Mar 09
Sidney B.'s picture


Jan 04
Sidney B.'s picture

I Wonder...

Somedays I wonder if breaking my hands would be better than putting them on the keyboard hundreds of times
Typing up a storm of ideas and stories and happiness and pain.
Of wizards and dragons and hopers and shame.
Of sadness and despair and tragedy in rain.
So I wonder if breaking my hands would be better than all that,
Only to become dissatisfied and backspace my life away.
Sep 05
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The Man without a Name.

I opened the creaky door,
Within its tired frame.
To find a man at a table.
The man without a name.

He was so like a statue,
I stood there, stock still
Mimicking his static so
My eyes might get their fill.

I knew he noticed me
By the way his eyes flicked about
As if searching for someone here with us
One who should be without.

"Hello," I said, shutting the door
And moving to the table.
I pulled the chair across from him, sat
And smiled as best I was able.

"I'm Sidney." I told the man.
He remained completely frozen.
My smile didn't falter, it always was like this.
"You'll be glad to know that you've been chosen."

Now this made him move.
His bowed head came up to see me,
His eyes stared, wide, dumbfounded.
We sat through his quiet epiphany.

"I know it might be a shock..."
I dug around it my bag, holding my smile.

Jun 19
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Rain Dance

The heartbeat I hear booms like thunder.
The thunder I hear precedes the brilliant flash of your electric words.
The flash signals to hundreds of bullets of water that it's time to plummet from the eye of the sky, to explode all over me.

You're soaked from head to toe in those raindrops your lightning brought down.
Now I'm alone with these thoughts of blinding lights and frozen teardrops.
And you'll be alone too, y'know.

You'll be as alone as me,
With that thunderous heart,
And your lightning lies,
And the truth they impart.

Since you, pal, you don't know how to quit or stay quiet,
To take a cue and go by it,
To make an oath to die by it.

Instead, you jitterbug and prance and waltz your way through life.
Your lightning lies and thunder heart, just a part of the chorus in your rain dance.
The sky's eyes water with every step and lyric, but you couldn't care if you tried.
May 07
Sidney B.'s picture


Jan 27
Sidney B.'s picture


I hear it in my mind, near the back and by the piles of unfinished stories
That I'll never complete, because the noise gets louder the closer I get.
Haha, haha
I hear it louder now, slinking and creeping to my conscious thought
Making sure I understand that it's there because of me. It's my fault.
Haha, haha, haha
Now it's right next to me, one lanky hand upon my shoulder and its mouth near my ear
Making its wheedling mockery just loud enough to be everpresent. My stomach turns and I retch.
It smiles wide.
My head splits in two at the change in noise. I trip over my own feet and stagger, allowing it to seize my other arm.
I stare into its shadowy mass, petrified as a deer in the headlights, or an ancient Greek who looked upon Medusa.

Oct 24
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My Old Biology Teacher Gave Me A Prompt

You know, it's really good to be back. It's been hectic in the month since my last serious post (Ballad of the Magician, I think). My creative writing class has taken up a good chunk of time, as has physical school and its woes (leaving the house, going to class, watching the clock so often you learn what each individual minute marker sounds like, that sort of stuff). Anyway, I decided today would be the day I hop back onto the horse of prompt-based writing (I've been flexing portions of my writing muscles, time for a full mind workout). Here we go, preamble time.

Oct 24
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Today, at school, as it'd have to be at this hour,
I came to a conclusion that hurts me.
People who say 'Hi' to most everyone in the morning,
Passed by me silently.

At first I didn't mind, because Tuesdays are almost as bad as Mondays.
It didn't cut so deeply as it does now,
Until the person who habitually bothers me about the color of my shirts,
Acted as if I were a phantom - not even there.

That kind of broke it,
The shield of apathy I bear.
Crushed it and mashed it,
Into a dreadful despair.

I'm not one to whine, or cry or the like,
At least I don't think so, most of the time.
Hating myself? Melancholy and numb pain?
I handle those things fine, mostly.

But this. This insignificant thing,
That'd make no difference to a n y o n e else.
Compelled me to write this,
Whiny little lament.

What's so wrong with my voice?
Oct 08
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Right Now

It's been said on a few occasions that you can't write when you're uninspired or motivated. I am neither inspired nor motivated right now, so this is likely the worst post I will have made in my entire life...

Also, two genre tags!
Oct 03
Sidney B.'s picture

Where I Left Off

Pick up where I left off.
Take up my forgotten cause.
Do with it what I
Was too weak to.

It's not hard,
In truth, it's easy.
Make what I dreamt reality.

Someone has to do it,
Whether we like it or not.
It's better that an old dog like me
Hands this burden off.

Sorry for the trouble,
Sorry for the work.
Sorry for giving you my dream
And overriding yours.

But you're like a little me.
A little smaller, a little cuter,
A bit more headstrong, a bit more wild
A bit less an adult, a bit more a child.

But I know what's best,
Because I've been around the block.
I've seen things that you never will,
And done things you'll never do.

Like try, like win,
Like make a family, like changing course.
Like work, like love, like choosing the less-walked trail,
Like give, like take, like succeed, like fail.