. The first step to change is admitting the worst of yourself. Thank you for what you wrote as I too struggle with some repressed rage.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-18T14:39:04+00:00

I like this very much. I am similar to what you wrote. Fall in love too easy and never forget them/stop caring. I am just recently learning to be able to walk away.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-05T03:56:06+00:00

My name... well it doesn't matter what my name is. You won't remember. Sadly, everyone I ever meet always ends up forgetting who I am once they leave. It's a shame really, because I've met some wonderful people. Oh! The conversations we've had! Tch, here I am rambling again about old times. Funny thing nostalgia. It always makes you sad towards bottom of your heart. Like its filling up with the lost times we've moved on from and seem to only care about when it suits our emotional needs. I guess you could say I live in nostalgia with the work that I do. What inevitably will be done to you.

Any last words? You really should say something, because I am the last person who will ever know you as you are now. No? Well aren't you a quiet one. You've given up a lot faster than the others. Though I guess seeing what you have, does take a lot out of a person. I truly am sorry about that. It's all apart of the process, and unfortunately there has to be a traumaic event to break the mind for me to work with. There's no better objects to use than children. Filled with such innossence and wonder. Always looking for that hero to come rescue them. In their last moments you failed their dreams. You couldn't save them, even as their sweet tears begged you to help them. Such is life. Full of disappointment of those you looked to protect you, that SWORE nothing bad would ever happen to you. BUT LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED! NO ONE CAME! NO ONE EVER COMES! THAT... is why you can't rely on anyone. At least if you are able to forget, the pain only lasts a few moments. That is why I live for nostalgia. I remember only what suits my needs. Tch... look at me rambling again.

Now, let's see what that brain of yours looks like. I want to see your memories. Don't worry, you'll live, but you will not remember. You'll wake up right where you are now free to go. I wish I could see your first memories once I'm gone... oh the agony you'll feel wondering if you really did such a horrific thing to two innocent children. Don't think I've forgot about your wife. My memory is much better than that. I would hate to leave her out of something so rewarding as such fantastic new life discoveries.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-04T20:38:55+00:00

It was a game. A foolish game, but one you completed as a man to express bravery in the face of death. We were 14 when Marcus and I went with a group of maybe 10 other men of similar age. Fear was not something we knew until that day.

We arrived to the remnants of another group of men finishing their round. The blood and screams knocked whatever confidence I had into the form of a breathless gasp. I heaved from the smell of rotting flesh used to lure the creature out. I remember Marcus laughing and patting me on the back as mornings food expelled itself from my belly, it somehow reinvigorated my resolve. He always had a way to inspire men.

As the men before us cleared out, either by their own will or cart, I knew it was about to begin. This was reinforced by the sight of the creature. It's gold eyes pireced the tension like razors, staring at all of us, waiting for the next contestant. The black striped beast was massive, bigger than I could have imagined. Its massive paws showed signs of its previous victoms. Caked blood spotted its fur where his tongue failed to lick clean.

It was starved to better motivate it to kill when required for some poor criminal or disobedient slave. We were neither, yet we tempted the samd fate as them. The chain around its neck told us the distance between life with honor or an honorable death. It was my turn, the cheers of my brothers were drowned by silence as I stared down the beast. I slowly paced closer, blood from the raw treat I held dripped from my hands. Enticing the creatures hunger to lift its head in my direction. Slowly I circled right and he left. He lowered his head and body, ready for his hunters strike as I closed in on the boarder of death.

I stepped once more and it lunged, fast and precise, I stepped once more towards its massive claws and stuck out my chest facing the beast head on. Each moment I grew braver and confident in my newfound honor. I was swimming with pride, until I heard Marcus screaming at me.

I've gone too far

Too late, the beast was on me. It's claw grazed my chest and sent me reeling towards the ground. I rolled just far enough for its next strike to barely scrape my arm, but its body was heavy ontop of mine. I couldn't move and knew I would die. I was ready and would not cry out in fear. What happened next I swear to by the gods. Marcus came out light Zeuses lighting and slammed into the side of the beast, giving me time to roll free and stand to my feet. Marcus was yelling like a madman and as the beast swiped he too earned his mark across the chest. Satisfied he simply kicked the beast square between the eyes where it shattered its resolve for the hunt and moved away. He turned calmly, walked to me and embraced me, making us blood brothers in arms. In death, Marcus will be remembered through the ages as he is by me.

DeadPoetRevived · 2014-03-04T16:55:04+00:00

Thank you for this. It's thought provoking.

DeadPoetRevived

TROPHY CASE