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Scarecrow Green W. Body ImageSCARECROW
the trees are still green.
ive got a boy in each ear screaming in a strained falsetto, "find god, then fuck, rub war paint over your collar and choke those dreams of adolescent fancy!"
maybe not in that order.
i feel that those might be reasonable demands.
if not, ill stay a virgin forever and stop posting my barely lucid projections on cross walk buttons so the world can join me in confusion.
ive decided to marry myself to this moment, a rubber band ring on my finger and everything.
i cant tell if theyre asking for a fire or a union.
all i can hear is sex and murder, a whisper of masturbation.
the feral cry signifies a busted climax so maybe these boys are in love and the songs merely rut against each other.
its a valid enough theory.
a part of me hopes that they become beautiful monsters when the lights go out.
for them my heart goes.
today ive decided not to believe in love.
its a silly little thing, not suitable for children my age
"just jealous 'cause we're young and in love."
im jotting this down overlooking stairs to the concrete people playing evergreen games until the grass hits and feet sink against the movement.
my fear is the position to topple into bodily harm, she told me because my statements were laced, hardly contrary to the truth. and my knees are buckling, body sways forward and panic spray paints my senses 'til they're all bright yellow. i fall backwards on my ass, knees pressed tight to my chest so i can breathe normal again.
luckily no ones noticed that its happened for the third time tonight.
it might be a bit cliche to proclaim myself toeing the edges of our small existence 63 percent of the time.
eyes closed and learning how to meditate, recite the best poem ever written to the better half of my memory that sits in the dark until special moments when i wish to remember how to make decisions based on my mistakes.
this is different.
im listening to someone else's favorite song, strike to my ski
Sunglassesi look down and my hands are clasped, the light washing over them in broken stretches, intervals like broken clockwork. fingers interlocked atop the plaid fabric draped down and around my hips.
for the past hour or so ive been writing in my head.
about boys and girls.
those who i have, haven't, should've and desperately want to kiss. im 16, so honestly, theres nothing else for me to write about.
i wanted to start this with a sentence in my mental draft that would state, more or less, 'i tell him i love him but im not sure by what definition i hold it, perhaps whichever he feels it to be.'
something like that.
its about a boy who ive kissed despite knowing just how much i should not have. because my decision making skills are just about as flawed as my parents' are.
i guess i wouldve gotten all poetic about it too. about the songs hes sang to me and how hes just a stepping stone that i paused at, knowing it was merely 'til i truly get what i want (sniff, i say, 'what i had'), but no mat
Blackbirdthe sound of breathing over labored guitar chords.
he says 'rooftop', i think E minor, maybe binary code.
its just that simple.
with an arpeggio inhale and the positioning of awkward fingertips.
now hes humming something i cant discern and the song is supposed to be about lonliness, he says, a thin mouth tilted up in the corner.
'lovely melancholy' i say to myself.
but i hear moonlight and silver glinting off earlobes, hollowed in the dark.
dont believe theyre lonely, more but reaching out from the edges.
scribbles in the corner of papers with outstretched arms, to use figurative language.
a tendency to ask what i am writing, always thinking it be about himself (8th grade memories floating like notebook paper, i remember, small smile and bright eyes.)
right now the sound is repetition, shifting soft and to a feeling--green grass like comforters and arena seating.
and i can hear what this is asking for, a mirror imaged and a sideways glance through crowds.
to break his concentration, th
Counter Topi need to make that night seem more poetic when i write it down.
inject some sorry romanticism into those few moments.
felt like i had no face and even with the lilt of eyebrows, creases in the corners of my forced smile, the expression wouldnt have mattered anyway.
they dont explain it to you in those middle school classes.
the overwhelming sense of power found in sometimes hazel eyes, bright in dimly-lit rooms.
yet crippled in knowing how these things tend to mean nothing.
how my knees give out and quiver.
how in the minutes before, my lips mirrored the action, trying not to weep for the need of piteous decisions.
and voices are obsolete.
but breathing means everything.
i might actually call that my own, unless imagination runs wild and my skin goes blank for an open canvas---close your eyes and see anyone else you want to hold.
theres nothing at all beautiful to see when i let myself be picked apart for the sake of wanting someone i cant have, even when hes looping his perfect finge
Criss-Cross Designthe light has then adjusted
some twenty times since
weve been staring
with hair caught behind cold ears
and the irises expanding
for there is no way
to go blind in these rooms
with white-washed vision
blotting out dark figures
as they might rise slowly
in some distance
but you might switch these lines
to different angles
looking out windows
see the dull drone
of brown eyes
against brick walls
im writing your movement
as i stare at this pen
conjuring some demon
kill you dead
with the unrelenting desire
of this swirling madness
out the tip and over the page
so i could draw the distance
of just where you migh
be looking and write
those lines back to my eyes
and my mouth
because they are both open, staring
as you look anywhere but for me
Adenei've got a safety pin fastened through a collar and a name i dont know fit under the swollen rasp of my dry tongue.
the name like peril, little girls in sunday dresses, celestial in the songs they sing.
as if i knew that definition.
maybe stringing descriptions along branches and stuck with metal points, rusting red through the sides.
spelling out letters with stick tips in teh dirt and memorizing lines on her knees, with her hands upon the ground.
with hair threaded through like loops about her fingertips, passed through pink tinged lips and breathin in her air through filters, left there speechless.
reflecting the sun and leaving their sketches on tree trunks.
the countours gold, eyes closed and blind to the moment.
spit at her feet and found mud squished through toes, causing dissension among the ranks.
and she speaks quietly to the pins in her shoulders that whatever youre seeing, its not happening.
i say Adene, you draw a picture and the lines overlap.
running like water.
We Can See Thisive found out that these lives are like movies and the voices set are scripted pieces of beauty.
my gaze, taciturn, green grass in graveyards.
lifting his chin with the tips of my fingers.
as if holding the pose, fighting breath under water.
and walking away, found an exit through hanging branches of willows wilting in the heat of some lost summer.
the glances then fashioned are disguised 'round my fingers in trying to remember why i could not look away as he tread over flowers, skipping over their stories held in the words chipped into cold stone.
unless laying on the park bench and closing my eyes, finding letters encrypted in the stones thrown at my feet.
if set to the chorus of the soundtracks so celluloid, you could find our names up in the lights of grocery store tabloids.
because we are stars.
pretending out way through the moment of fake love, shielding faces from sunlight in late afternoons.
Hair Clip in Those Bedroomsdarling
i can hear the quirk in your voice
so i know its not okay
and im not gonna tell you i approve
but hes gone on an ego trip
and it extends beyond the hours of jet lag
that pulls you into his arms
from whence he might throw you upon the ground
to hear his drunken hero stories
the fatigue breathes alcohol into his thoughts
and theres that girl that we know
the one that i love more than the world
who whispers two names into everyones ear
and plays off the repercussions as her innocence
so lets all nod and call this okay
i remember the summer
when we smiled
as they played out the night in the comfort of bedrooms
it was okay wasnt it
the dialogue of deception
and hes lining your ears with it
its not the soar of piano concertos
and sonnets spoken with the bow of stringed instruments
if he looks you in the eyes with sunflowers in your vision
know to stare away
because is it not preconceived in the hours that he travels back in time
back to you
to whisper that hes not sure of what you ar
evening sunlight, filtered
birds singing, sweetly
echoes heard, distinctly
breezy wind, intensifying
rain falling, softly
lightning flashes, brighter
heart pounding, faster
blood rushing, hotter
body movements, stronger
breathing rhythms, panting
rainbow colors, flashing
firework display, dazzling
earth beneath, shaking
raging river, surging
Big Bang theory, confirmed!
flooding waters, ebbing
earth beneath, quivering
firework display, dimming
rainbow colors, morphing
breathing rhythm, slowing
body movements, subtle
blood flowing, normal
heart beating, steady
lightning flashes, over
wind blowing, lightly
echoes fading, distant
birds singing, sweetly
morning sun, unfiltered
Afterglow theory, confirmed!
Falling From Your LoveHey you, with shining azure eyes,
and hair to rival Cytherea.
I have lost myself in your embrace
but wish never to be free again.
I feel as though I have fallen
for you from the high of your love-
Or perhaps jumped into the pools
that shine like stars whene’re you smile.
There is some subtle difference
between the breathless act of falling,
and the daring risk of jumping.
But both leave you for a moment,
floating so far above the clouds.
From this high heaven I look down,
and see you, anchor to the world.
You hold me fast and keep me close
Your velvet flower holds my heart,
deep within its smoldering walls-
your honey flows to meet my own,
and form a river of our love.
We share more passion in a glance
than it would take to light the sun-
The bliss of making love is cold
when set against your lightest touch.
Hey you, my softly glowing moon-
I want to share my heart with you,
you, who own all of who I am.
I’m waiting for the day I fall,
from the high of loving you
If all the oceans were to flood this land
I cannot think that the relentless waves
Should ever wash the perfume from these trees,
Nor the heavy clouded sky eclipse the stars,
Nor dim the crimson in the setting sun.
But not the strength of heav'n nor all the gods
Could calm the tempest roiling in my soul
Which inundates my thoughts with such desire
As could not be spent in one thousand nights
And kisses for each ripple of the sea.
She lies beneath me like a continent,
Her skin like ivory, her hair like silk.
With fair, round belly and the breasts of Venus,
My treasure smiles at me with teeth of pearl,
And I see a fire no vessel could contain.
Though other men revere her as a saint
They'll never know the sweetness of her flesh
Nor revel in the music of her moans.
Her every inch alive beneath my touch-
no chaste icon of alabaster she
For how could angels' snow-white purity
As warm and welcoming as her embraces be?
Lord, let her light burn bright forevermore.
Let my fair warrior's spirit b
Tea TimeYou like me like you take your tea.
Like your tea I’m here sugary sweet.
Like your tea I’m pale and smooth.
A milky white.
Like your tea I’m to be enjoyed slowly.
Calmly enjoying the aromas, the tastes.
Like your tea I’m to be gulped down in a hurry.
You need it more than want it.
Like your tea I’m to be forgotten all together.
The pot is full.
The desire isn’t.
Like your tea I’m here when you fancy.
I need him. (ZADR)My heart jumped as I saw Dib start his long fall down to the ocean waves…meh. She got him. Pitiful human piloting skills. I wince as he crashes into the water…Perhaps he survived? Bah who cares.
…You do. You know you do. After being here for 5 years, you began to have feelings for the Dib-Human. You need him. He’s the only one that thinks you’re capable of doing something…in other words…he doesn’t find you useless.
I clutch at my chest at the realization.
“Gir, bring the ship now.” I say through clenched teeth. I need to save him…
It takes about two minutes for the ship to get there. I hop in and speed to where I saw him fall. I fly low scanning my eyes over the waves for any sign of life. I gasp softly as I see his black jacket floating in the water.
…My ship can’t go in water…
I slowly open the slide door, and cringe at the water. Can I do this..? This could potentially kill me. For god’
Pleasurable PainPhysical tension, emotional friction
The pain you cause is my addiction
I wouldn't say I'm a masochist
But I prefer it when you bite, not kiss
Permission"If I ever meet you again, and if you allow me to, I will do anything and everything that you want me to do to you.
I will build you up to the point you explode, and then I will make every second, every minute last.
Torture your body for hours until you scream.
Feel every crevice, and stimulate every nerve till your brain shuts down.
You have no idea the depths of which are in my mind, the lessons I've learn and the power I hold that I cannot wait to unleash unto you.
Do not expect it, just be surprised and patient.
I will turn your world asunder.
Drive every inch of your thought process to the brink of your primal desires.
And then stare into your eyes as you lay there, watching, it all happen.
All this pent up frustration that has been built, I will release.
But only... only if you allow me to."
second confessionthere are those who settle that love is enough
to keep the revolutions in place. my weight was
uncentered, and even you
could not balance
illness i succumbed to every
season. even you cannot stay
to carry on what i have
not yet thrown off course.
i have thrown a lot.
there is not much left of
which you can love.
he told me that he had loved me in february.
i had loved him even in the sharpest winds
of march. i loved him
fucking another girl,
i loved him
august september november
i love him when he fucks me.
i love him when he does not.
i love him when he is a cord
warped around every intention;
i make decisions
in hope that the
is delivered from him
in our adulterous
your skin is wax
and i leave marks.
it deliquesces in my presence
you spend saturday
and the end of monday
in my bed
are what holds my flame.
but i will flicker out
only when there is
Just Want To Be Seennot wanting a lover
just needing the
and recognized for being
look at them
each a week
gone for the years
mounting as theyre passing
seen a face
and there a smile
in backward places
a mothers only
a desperate one
in the back
shiny new tires
and a glistening frame
too original to be real
ending up sore
bruised about the mouth
fighting to the last breath
for no particular reason
just needing to
keep an honor
engrained to tell
he says im
still fond of you
speaking in the most
no one needs
just wanting then
and parted beauty
in a little time
relating to a notion
thats been played over and over
while theyre sleeping
wallowing in having nothing
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More