this is rather graphic. its about my bike crash.

Heartless: the day before May

Music blaring in my head,
Paying attention to everything said.
But suddenly he came, from out of the blue,
I had to move fast to avoid being sued.
I yanked to the left, it happened so fast,
I was lucky to not need a cast.
Bike undamaged,
Leg, by the handle brake, ravaged.
Blood, fire hot, and flowing,
To hurt and unknowing.
“Dude,” he called,
“You need a hospital Dog.”
“I’m ok, I’m fine,”
I said, not noticing the thick and long red line.
Then I saw and was surprised,
‘That’s a lot of blood,’ I realized.
It dripped down my leg I could feel I didn’t need to see,
Over my sock, on my shoe and onto the concrete flowing freely.
I limped away, to a lamp post,
Thinking of the scar I would boast.
As I dialed for an ambulance,
People walked by with only a glance.
No one helped, though my blood was in sight.
The pain was intense,
No one was coming to help, which made me incensed.
Finally, three stopped to help,
God bless them, for they wore clothing the color of kelp.
One called for an ambulance while two stood watch,
But it was already close, the driver top notch.
Whilst the stretcher was being prepared,
An officer of the campus sliced my pants and at my wound he stared.
A deep gouge that tore muscle, blood pouring,
The scene was far from alluring.
Fat hanging in plain view for everyone to see,
And yet my mind was only for my favorite slashed jeans of Lee.
As I was helped onto the stretcher, I must confess,
That I was not paying attention to my leg’s protests.
Don’t get me wrong, I did feel pain,
I was just wondering if I would need a cane.
It was my first time in an ambulance and I was very excited,
Thus my curiosity ignited.
This helped me bare the pain,
And indeed helped keep me sane.
We arrived at the hospital in not more than three minutes,
It was then the jarring made me realize my limits.
The pain had come back like a slap across my face,
It felt like someone had hit my leg with a mace.
When we arrived, I had X-rays,
“We have to change his bandages,” the nurse says.
After that they had me put my leg in a position that hurt badly,
It was so that the X-ray could take a proper picture, sadly.
When I was back in my room, I turned on a re run of Zack and Cody,
Wishing it was all fake… a dream… phony.
Then the doctor came in with a bottle of cold water,
It had a hole in it and sprayed it into my leg without a falter.
It did not hurt but felt strange,
Ice cold water pouring into my hot warm body, I wished it would change.
I looked down and saw the fat floating,
Blood mixed with water flowed out, washing away blood crusting.
Finally, my wound clean, he took needles out,
Upon seeing them I tried not to shout.
I focused on the TV, squeezing the arm of the bed,
The pain of a needle piercing my wound filled my head.
Soon it was all over and he grabbed a curved needle, like a hook,
Using a blue wire, he pulls my skin together, going by the book.
It takes six stitches to pull my skin back together,
Then I get crutches; my leg feeling opposite the weight of a feather.
I call for a friend to take me home,
I was happy I wasn’t so alone.
Good thing I heard always come in pairs,
God bless Beverley, and the three who were there.


by logan carver

Lay with me

Come lay with me. Hug me tight
And snuggle tonight
It will feel like a flight
And the feeling of closeness out of sight
No matter what the plight
Come, stay with me tonight

-Logan Carver

CH. 1 this is the first chapter to a story i finished. whatcha think so far?

The world… is dead. The only thing that interrupts the silence and peace of the quiet world is a breeze. Buildings all across the globe lay in ruin; molting their windows and bits of wood like a parrot. Rusted cars lay parked where their owners left them. Not a skeleton remains, not a body is left behind. Only the cities and towns show that life once lived on Earth.

And yet, despite appearance of death, decay, and rust; humans have the annoying little habit of survival. Five humans have survived the terrible fate that befell this world. Five friends who were chosen to lead the world in this Great War that was brought from a distant planet. They were young, but highly experienced in their own fields. Xander, the pale seventeen year old boy who had a brain big enough to hack into any computer put in front of him. He wasn’t your regular computer hacker either. He had a rather nice build to go along with his brain, but he rarely talked. He preferred hand signs because no one could understand his rich vocabulary. He had spiked black hair and forest green eyes.

Elanea, the dark skinned eighteen year old girl with an attitude to make up for her small and petite figure. She was much stronger than she seemed and was the one people turned to in a crisis. She was confident in everything she did and loved a good fight. She happened to have deadly accuracy with any weapon she laid her hands on and could perform with and clean every single one without teaching. Her hair was black and shiny, always hanging about shoulder length. Her lips were full and her eyes held a fire that no one could match.

Clay, the nineteen year old Mexican descendant who could drive any car he got into. If given a wrench, he could build or fix anything. Surprisingly, he was not short, but stood at a good six feet tall with electric blue eyes. An oxymoron if there ever was one. He was always calm and never raised his voice. He would spend his free time writing poetry or tapping out rhythms on a pair of drums. Besides cars and mechanics, he was an excellent drummer. He knew how to cheer everyone up or calm them down. If two friends were in a fight, he knew how to make ends meet without physical force.

Kayti, the short but feisty eighteen year old girl. She had a glowing tan and a tough as nails personality. But beneath it she was a sweat natured girl. Her hair was brown with blonde highlights that also went to her shoulders. Her petite body seemed to have all the men always slobbering and tripping over themselves. She specialized in martial arts and had a black belt in twelve different disciplines. Anyone who went up against this tigress of the jungle would fall to their knees begging for mercy before she would roar.

And Troy, the loud, hyperactive eighteen year old who could be wise at times. His hair was jet black and always hung in his grinning face. It was streaked with natural silver. His eyes were dark sapphire and always shone with the playfulness of a puppy but the appetite of a herbivore. He preferred to not eat meat, but never voiced his reasons. His specialties were actually everything that the others could do. He could fix, build, drive, fight, shoot, and hack. His little kid personality always had people underestimating him. Xander led the Chinese, Koreans, Japanese, Indians, and the Russians. Elanea led the Americans, Mexicans, and Canadians. Clay led the Europeans, Germans, French, Polls, Swedish, Finish, Irish, Scottish, Arabic, Turkish, and all the rest of Europe. Kayti led the South Americans, and Troy led all of Africa.

And despite their many new friends that died, despite all their new loves that died, when fire rained from the heavens, people falling from the onslaught of the enemy from a distant planet, they lived on. They were all that was left in the world, apart, unable to find or contact one another. All hope of restoring humanity to its once former glory extinguished. All hope of one another being alive gone. They believed one another to be dead, rotting, or already dust in the wind. Troy, his now tanned skin sweat drenched in the desert looked at the clear blue sky. His eyes squinted against the sun. His pants were up above his knees and frayed at the edges.

His muscular chest held no shirt, but a belt slanting across it with pouches. A water bottle hung at his side empty and an Arabic looking sword at the other end of his waist; a silver revolver handle was sticking out of the back of his pants. He wondered if Kayti was still alive. He was the last of his once great army. They had clashed against the aliens for so long, losing millions in each great battle. He had lost good friends, and countless loves to this disgusting war. And yet he remembered his first love and how when they parted, how he regretted not kissing her goodbye and telling her he loved her. He stopped looking at the sky and trudged on through the scorching desert. His feet were covered by shoes that had so many holes in them that they could have been sandals. He felt the sand enter his shoes and burn his feet.

Walking through Africa was always wonderful, but after losing the Great War, he no longer saw its beauty. He had killed countless aliens by gun and sword. He had looked death in the face countless times and pulled through. The desert was no stranger to him. She welcomed him with open arms and kissed his feet with each step he took. He was hard core more than he used to be. Now he’d slash a throat and not think twice. He passed over a sand dune and saw another small town. He sighed as he walked on yet again. God how he wanted out of Africa, just to see if his friends were alive. He walked by a military humvee and stopped to stare. It was on its side and was black from an explosion. Rust covered most of it now.

He recognized it. This is where he was driving right behind it when they attacked. This humvee was the first to blow up. Five poor souls snuffed in a second of pure hatred and laser fire. They had come out of the black sky firing away without warning. That was the day Jim had died. A good man, soldier, and friend if there ever was one. He had been hit by the concussion of a blast and lost his left arm. Troy had held him up and begged him to pull through. Saying that he needed him at his back at all times. Jim just smiled and laughed his deep African American laugh.

“No one needs to watch your back Troy,” he had said while clasping his sweaty hand on Troy’s scarred and bloody shoulder, “You’re the best there is.” With that, his grip had gone slack, eyes unfocused and staring just over Troy’s left shoulder. Troy had wailed to the sky and ended up destroying the laser firing bastards with a heat seeking rocket launcher.

“Fry in hell!” he had spat in anger and threw the weapon to the ground hard enough to snap it in two. Troy came back to reality with tears in his eyes. So many lives… just gone. A pointless war fought over Humanity’s survival. He made it to the small quaint town and listened to the wind blow through the alley ways and heard the crunch of the sand beneath his feet. By day, he traveled, by night… that was a different story. At night, you had to be in a town, buried deep under ground. The aliens knew that there were still survivors. They just didn’t know where or how many. At night, they raided every town under their surveillance. Every night, Troy sat in a deep dark tunnel under a town, gun held so tightly with fear that his knuckles were pale white. Listening to the monster’s wails of frustration and hoping to God or whoever was up there that they didn’t find him.

Every night so far, he had fallen asleep to those noises. Fallen asleep praying that he would live one day more to find his sweet Kayti and tell her how he felt. He looked at the sky. The sun was setting fast. He refilled his tank of water and made his way to a basement. Every basement had one of these. He opened a large, thick, heavy stone door and walked into the tunnel, shutting it behind him and sealing it off. These tunnels lead nowhere. They were a complete circle. One of the reasons he was scared stiff every night, and slept terrible whenever there was noise outside. He sat down with a sigh and kicked off his shoes. It was still slightly damp in the cold dungeon like tomb. He rubbed his aching feet and took out his gun and sword. He laid the sword next to him, held the gun tight and laid down on his belt rolled up into a pillow. It took a few minutes, but he finally fell asleep, gun lying on his chest.


Elanea:

Elanea put the stick down again, breathing heavily and hoisting herself up. She had been climbing for hours. She was somewhere in the Rocky Mountains and could not find a sewer like area like Troy had. She dug holes, slept in ditches, behind waterfalls, in caves, under roots, and under leaves. She wore ripped camouflage pants, tattered brown shirt, and an army boots full of holes. She was the last woman on earth. Her friends had to be dead by now. She reached for her AK-47 strapped on her back to make sure it was still intact. She had fallen quite a bit. She was lucky to still have her gun.

Her ammo supply was dangerously low and would soon have to resort to traps to protect herself. The aliens knew where she was. She had to move every single time. She had had a run in with one not three hours ago and barely slipped by without notice. Now, the high altitude was killing her more than the aliens. She took a moment to wipe her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. Her throat was dry and the thirst clawed at her like an angry beast. She needed to find an untainted stream quick. She exhaled through her lips and began a decent toward the trees. Not hearing from Clay about literally killed her. It was bad enough parting from him, but thinking him dead moved her to so much tears of absolute loss that she just wanted to shoot herself in the head and join him.

But she knew that was not what he would have wanted. This was the only thought that kept her going. She stumbled down the last rock on the small little jut in the mountain. There was a small creek merrily running its way down the mountain. The white foam, as it washed by, flew up and coated the white rocks of the mountain, making it shine. Elanea scrambled for it and dropped her walking stick with a clatter. She landed at the edge, threw her hands in and brought them to her mouth, slurping greedily. Then she stuck her head below the surface, keeping a tight hold on the rocks.

The force of the cold water hit her full blast, but she didn’t care. She drank her fill and came back up, blowing water off her lips and wiping her face. She grabbed her walking stick and froze at the sound of hissing. She looked at the sun. It couldn’t be near dark yet. It had to be three in the afternoon. Never the less, she got up and quietly made her way downhill. The hissing grew louder as she descended. She began to pick up the pace until the sound of trees snapping could be heard. She stopped, dropped the stick, grabbed her gun and pointed it at the offending enemy. Standing at eight feet tall, it had a scaly human body the color of forest green. Covered in black battle armor that looked like it belonged to a knight from King Arthur’s Court. Its head was not human however. Its head was what made up for two feet of its length. It was a cobra head. The armor went up the back of the head and neck and lowered past the eyes and rested on the top jaw. It held a fierce looking weapon. In both hands, it held a sleek, shiny gun that had an aiming laser on the top.

The gun barrel was long and thick and inside it was a pulsing blue electrical current that zapped up and down. The reptilian eyes glared at her as the alien raised the weapon and aimed. Elanea pulled the trigger, firing one shot. The bullet sped through the laser on top of the weapon and into the reptile’s eye. The monster opened its mouth, tongue flying out, and screeched loudly in pain. It fell backwards with a thump, the gun skidding a few feet down the hill before stopping. Purplish black blood pooled from the wound as Elanea walked up closer to it. She kept the gun pointed at it. It was an alien and she couldn’t be too careful. She nudged it with her toe and watched its limp form move away and back into place. She smirked and let go of the gun. It hung on its strap at her waist as she moved to grab his walking stick. It was at that moment, as she reached for the walking stick, that a rock just next to it began to jump repeatedly as if trying to dance. She rolled her eyes.

“Ohhhhhh crud,” she muttered. She grabbed her walking stick and ran for her life. Seconds after she made it into the trees, a large, flat, water drop shaped spacecraft flew over the area, sweeping for life forms. When it came across the dead comrade, five of the beasts dropped down and looked around, guns drawn and ready.

“This is so not my day,” she moaned and ran off as fast as her legs could go.


Xander:

Xander was not dead. He was still going long and strong. Right now, he was located in Finland, deep in the snow on a windless and cloudless night. He was not like he used to be. He used to avoid fight. Now he longed for fights. And just like the others, his once great army was knocked down to one: him. He crunched through the cold dead night, bundled up as tight as possible in clothes that he amazingly kept in one piece.

Xander looked through the quiet dead night and saw the northern lights. His army was wiped out last month in a great battle that lasted just three days. They never stood a chance in the snow. Amazingly, these space reptiles were not affected by the snow like the ordinary snakes of earth were. They did not go sluggish or tired, but their pace definitely quickened. He managed to run when the last man fell. It would have been suicide to take on thousands of those monsters and their guns alone. He wasn’t that headstrong. He knew he had a squad of the lethal monsters on his trail at this moment. At least six. They had guns, venom in their teeth, and strength to boot. He wouldn’t stand a chance alone against six. Three maybe, but not six. Even with his rifle, this happened to be strapped to his back.

His thoughts turned to Kayti… and his best bud Troy. Clay with his calm demeanor. To Elanea, the over protective leader with an ego to match. A tear traced down his pale skin and froze before it could fall off. He trudged on, hoping he could find shelter somewhere before he was shot down. A cry in the night split the air like an ax on wood. Xander whirled around, snow flying. There were the six aliens on their way, running with speed he didn’t know they had. He cursed and turned to run. He heard the laser fire and felt the heat as they flew by him. He jumped forward, rolling until he was on one knee and one foot with his rifle out.

“Chew on this,” he muttered and fired. One got a nice sized hole in his stomach. The five stopped and looked at their dead friend. They looked at one another, making hissing noises and looked back at Xander. Without warning, he fired again, blowing another’s face to bits. The aliens aimed and fired. Xander fell back to dodge the laser beams. He got to his feet and hauled ass as fast as he could, letting snow fly behind him. A laser shot grazed his shoulder, slicing through the shirt and leaving his skin grazed. He ignored the pain that played on his shoulder as he continued to run. He hoped to God there was some way out of this predicament. He suddenly skidded to a stop and looked over a fifty foot ledge that led to the ocean below. Water touching the ice was partially frozen. He turned around to find the four left over aliens aiming their guns at his chest and hissing in triumph.

Clay:

Clay had on a hunter green shirt with kaki colored pants complete with kaki military boots with steel caps on the outside toe area. His head was protected by a green military camo hat. His eyes roamed the area. The rubble was horrible to witness. This was where their last stand had failed them and he got away by his coaxing military. He reluctantly ran as the last of his resistance was defeated. The sky was cloudy as he continued to walk through the deserted Russian road. He looked left and right. The city that had once been paved, shiny, and whole was now nothing but a ghost town. Buildings were half what their height used to be. The streets could hardly be seen by all the paper, rubble, concrete, metal, and random bits of broken and rusted technology that covered it.

A humvee was lying upside down, front window shattered and large dark brown stains covering the paint. Rust was red, the stains were old blood. Tears filled his eyes as he thought of his precious Elanea. He had no doubt in his mind she was dead. If he could not have held his own against these monsters, how could she? He hugged herself as he walked, not caring where his feet carried him. His boots made loud, echoing clomp noises on the gravel. In the quiet abandoned streets, it sounded like an army in itself. He heard a noise… a slight humming. It was a “Sweeper” as his army had put it. A ship that looked for survivors and incinerated them without a moment’s hesitation.

He darted through the street into a building, going through the open doorway and into the dark room. He huddled behind a wall between the open door and window. He was pressed flat against the wall as a search light swept through the window and door. It stopped when it fell on the door and Clay heard the hiss of a door opening. Each ship held four aliens; enough to take either him or his friends down without much trouble. He knew that three were being deported while the other was left to keep the ship under surveillance. He heard growls and hisses as the aliens clutched their weapons and peered through the city. His breathing was short and quick and sweat covered his entire body. Clay was scared senseless. His eyes wide and his mind hoping against hope that they left. Sure, he had killed and would have made his family proud… but he still didn’t like killing.

The crunch of the gravel underfoot of the aliens filled the air as it slowly made its way toward the building. The alien could feel excitement course through its veins. It could taste the survivor just beyond the wall. It looked forward to sinking its poisonous teeth into the survivor and tasting the blood in its mouth. Clay knew that it wasn’t stopping. He lifted his arms, each holding a .45 revolver. He knew where one was, the other shot would have to be quick and precise. He jumped out, eyes glaring with rage and yelled. He fired at the same time with each gun. The first was caught off guard as its face was blown beyond recognition. The other got his arm blown off. He kept going as their guns were fired. The shots barely missed him as he jumped behind the wall for safety, just under another broken window.

The creature that had its left arm blown off was screeching and spitting in pain and rage. The spacecraft was leveled to the ground as the owner came running out to help. Clay was on his back, one gun pointed at the window above her and the other at the door. There was the sound of a laser gun being fired and something heavy thumping to the ground. The screeching had stopped. Clay slowly crawled for the stairs and didn’t hear the two creatures creeping up to the doorway with caution. As soon as he was at the entryway to the stairs, he sprang to his feet and flew up the stairs. Laser fire barely missed him. He kept going until he came to a sudden halt on the third floor. Five of the monsters were aiming guns at him. They had tricked him. He could only close his eyes and as the first alien slowly squeezed the trigger; he could think only one thing before being shot.

‘At least I shall be with Elanea.’ then all went black.


Kayti:

Kayti was hunched inside a dumpster, covered in trash and garbage that was old enough to be considered fossils. She no longer had her army. She had lost so many young men and women. Then she had to endure weeks of defenseless children screaming in fear and agony as they were killed without mercy. She cried at the thought that she never got to tell Troy, her first ever love, how she felt. She waited in the night, to afraid to sleep, as she heard the click-clicks of the monsters walking. Luckily, they never seemed to find her. By day, they never looked. They were always somewhere else. Her mind flew to Xander and wondered if he was as alive and well as her. To Elanea, her fearless leader and friend. To her dear friend Clay. She sighed lightly in sadness. She was somewhere in Chile, this much she knew. There was a slight crack from the lid to the dumpster not being closed properly. Behind it, the first bit of sun winked at her.

Another sleepless night. She pushed slowly and peeked out, checking if the coast was clear. She knew she wasn’t making to much noise, but each step, each whine of rusted metal, each rock being kicked sounded like a bomb going off along with sirens blaring. When she had closed the lid, she set off, her muscles groaning in protest from lack of sleep. Her eyes felt heavy, but she couldn’t sleep now. She had to get to America. This was her third day without sleep. She trudged on, feet dragging slightly. She had on dark green camo pants, and what used to be a buttoned up dark green camo jacket, but minus the sleeves, bra, or shirt. Her boots had their soles gaping open here and there from all the running she had to endure. And like every single one of her friends, she was dirty and stank to high heaven.

Her head was covered by a green bandana with her hair pulled back and tied in a tight bun. Stuffed down the front of her tight pants was a .45 revolver. Ammo resided in her left pocket and hanging on her right waist was a razor sharp machete. She kicked a rock and watched it roll and jump across the pavement. The air reeked of burned metal and decay. The streets were lined with charred black cars with shattered windows. The sidewalk and a bit of the road were covered by melted glass. She walked on the yellow lines in the middle of the road. No skeletons would ever be found. Finally, she found a car that was still intact. The trunk was open wide and the inside, though moth ridden and musty was still soft enough to be considered a nice bed. She crawled in and shut and latched herself inside. As her mind drifted to sleep, she hoped to God that she wasn’t attacked while sleeping.

She was awakened as abruptly as if someone had screamed in her ear. Her eyes searched with rapt attention. Then she heard it. The faint clicking noise not three feet from the car she was lying in. Then a hissing noise. There was one talking to another. Its voice was deep and hard to understand. English must not be their best language.

“We have to find the ssssurvivorsss,” it hissed. Her body began to shake violently. Then she stopped; breath caught in her throat and heart racing like Jeff Gordon down the race track. Survivors? As in more than one?! She didn’t move a muscle, listening with all her might.

“When we find them we can finally get off thisss retched planet,” another agreed.

“I ssstill find it amazing that these humansss could very posssssibly kill usss in the distant future. They were sssuch pushoversss,” the first one chuckled. Raven felt anger pulse through her. Pushovers? She’d show them “pushover”. But she couldn’t; their voices were disappearing and growing fainter. And for the first time since the war had started, she was happy. Her friends had survived! Or at least a few. But it didn’t matter. She was no longer the last one on earth! After waiting for a good five minutes, she kicked open the trunk and climbed out. It was pitch dark outside. Now all she had to do was find what was left of her friends.

thnx. i was watching a scary movie. made me think of this :-)

Fear

Can you see?
That man about to buy tea?
Every second he takes a glance,
And if you look, you can see there, in his pocket on his pants.
Is that a knife?
A blade, a razor? Ready to take a life?
He’s afraid of something,
But it could be nothing.
Just an imagination on overload,
The answer is simple, yet old.
Fear,
It can hit with something as small as a leer.
Look, over there,
A woman walking, without a care.
But look closer,
She’s just a poser.
See her purse?
Inside, for harassing men, is a curse.
She holds a gun, ready to fire,
If she’s attacked, the need will be dire.
No matter what you do or where you go,
Fear is everywhere, so…
Are you easy to scare?
Fear… it’s everywhere.

hey, im just a lonely college guy looking for someone to spend time with and get to kno. hit me up if you wanna give it a try

hey everyone. I'm just a simple guy in college, looking for a girl to spend some time with. hope to meet her soon

The Rose of red

I once met, a Rose of red,
Around her I felt no dread.
To other Roses, she did not compare,
She was kind, descent, more lovely, and fair.
I picked her from the bunch to be close,
For around her, I need more than a small dose.
I would never imprison her in a vase,
But let her roam free, if it were the case.
I care for her greatly, and always will,
For my feelings for her, you can never kill.

Logan Carver

Sunglasses

Dark, shadowed, hidden,
The entrance forbidden,
Hiding the real and portraying imaginary,
Which is honest and which has skin as red as cherry,
How to see the soul within when the doors are cloaked,
Can u get through to save the man in misery soaked?

Logan Carver

my flower

Roses are red, violets are blue,
Honey is sweet but not as sweet as you.
I am the bee, you are the flower,
You scent and beauty hold me in your power.
I am entranced, as if under a spell,
I am yours, the flower of the bells.
Instead of taking like most bees do,
I await your permission with a coo.
Will you give this humble bee what he desires?
Your nectar, your honey to quench his passion of many fires?
He awaits your decision with dwindling patience,
But do not worry or be tense.
He will wait forever for you,
Amongst the skies of blue.


Logan Carver

Heart’s Desire

Last night, I was asleep
Finding my dreams hard to keep.
And it was in these dreams that I came to realize
My feelings could not be mutual in size.
Through minds we are connected,
When we are apart, I am dissected.
Through trees, earth, water, and fire,
Give me my heart’s desire.
What I want is your heart, body, and soul,
From youth till age of ol'.
Though it was hard for most my dreams to keep,
This one I managed, while asleep.

Logan Carver