Teething-smile disinfect human bleach from vain instincts,
Severing the sentiment of simplified obsession and love that linked.
I could never find faults past drugged crescent moons, middle-heavy sinked.
Maggot ice gorges an 'identity', as if the mind's eye deals in but nouns.
Courtiers and weepers pride labels, not wishful childish inclinations,
Of off-pitched swiftly reordered sounds.
Anything else distinct lends them neglected personas,
All in the like mind of a indifferent record then toss.
Uniform gravel eyes recite medical tact shrewd,
In coats of muck, gravy, liquor sign, and cabbage chewed.
They speak volumes, yes, but since
I, Eccentric Breathes of the dreamer,
Can't understand how empty blue tinted rooms feel full.
Why the empty space, a coworkers sleek heaven,
Orange aura- fills me with disdain.
Every word I think bubbles up into my frustrated pool of vain,
I search for my ruined self in ruined lovers and wrecks of abandonment,
No sense of identification, purification, vengeance, happily had filth.
I'm filled with mirth when I forget it's all forgotten,
That I never truly lust for what is soughten.
When emptiness completes,
Its hard for the longing to have others to compete.
I never would have known you as I know myself,
til I striped the both dow
Pinstriped Bohemian Prince by LostPyroKitten, literature
Literature
Pinstriped Bohemian Prince
Magic with a scalpel in palm,
Releasing an anxious tangled red gush into your calm.
Drawing my life down a red line,
The ease of your skill is probably a sign
A disorder of light and dark
Unraveled in the outcome of what your gift brings us.
When we don't think life worthy of renewal,
--What kind of gift have you brought me?
You'll be drunk by dawn if I know you at all,
It's the only substance that drowns your suffocation.
You cannot keep up the act of believing for any dilation,
Going through the motions, words.
You renew only my dead body.
A pale remembrance of me, subdued,
A picture perfect mirror of your exterior mood.
All
Without the words spoken,
Abstract desires drifts from person to foreign person.
Grasping at air,
A message thinner than logic allows,
Completely empty.
Yet packaged neatly with ribbons and bows,
(Silent hellos)
Valuing so little in each others lovely gifts,
In our unique affectionate ways.
(In the absent minded praise)
I wouldn't know, return, or understand how it could be,
If he still loves me.
The unbearable trances of any feelings,
Melt under my interpretation of 'love'.
Had only we been different in our dealings,
With the echoing words that made us real,
Now only lingering as a ghostly nightmare.
How I felt forces his ha
Sunshine warms ever cycling life,
Wearing down strolling visitor's strife,
Lapping against its clinging beach,
Glazed by a sun just out of reach.
It's the perfection of sapphire in motion:
The graceful and caressing ocean.
Twinkling on tips, deep blue in its hollows,
Winking glamour and unspoken sorrows,
Which blistering foam begs their recognition.
Tourists forget their own for here they are never mentioned.
Homesick for friendly hands,
Soothed in the embrace of scorching sands,
That melt away our distant addiction,
Locking them away from our weary minds at nature's petition.
Yet still the fragile beauty preserved in the sun,
Summer tainted our will and reason,
Leading explorers from a treason,
That caused sweet silent looks,
Birthed from exaggerated story books.
Doubts that sprinkled up from drains,
Funnel themselves back down again,
Shaking pains from our veins,
Which peel off in their purposeless effort,
Which kept the world a layer away-
Trapped within our own self-induced slumber,
Breath holes made by a friend's finger tips cause its crumble.
Out from beneath our dreams and screams,
The worlds stays just as it always seems.
A mess of people,
Searching for an understanding undiscovered,
Blending oil and water blindfolded yet success assured.
De
Crawling away from what I hide,
I like to think it's not inside.
I know much better than before,
When I'm hollow you'll still want more.
Frayed at the edges,
Pick a string.
Nothing hurts like our messy fling.
Keep the pieces,
I'll suppress my anger,
because I've lost that right.
I'm just a desperate stranger.
"What is this wreck?
Quick, use that rag.."
I'm ready to make up for your lag.
Our mess, I will carry inside.
Abandoned and dirty,
Maybe I have been a bit too wordy.
Flesh, hearts, and minds,
Flooded in our lies,
Until we know nothing.
I love you,
But I don't know what for anymore.
The moon dances,
Skippin
Surround and consume me,
I should never be free.
I disappoint and waste,
That which I value but refuse to face,
Then slowly I recognize,
The dry flaking tears he cries.
I lick them up before they hit the floor,
I cannot watch his strain anymore.
I'm a pretty gift of falsity,
Burning up your integrity,
And drowning your hope.
Pin me down or tie me with your rope.
Firmly fix my guilted smile,
Or I will destroy or defile,
What you think you love.
My want to break myself in your name,
Transfixes your gaze, past my shame,
Flattering and intense,
Lengthening in our suspense.
Take me.
I'm flowing past your palm,
Steady and calm.
Sunshine warms ever cycling life,
Wearing down strolling visitor's strife,
Lapping against its clinging beach,
Glazed by a sun just out of reach.
It's the perfection of sapphire in motion:
The graceful and caressing ocean.
Twinkling on tips, deep blue in its hollows,
Winking glamour and unspoken sorrows,
Which blistering foam begs their recognition.
Tourists forget their own for here they are never mentioned.
Homesick for friendly hands,
Soothed in the embrace of scorching sands,
That melt away our distant addiction,
Locking them away from our weary minds at nature's petition.
Yet still the fragile beauty preserved in the sun,
Current Residence: Ol' Virginie Favourite genre of music: Indie, Heavy Metal, Alternative, Classical Operating System: I don't know and that's probably a bad sign MP3 player of choice: ah.. The only one I own.. That I can't use, and don't know what it does. Shell of choice: Soft and cheesy Wallpaper of choice: James Marsters... Not that I actually have that anymore. Skin of choice: Version 2 Favourite cartoon character: Salad Fingers... THEN Tamon... Personal Quote: "Sometimes I pull out hair and put it in library books on purpose."
Favourite Movies
French Kiss
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
The Doors, The Killers
Favourite Writers
Lord Byron
Favourite Games
Twister
Favourite Gaming Platform
um.. *goes completely blank*
Tools of the Trade
None as of.. *looks at watch intensly* NOW! ..
Other Interests
Art, Physics, Stalking, and lampshades, but of course.
They changed my effin' schedule so four of my classes frollicked their way out of place. So I'm a little disoriented in my life... Although I kept my java, my physics, my math, and my creative writing... which were several of the classes I wanted to keep in their places the most for the people.
Argh, nevermind... I wanted them all.
Apparently the normal english classes required a whole new class and since thirty kids dropped ap english, they're combining my ap english with a new class to make space for a new slot of normal english.
This will improve their learning supposably, but I can't imagine the overcrowded classes even being happy abo
A soft smile, that's how I feel.
It's my favorite constant feeling.
---------------------------------------------
Apparently I'm signed up for like... way too many courses I didn't want to ever touch for the rest of my life... such as... Spanish 4...
It was a fluke I passed Spanish 3, an absolute fluke... I was never in school last year, hardly noticable, a small blip on the radar scan every other day because of that creepy vein-faint-undiagnosiable disorder.
This year though, it'll be easier... I'm sure, well sorta... I'm going to try to come in every day.
I'm pretty happy.. I feel refreshed, in control, like I found something I lost..
someone should be workkkinggg but she's not.
Maybe washing her hairrr and she reflects on the subtle beauty of DNA for a fake cd she needs to make...
but she feels so independent at this point its an absolute borefest.
Ew.
so she's doing this.
To pass the time.
and thinking up ways for character-developmental-exercises-of-the-type-relating-to-things-she-should-do.
Like.. its easy for a character... heyyyy whatsss a chiiiccckkkaaa's hair color? eyes? whats she wearing? oo thats nice.. mm.. lets see.. is she a drug dealer? no.. oh shes an orphan.
mk.
but its much hardderr to connect the dots in plot linessss *sigh* like.. you know you