hear i go, scream my lungs outi need out.
Newest
painSteep steps Stapled on carpet Your hands wrap entirely around my waistpain
Fingertip to thumb print Because we both know I’m secretly afraid of the dark
We can’t even make it to bed.
My feet off the ground
We are in the attic An entity of its own
Population: 2
Gasping, we stumble to bed
I suck the air from your lungs And we are helpless Fingers spread trying to grab
Every cell caught in our skin
“sometimes, I just like the feel of you” You said.
We are in the attic. In the bed.
I wanted a
by ~stelledemio
as i go-I woke up this morning with the silence of knowing- or was it- science- of knowing? some hour between midnight and daylight my sleepy fingers signed that across a receipt for flowers that my aunt sent me but when i woke up this morning i did not have the silence of knowing or even, the science of knowing no wisp of moonlit wisdomas i go
clung to the tangles in my hair i couldnt even find the pen
with the chewed up end that my friend says is a sign of sexual frustration (if that is true then i have been sexually frustrated since i was two) i jammed my face against
by ~stelledemio
skinjostling and jumbling a crowded streetskin
on a burning, sticky day eyes are stripping off my clothes with a different heat that is much more lethal than fire
my pores fill
by ~stelledemio
tiresi am waiting to burntires
in the gaze of melted irises brimming to the black
i will be taken over the fight for power is always predictable
a crossing of the thighs a study of the hips subtle shadows across the dashboard a flow of conversation pouring towards the pillow
lips painted red heels arched high
i am not original in my seduction
your shirts are collared you smoke cigarettes lady and gentleman disheveled in the back seat
we heat a screen across the windows feeling through the haze my ankles demurely uncross &
by ~stelledemio
Favourites
the monster we madeI look into the crimson pool,the monster we made
I see what I have become...
I hate what I see, and try to run from it; but every turn I take, I see that horror I see the monster I have become and as I look into its eyes...
I see that the monster it's not me, It's the force of hate that we feed... I see the monster, that we all have become.
Am I the only one? Am I alone in my fight...? I hope not.
by ~zeldaconnetion
bubble boyby ~roveberg
Watchers
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: the san francisco
- Interests: dancing traveling shopping writing reading and assorted r-rated activities
- Favourite movie: uhm i like lots of movies, but in a little bit i'm gonna watch when harry met sally so... that one.
- Favourite band or musician: broken social scene, metric, j.e.w., cursive, feist, the decemberists, elliot smith, the faint
- Favourite genre of music: what genre do those bands fit in?
- Favourite artist: uhm.. chris thile. i think. sure. him.
- Favourite poet or writer: lawrence ferlinghetti, e.e. cummings, oscar wilde
- Favourite photographer: one that makes me look pretty?
- Favourite style of art: i dont discriminate!
- Operating System: what?
- MP3 player of choice: ipod...
- Shell of choice: a sea shell?
- Wallpaper of choice: now you're just getting nosy
- Skin of choice: bare
- Favourite game: why do you spell favorite with a u in it?
- Favourite gaming platform: im not a computer nerd
- Favourite cartoon character: stewie
- Personal Quote: "when you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on"
- Tools of the Trade: my head, my paper, my pen, your emotions
- AIM: tinygoldndancer
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Cheers, Glenn
--
"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but, rather, to skid in sideways, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming: 'Wow! What a ride!'"
CHEERS
--
"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but, rather, to skid in sideways, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming: 'Wow! What a ride!'"
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