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you, a garden.your flesh like smooth-lilies,
eyes like cosmic-daffodils.
there is the garden of your soul,
which i have often wandered-
plucking at petals and
blissfully unaware that beauty lives
only when observed through gentle eyes,
and withers at the slightest touch of
this is not fucking.with her-
i am confused,
my soul full of light-black contrasts
forms with no line
heavy value with no colour
deep strokes in graphite, charcoal
the blackest-whites and whitest-blacks
a thousand grays
warm through cool, but never
crossing the spectrum into reality
subconscious murmurs, whispers
thick moans dripping with lust
this is my body and my mind
rough outlines of thoughts
and your hands so soft
against the mountains of my spine
i feel your warmth,
your lasting heat
your fingernails so gentle against my shoulder-blades
making 3d planes on my framework
i move with you in my soul
“and the holy dove was moving too”
this is not fucking
this is making love in the spiritual sense
i am wrapping my arms around your eyelids
clutching at your desires
breathing out your next breath
inhaling your carbon dioxide,
this is nirvana
we are together now
not fucking, no
this is not just the union of two bodies
this is the ov
i am conflicted.and i am lost in a reality of
“maybe” spoken by head, and
“yes” spoken by heart.
i am but orchids pushing through the sidewalk cracks-
or the cause of an untimely change in direction.
i am the gasping of lovers ripe with lust,
and smoke ring o’s of those stuck in til’ death do they part.
i am ill,
ripped in opposite directions;
i am a living paradox.
how is it that friendship turned into false love?
“no” unhesitatingly spoken and
so quickly withdrawn, agony in each “i’m sorry.”
in my desire for the anecdote to my loneliness,
i paved a road of inevitable collapse.
what is it that i thought could come of this,
what did i so foolishly submit myself to?
why do i always follow my head instead of my heart?
i am done fitting myself into this sharp-edged box of my own creation,
done with my self-inflicted unhappiness,
done with overthinking the simplest things.
i am following my half-soul,
my bruised insides s
the city song.it burns it’s harsh breath through my lungs. bitter grinds of tobacco and old coffee sting my throat- their taste spreading to my fingertips and tingling violently; i have seen wolves and dark shadows in the corners of my eyes but screams are now tormenting my subconscious. when i listen to the music of the winds in cities black with pollution i can hear women pleading for mercy and cruel laughs of evil men. they deliver images of rape and abuse through my dreams.
when will the world show the angry creatures lurking under porches and young children’s beds? they hide but move swiftly and their reign is becoming apparent.
i can see people walking with their clothing strewn low and their hats turned backwards; their breath is of highs and lows and all that creeps in between the lines. self-discovery is self-mutilation and it difficult for most to come to terms with their true vile nature.
a gunshot rings in the night- it is not just a sound but an implication of death and fear
The Lost PrinceThis is about Louis-Charles,
hear his story through
it took up his entire life,
but is only a minute to you.
He was young and he was kind,
his nature innocent.
He took not one person's life,
but now he lies discontent.
He was taken from his mother
when red, white and blue;
had taken people's minds and burned through.
He and his parents were secluded,
in a room built for two.
He screamed for his governess,
and she could only save little Lou.
His mother's hair is spread
over the base of a guillotine,
his father soon will follow
with fear barely seen.
Little Louis is all alone now,
taken away from his governess-
and all she can do is sadly vow
to never let them surround him in darkness.
She quickly bounds up the roof,
her feet wrapped in gauze.
The guards have not yet found any proof
for the firework's cause.
She's bringing you light little Louis,
she'll never abandon her post
because you asked for beauty,
and you're the one for which she cares the most.
a pathetic poem for you.
your hair is black as night
and though you have no wings,
you always seem to take flight.
your pores are dripping with light,
i soak in all of these things
(i scream in delight).
and unlike you she was dark,
her passion low- she brings
memories of pain and of leaving marks.
she was like a shark,
you like spring
you brought me out of those cries and barks.
you taught me how to sing.
it feels like strings are cutting off my circulation- jerky movements that don't cease (i'm side to side up to down thrown towards the sky).
i'm a puppet to my addictions.
your raw-edge-hands are tracing the outline of my frock dress. old-skin rough-callouses unwanted hands. i remember them and i think of glass and ash. your hair was red and so was your bed, that i knew so very well. i remember your contrast-form on the sheets. you were dreaming but you were dead- drunk and passed out. i wept. my age was young, at only one when you gave me love for grown-ups and prom and under the starlight with candles.
i guess i'll stop trying to make it sound beautiful. there is nothing to bring light to. this darkness brought no light.
sometimes my words aren't pretty- sometimes they aren't sweet. (right now they're filled with pain and loss and defeat.)
i see you sometimes in the shadows and under the moon. the wind is running its hands through your hair. you look tired. (go to sleep daddy, please go to sleep now.)
it's hard to remember when all you want to do is forget. (when your dreams are filled with only love and regret.)
stop it daddy, it hurts.
lessons learned from seven men...- I -
I hate that you issued instructions like Don't put on any weight, you're small so it would really show, at a time when food was already the enemy and starvation felt like feeding the parts of me that were anchorless.
But I love that you showed me that You're so different from anyone I've ever been with actually means We are way too different for this to work and saved me a lot of future heartache.
- II -
I hate that you misunderstood yourself so much that it made you suspicious of everyone around you.
But I love that certain places will always hold magic for me because of the journeys we took together.
- III -
I hate that you walked away from something potentially lovely, if only ever destined to be temporary, because the people who were actually important in your life wouldn't have approved.
But I love that you reminded me that strength of character is a tr
BeautyAs his lips parted from mine, I felt the warmth left by them and tasted his sweet love on the tip of my tongue. Opening my eyes, I looked him and smiled before turning away and blushing, biting my lip. His legs straddled mine as I sat up against the wall and I felt him firm against my crotch, softly and pleasantly touching my clit. This was the happiest I'd ever been and I reached up under his shirt, resting my palm against his chest to feel his rapid heart rate.
"I still got it," I whispered, smiling.
"You never lost it." he muttered before reaching up my top to mirror my action. I felt my face flush as I stroked him lovingly, wondering how I could ever deserve such a wonderful, handsome man. As if he'd read my mind, he leaned forward. Carefully undoing my bra and beginning to massage my breasts, he gently kissed my ear with his lips and said, with a crack of emotion in his voice "you are exquisite...".
I thought about how I felt with him and taking my hand awa
Talking Without WordsThere is a point at which you know. There is a time at which you realize that things will never work out the way you want them to. Let’s call it the end of the line.
You just got home from a concert. As you’re going down the stairs to collapse in your bed in exhaustion, and you accidentally bump into her and her friend. You say hello, her friend responds. You get into some pointless discussion as she takes the opportunity to sneak by you, without a word. You say goodnight; she doesn’t respond.
You’re walking down Glouster Road. You just emerged from the Piccadilly Line of the Underground and you’re walking home. You see her walking on the other side of the street, coming towards you. As you glance at her, she looks up at you. You flash her a smile and send her a wave. She keeps walking.
It’s December, the last day of the semester. Time to go to Heathrow, time to go home. You want to say goodbye. So you go to her, and you say goodbye. She says what yo
confessions full of jack 12Confessions are against my nature. I have always been secretive, and nobody needs to see and smell my internal organs. I am only confessing to rid futile information of their power, I am only confessing to make room for real secrets.
Total mistake ch. 2 The beginning
3.14 is from one village, which is about 6-7 km at north from regional town. I lived in other village, maybe also 6-7km but at east from regional town. These villages are too different. First time we met in our school in this town. Everybody says it´s hole or the biggest hole (it´s also the name of one song about this town). I know a lot of people who call it crater. However, it is the 11th biggest town in Slovakia.
I remember the project made by 3.14 and other classmates about old town. When there was president of Slovakia there (I think it was before Second World War), he visited one beautiful church. He said: „Such a treasure in such a hole. “
It is not important now. I and 3.14 were always in different classes. Our ways first met in 5th c
Ode to a Dead Fish
Somewhere across the immense topography of time, in a little inlet lapping peacefully along the shore, you are still swimming. A flash of silver darting among waving plants in the dappled sunlight. You have no name and you took no thought of yourself. Your future was just right around the bend.
Around that bend something happened, maybe to the water, and you floated serenely down to settle into the sands of time. You lay nicely stretched out while you were covered by the blankets of eons for a long winter's sleep.
Then there came a time when the sun shone once again on your bed in the sand. Your bed had grown hard while the world had gone on about its way since you first lay down. Someone scratching around in the rocks had found you and broken you loose from the rest of your familiar sand and had put you up for sale. I don't know how many hands you passed through before I bought you. I gave you as a gift to my father. You see, he was a fisherman...n
He left when I was 23. I'd known him since I was 16 and he was 15. At the end, he knew I was gay. I don't know what he was. I didn't ask or discuss the matter of us at all. How could I have been so foolish?
At first I wasn't even attracted to him. But it wasn't long before we became best friends, surely the best of all possible relationships. We spent pretty much all our time outside of school together. It wasn't until three years later that I knew I was in love. The first time. I didn't know how to act, what to do. It was a time and place of conformity, of unquestioned sins, of keeping your thoughts to yourself. There was a mix of joy and stress.
After high school, he went to the Navy. He had to go; I was able to avoid it. I was no soldier, even though as I was about to leave the examination place for the draft, an officer dangled the prospect of Officer Candidate School in front of me because of my test score, which I knew was perfect. I was completel
My New ThingsSo, my viewers now know that "iwtbag" stands for I want to be a girl. I currently own two things of lip gloss, 2 mascara sticks, and a pair of cute black skintight leggings. What else should I get and should I post pictures here?
14.April.2014Write a few sentences by completing these phrases: “I’d like to be…” “I am…”
I’d like to be more toned in my muscles.
I am at my goal weight.
I’d like to be more outgoing.
I am a good listener.
I’d like to be more focused in school.
I am very well organized.
I’d like to utilize my time more efficiently.
I am able to learn from mistakes.
I’d like to be more confident in myself.
I am willing to try new things.
an honest letter.
if i only had one minute left to live i would cry because you weren't here with me.
although, maybe i would just remember you and hope you had the best life possible. you deserve it, you know. you always try to boost my self-esteem, but you don't love yourself nearly as much as i think you should. i don't know, i just think you deserve to be happy- so fucking happy that it isn't even funny. what can i do that will make you content? even the most random thing, i'll do it.
you help me much more than you could imagine. even though i smoke and burn and cut and cry i always get through it, but if i didn't have you i might not be so lucky.
so, i guess what i'm trying to say is thank you for making my life worth living.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More