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Literature Text
Transfer your desires into my blood with your hands.
Time treats with care the waves that seep from nothing
but take one; the camera's blurry in our eyes
and take two means hiding from the flies.
Isn't it hilarious that I melt when it's freezing out?
The air around my head is growing molecularly thin.
The way the eyes pierce is why I bleed
and the way the eyes pierce is all I need.
So, why would the words from my mouth be needed
when the words that arise from the silence will suffice?
I slip only on the painful bits
and that's why I'll never and always trip on your lips.
Where the mist turns pink,
that's where I want us to vaporize
into what we see and what we don't,
forgetting the boundary of the love we express and the love we won't.
Let's slip into our own subliminal tendencies.
Let habitual fear transform into temporary bliss.
I feel the rainbow shadows blend into my reflection.
Heavenly hyper active insomnia is indistinguishable from my affection.
What if I was born this way?
My viens flow with taurine promises.
My existence was so sudden, I thought I wasn't meant to be.
My best friends used to talk about me like a monster from a prophecy.
Beauty and the Beast is my book and I linger in the syllables
Burn the white lights that sparkle in my soul.
God, I pray nothing interrupts this loss of choice.
I can hear the pain escaping through the trembles in my voice.
Today I stared into the sun and saw a reflection.
Smoke fade, night shade, and the illusion is gone.
Existence is sparkling with your element,
the current of emotion the permanent memory and sole testament.
Time treats with care the waves that seep from nothing
but take one; the camera's blurry in our eyes
and take two means hiding from the flies.
Isn't it hilarious that I melt when it's freezing out?
The air around my head is growing molecularly thin.
The way the eyes pierce is why I bleed
and the way the eyes pierce is all I need.
So, why would the words from my mouth be needed
when the words that arise from the silence will suffice?
I slip only on the painful bits
and that's why I'll never and always trip on your lips.
Where the mist turns pink,
that's where I want us to vaporize
into what we see and what we don't,
forgetting the boundary of the love we express and the love we won't.
Let's slip into our own subliminal tendencies.
Let habitual fear transform into temporary bliss.
I feel the rainbow shadows blend into my reflection.
Heavenly hyper active insomnia is indistinguishable from my affection.
What if I was born this way?
My viens flow with taurine promises.
My existence was so sudden, I thought I wasn't meant to be.
My best friends used to talk about me like a monster from a prophecy.
Beauty and the Beast is my book and I linger in the syllables
Burn the white lights that sparkle in my soul.
God, I pray nothing interrupts this loss of choice.
I can hear the pain escaping through the trembles in my voice.
Today I stared into the sun and saw a reflection.
Smoke fade, night shade, and the illusion is gone.
Existence is sparkling with your element,
the current of emotion the permanent memory and sole testament.
Literature
Memoria in aeterna
To say that Cassandra was an influence on my life, is like saying the ocean is big. Such simple words cannot convey the vastness, the complexities, and the intricacies of who she was to me.
She was so large a part of my life, that with the naivety of the young, I assumed she would forever be there. She was an unchanging force from my childhood, a rock through my youth, and a friend in my adulthood. It still seems hard to fathom that she is gone.
I want to tell you who she was to me:
She was my inspiration. I remember watching her draw, and swallowing up every pencil stroke. I'd ask questions, and she'd slowly go over lines, telling me the
Literature
Waiting
If I were to count the ones before,
I'd need to use four walls,
Each little mark, a flame of life,
Dropped like a leaf in fall.
We're all aware, we can't prepare,
We know what's 'round the bend,
We wake and smile even if we know,
Some won't make it to this day's end.
Waiting, waiting, agony,
Like toys on store display,
I look at all of you and think,
'Will this be your last day?'
Look there, a tear.
My reflection cries.
It's just not fair, just sitting here,
Waiting for the end of our lives.
Literature
~Torture~
~Torture~(10/10/2018/Poem 357)
My fingers upon the carved blade
A giggle of madness upon my lips
By now you are wishing you had stayed
And not been swayed by my curvy hips
I slide the blade down your cheek
Dancing with delicious delight
It is your torment I do forcefully seek
Covered in blood you make a pretty sight
I trail a finger through your crimson blood
Maddening glee as I taste it from my fingertips
Through your body you terror does flood
As down your body more blood drips
I gleefully carve your skin to pieces
Making you scream in beautiful pain
Horror my torture unleashes
As my wicked smile is utterly insane
I take some acid in a
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I want him to be just like this.
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