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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
Jeff The Killer x Reader - The Knife Game
(y/n) – your name
You were walking in the kitchen to grab your self some grub. As you reached the refrigerator you heard Jeff stabbing the table.
“Jeff why are you stabbing the table?” you asked
“ (y/n) I’m not stabbing the table… I’m playing the knife game”
You heard of the knife game before but never really bothered to play it. It was stupid to even begin with.
“ (y/n) you wanna play?” he asked.
“ No I’m not stupid like you“ you said in a concerned way.
“ I might be stupid but at least I’m not a chicken”
Immediately after Jeff called you stupid, you began going bizarre.
“ Fine ! I’ll play your stupid little game & I’ll admit I’m not a chicken”
You grabbed the knife, put your right hand on the table, separated all your fingers so they would have spaces between them, & started the game.
Oh, I have all my fingers
The knife goes chop chop chop
If I miss the space
Alfred X Reader- 'Special Egg'
You sighed in frustration as you continued to look around your yard for this so called 'special egg'.
You were currently bent over and scurrying around the yard like a chicken looking for some feed. Your boyfriend Alfred was leaning against the giant Oak tree smiling at you the whole time.
Yes, it was Easter the time of the year for chocolate bunnies and eggs filled with sweet treats.
Alfred Jones, being the childish guy that he is decided to hide some eggs filled with candy for you to find which you did until he said there was a special egg that had to be found and that it had something important in it.
So far, you spent an hour looking for this damn egg until you spotted something colorful in the hole of the tree next to Alfred. You quickly scurried over to it and snatched it up as your glare rested on Alfred who was laughing.
"Are you serious!" Your red, flushed up face was in Alfred's as he only chuckled and patted your shoulders.
"I'm sorry babe, I couldn't resist but at least you
[Chapter 6] No Regrets [Levi x Fem!Reader]
You fist the covers and pull it over your mouth, shivering. The cold is starting to seep through the blanket, and despite your body forming a ball, it’s still cold. You let out a huff of annoyance, and your eyes shoot open. Isabel is resting peacefully beside you, and Farlan has his back turned to her. The steady rise and fall of his shoulders tells you that he’s sleeping as well.
If only I could sleep insouciantly like them. You muse to yourself, turning so that you are facing away from them. You expect to see Levi’s back, but you are met with nothing but the rumpled sheets where he once slept. Gingerly, you roll onto your stomach and scan the area for any signs of the dark-haired male. He’s nowhere in sight, so, as carefully and as quietly as you can, you leave the safety of the blankets and trail outside.
You are met by the shine of the moon, and you pause for a moment to admire the beautiful, silvery orb. The longer you watch it, the more you forget w
Bucky x Reader : : HaircutBucky x Reader
She thought he couldn't hear her. He could. He heard her every footstep as she silently approached him. She was trying to be sneaky, that much was obvious. She failed. So bad. The only reason he didn't interrupt her little 'stealth mode' was because he wanted to see how long it took before she gave up and because he found it entertaining.
She managed to get behind the couch he was lazing on. As she raised the scissors in her hand, he called out.
"Don't even thing about it."
After the failed stealth mission, (Your Name) tried a different approach. She instead wrapped her arms around his torso tightly while trying to convince (bribe) him into getting a haircut.
"Pleeeease," she begged for the utmost time.
"No." he replied in his deep husky voice. His resolve was strong, but (Your Name) felt that she could break him. It was only a matter of the right bribe.
"I'll be nice to you for the whole week."
"I'll do you
[Attack on Titan] Letting Go [LevixReader]
He always knew that after what conspired between the two of you, there was a small chance for you to find someone else to replace him as the object of your affections. He was able to convince himself that this was for the best, not just for his safety, but for yours as well.
After all, he’s a soldier and he’s seen the destructive force of love when intertwined on the battlefield.
He just didn’t want the same to happen to you.
He didn’t want you to lose him.
He didn’t want to lose you.
So his answer to you that day was:
It hurt to see your face cringe the way it did when you heard his answer, and it hurt even more when you walked out his door. But he did nothing to stop you because this was his resolve; this was his promise to you. He wanted to be able to secure your safety. He’d rather live knowing that you hated him than find your dead corpse hanging off the branch of a tree or, worse yet, in the jaws of a Titan. He’d rather
RomanoxReader - I (Love)Lovino merely stared at _______ and her boyfriend, Gilbert. He knew, from the ways she smiled at the Prussian, that her feelings for him were fake. The only problem was, she didn't have the guts to break up with him. And, it was really stressing Lovino out.
'Just leave him, ragazza. I can't fucking wait forever.' Lovino thought. He had been in love with ______ for God knows how long. And, she was either incredibly stupid, or had other things to worry about, because she ignored the obvious signs that he liked her.
With a sigh, the Italian went home. As soon as he got home, he looked at a piece of paper that he kept under his pillow. It was a song he had written around three months ago, when ______ started dating Gilbert. He was so focused on the paper in his hand, that he didn't notice his door open.
"What are you reading, fratello?" Feliciano asked. Lovino looked at his brother after jumping out of shock.
"Nothing! What do you want!?" Lovino yelled. Feliciano looked at the piece of pap
Gold x Reader x Silver. My Heroes.
There’s no looking back once I take this step on the boat. Should I stay? But there’s nothing here for me anymore. I guess I should go. Goodbye Gold, and Silver.
A slight breeze blew through my hair, and I just looked at my feet as I remember the day I met the two. Back then I only had my (Johto starter) as my only friend, however all the other kids made fun of me, or they were my fake friends, like this guy named “Damien.”
“We dare you to go in that building over there.” Damien said as he pointed at the Burnt tower in Ecruteak city.
“B-but, it has ghost pokemon. Y-you know I’m afraid of t-t-them…..”
“I guess someone is Chicken. Bock bock bock.”
“Well then go in there.”
I started to walk towards the doors of Burnt tower with them snickering behind me. I took out (Johto Starter)’s pokeball, and he
Red x Reader. Easter Egg Hunt.
“Hey Everyone! Dinner is ready!~” Blue sang at the top of her lungs.
“HEY GREEN I HEARD THAT!”
“YOU WERE MEANT TO HEAR IT!!”
Today is Easter, and all of the Pokedex holders came to your house to your house for a grand easter dinner. Your Crush Red was here, Red never said a word so you never knew if he likes you or not, but determining on the way he always looks at Yellow, its most likely a not……
“HEY ______!! What’s for Dinner!?!” Dia yelled at you from across the house.
“You know everyone’s favorites. But Dia it’s Still Lunch and we haven’t done the Easter Egg hunt.”
“YAY!~ I LOVE EASTER EGG HUNTS!~” Dia, and Blue both sang.
“she is going to give me a headache…”
“NO I’M NOT GREEN!”
“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW IT’S MY HEAD, PESKY WOMAN!”
Blue, and Green just kept Yelling at each other, so
Stalker!Flirty!Eridan X Lonely!Reader Chapter 1
Today is your birthday. You're turning 19 and are sitting on the beach sand, comforted by the sound of waves and the water brushing your feet occasionally. You were alone here though. Why? Because your parents don't care for you. You're rich and get everything you could ever ask for...
Except for love...
Love. How you despised thinking of that word. That word was like a lie to you. Nobody had ever shown you any form of love. You had no real friends, they all just wanted something from you. You knew this because they'd bring it up later about how they really needed money or something. If you were in a bad mood you threw whatever it was that they wanted at them so they'd leave. It was a lonely life.
That's when you saw something. You blinked.
There it was again!
You saw a young man, about your age, peering at you through the waves. Only his eyes up to his head was showing. His skin was gray and his eye colour strange. He had what looked to be
UNTITLEDWhen leaning over the cool metal of a barrier, into dark trees and darker water, things seem dismal.
In looking down an expanse of disconnection, being stranded, everything seems hopeful.
People standing in their groups while I stood in isolation.
Cool air nipping at my naked heels, up my exposed legs. Shivering slightly in a well-fitting sweater and perfectly worn down skirt.
My face bright yet downtrodden by fatigue.
With warm ears and a cold nose.
Something I never cared to take note of before.
Sounds like being alone, over an ocean, walking out to sea or such.
And singing througn the darkness.
Wandering under street lamps and waiting for a savior that was coming through the night.
Broken vehicles and yawning companions.
But feeling like in one moment, the cold pavement could take anyone anywhere.
And that I needed to pay more attention to the things surrounding.
Everything so beautiful, a great pair of eyes in the sky.
For once wanting to feel the same.
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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