Ubiquitous Disparagement.You've torn me down, expended me, thrust me within an inch of sanity's brink. You've expected emotions to change, both your's and mine. You're wrong, even as my blood runs down the windows and into the sink. You've given yourself the perfect palette of ink with which to sign, Sign yourself over to me, you've known that I won't digress. Lying to yourself in gallons of self-loathing hasn't brought you away from me, It's only brought me closer yet, to that goal, so succulent, I might stress. The final stage that I've only begun to cerebrate of, the truculent scene, of you and me. You've only broughUbiquitous Disparagement.
Les Soirs d'ete.Summer nights; where everything falls into place for everyone. Every year, life conforming to whim. I believe you've stolen some pieces from me, because nothing fits together. A failed attempt at romance, either of us know it, both amateurly crafted dirigibles of social instability, we've ourselves proselyted; we believe we can perfect. Addicted to the quiet intimate voice she exhumes in our penetralial forest perfection, and I can't quite bear the absence of her redolence. I believe you've stolen some pieces from me, because nothing fits together. Staring at her less-than-metaphorical crimson tLes Soirs d'ete.
Elucidating Our Desideratum.The fulgurite was a glowering shape among the otherwise empty plane. The single derivation of light was rapt and shredded by the planic airs before it could reach beyond its glass chalice. This plane, this plane that had only known dissonance, cacophony and enmity, would give birth and play host to the scourge of the macrocosm, in short, our hominal selves, giving humanity an all too appropriate setting of chaos and disarray.Elucidating Our Desideratum.
However, the plane was hardly enough in disarray that we, as hominids, could have ignored our omnipresent desecration. Yet, with our admitted, ubiquitous disembowelment of the harrowe
Losing Your VirginityMother makes buds out of cigarette buttsLosing Your Virginity
smashed into the clay dish,
though it may not have intended to be used this way, given to her some countless Mothers days ago.
Daughter lies on her back , her tan legs like the orange filters that stuck out at nasty angles from the mess of unkept ashes,
thinking about the hundreds of Sundays that went to waste, (though she never intended to be used this way) and how her mother never taught her she was only an animal.
-casey
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We demand, we demand, we demand the right to piss in different colours.
Gr.
(As if I actually would get mad over an Internet community. ^_^.)
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We demand, we demand, we demand the right to piss in different colours.
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If you can dream and not make dreams your master
If you can think but not make thoughts your aim
-Rudyard Kipling, If.
keep it up
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If you can dream and not make dreams your master
If you can think but not make thoughts your aim
-Rudyard Kipling, If.
I understand that people write, even me, about events/feelings/anything else that happens in your life, but I'd like to see more about the + side of life.
Congrats on having been able to write like this at 15, I'll take a closer look at your gallery now & maybe have to re-post if my mind is changed.
-pini.
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If you can dream and not make dreams your master
If you can think but not make thoughts your aim
-Rudyard Kipling, If.
Thanks for the "being able to write like this at 15" comment. I really enjoyed that one.
-Sari.
--
you can not recieve some thing without giving up something in return
(quote from fullmetal alchemist)
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