I know you
Let the moon shimmer against starstruck waves
And I know you
The way you held my skin
But if I know you...
Hold it like your own legendary coffin.
I'm allowed to dream.
That you fall like a stupid man.
Salivating against stupider grains of sand.
Drooling like a delirious boy.
Put your life into me.
I sit numb.
The way my throat did.
And how it was relaxed
Only to be gone with scissors and lace.
Paste, like sticks of eternal wax.
I breathe it in, I feel it crack.
One day, we will return to the sickness in our brain.
Open it up like a new bottle of champagne.
And with a flourish, it will appear an opulent gold down our throats.
I cannot speak
The way my throat did.
My heart delves
And my mind gives away secrets.
I cannot flow anymore
My words--they do not connect
Help. Oh, help me.
Find me.
water under the bridge by sunlightsoul, literature
Literature
water under the bridge
I took my seat.
I remember that night,
I took off my pretenses and laid them on the table.
And I remember you took your seat.
And all you saw were my liabilities.
I'm sorry I was such a burden.
I say it with a sneer.
There is no sincerity behind my ache.
And I refuse to feed you my tears.
And was. I.
Suppose to be impressed?
That you
*flicked
my tea cup out of my hand.
you whispered goodbye.
While he sits in a throne.
Licking the salt of my lips.
I told him
I was worth having
Because he could never have me.
It's a flower haze
That brings me back to autumn
and you're just a phantom
a ghost.
That's about to miss everything.
if I were still sleeping,
I would pop open a new ice bulb.
I just know you would have done the same.
I see the gallows instead of a cross on the mantle.
As if, suddenly, I am transported to the hum of a string.
I have always wondered, my entire life.
How has she refrained?
Dressed up to the dense pearls round that long neck.
I have always considered, as far as I could remember.
How did she stop herself?
I have always been curious, to this very day.
How has she kept still?
I don't understand!
How did she not eat a bullet at the end of each and every day?
Did she not think of hollow tips shredding every cell and membrane?
After she was done tending to their pancakes, didn't she visit those opulent ties?
Or did she close her eyes?
Quenchi
Are you there, silly goose?
And I dig into the ropes that lay in a forgotten gloom.
Are you there, silly goose?
See, I can tie you up with my mind.
But I can also undress you with my hands.
Lay a kiss on our starry, little hearts.
Yet, I still ponder.
Are you there, silly goose?
Because I wrote before and I wrote again.
Letter after letter. Stamp after stamp.
Leaving quaint lacerations on my tongue.
I still feel that last hug—
I kinda liked the way it burned my skin.
The way my blood was steaming.
Clogging, dripping, seeping. For you.
All for me?
All for you.
I remember coming home that night, too.
The way I gave death a
I wish I could stay and watch you vomit up your old self in a last-ditch effort to please me.
Nights like these...
I'd rather burn incense compulsively.
Precariously lighting up my feelings.
Almost as frequently as you lying.
It's falling off like peeling skin.
Look at that, the stars tonight.
This heightened, sophomoric déjà vu has weakened my head into another tizzy.
I hope dragon's blood smoke can bring you down to earth again and one day you can rest in the ashes of a prior amity.
His betrayal was like ink in her bloodstream.
I saw her across our white picket fence, as it always was.
A warning, almost.
She was friendly, but trespassers were never allowed.
She let his voice subdue her mind and he ran over that white picket fence.
I saw it happen.
You know what he did?
He couldn't have any witnesses.
I ran for the door, to confront the miserable son of a bitch, that he couldn't get away with this.
It wasn't until a smirk of reprisal formed on his lips.
Then I knew.
And he yelled,
"I just did!"
That's when I glanced over.
And I, too, saw my trampled fence.
I know you
Let the moon shimmer against starstruck waves
And I know you
The way you held my skin
But if I know you...
Hold it like your own legendary coffin.
I'm allowed to dream.
That you fall like a stupid man.
Salivating against stupider grains of sand.
Drooling like a delirious boy.
Put your life into me.
I sit numb.
The way my throat did.
And how it was relaxed
Only to be gone with scissors and lace.
Paste, like sticks of eternal wax.
I breathe it in, I feel it crack.
One day, we will return to the sickness in our brain.
Open it up like a new bottle of champagne.
And with a flourish, it will appear an opulent gold down our throats.
I cannot speak
The way my throat did.
My heart delves
And my mind gives away secrets.
I cannot flow anymore
My words--they do not connect
Help. Oh, help me.
Find me.
water under the bridge by sunlightsoul, literature
Literature
water under the bridge
I took my seat.
I remember that night,
I took off my pretenses and laid them on the table.
And I remember you took your seat.
And all you saw were my liabilities.
I'm sorry I was such a burden.
I say it with a sneer.
There is no sincerity behind my ache.
And I refuse to feed you my tears.
And was. I.
Suppose to be impressed?
That you
*flicked
my tea cup out of my hand.
you whispered goodbye.
While he sits in a throne.
Licking the salt of my lips.
I told him
I was worth having
Because he could never have me.
It's a flower haze
That brings me back to autumn
and you're just a phantom
a ghost.
That's about to miss everything.
if I were still sleeping,
I would pop open a new ice bulb.
I just know you would have done the same.
I see the gallows instead of a cross on the mantle.
As if, suddenly, I am transported to the hum of a string.
I have always wondered, my entire life.
How has she refrained?
Dressed up to the dense pearls round that long neck.
I have always considered, as far as I could remember.
How did she stop herself?
I have always been curious, to this very day.
How has she kept still?
I don't understand!
How did she not eat a bullet at the end of each and every day?
Did she not think of hollow tips shredding every cell and membrane?
After she was done tending to their pancakes, didn't she visit those opulent ties?
Or did she close her eyes?
Quenchi
Are you there, silly goose?
And I dig into the ropes that lay in a forgotten gloom.
Are you there, silly goose?
See, I can tie you up with my mind.
But I can also undress you with my hands.
Lay a kiss on our starry, little hearts.
Yet, I still ponder.
Are you there, silly goose?
Because I wrote before and I wrote again.
Letter after letter. Stamp after stamp.
Leaving quaint lacerations on my tongue.
I still feel that last hug—
I kinda liked the way it burned my skin.
The way my blood was steaming.
Clogging, dripping, seeping. For you.
All for me?
All for you.
I remember coming home that night, too.
The way I gave death a
I wish I could stay and watch you vomit up your old self in a last-ditch effort to please me.
Nights like these...
I'd rather burn incense compulsively.
Precariously lighting up my feelings.
Almost as frequently as you lying.
It's falling off like peeling skin.
Look at that, the stars tonight.
This heightened, sophomoric déjà vu has weakened my head into another tizzy.
I hope dragon's blood smoke can bring you down to earth again and one day you can rest in the ashes of a prior amity.
His betrayal was like ink in her bloodstream.
I saw her across our white picket fence, as it always was.
A warning, almost.
She was friendly, but trespassers were never allowed.
She let his voice subdue her mind and he ran over that white picket fence.
I saw it happen.
You know what he did?
He couldn't have any witnesses.
I ran for the door, to confront the miserable son of a bitch, that he couldn't get away with this.
It wasn't until a smirk of reprisal formed on his lips.
Then I knew.
And he yelled,
"I just did!"
That's when I glanced over.
And I, too, saw my trampled fence.
Forget it.
I'm not really here.
I'm just a figment of your imagination.
Where Love exists in two different ways.
I'm not really here.
We're living in two completely different worlds.
Where Love exists in two different ways.
We're not meant for each other.
We're living in two completely different worlds.
I'm just a figment of your imagination.
We're not meant for each other.
Forget it.
15 Different Types of Lip Piercings by WickedBodyJewelz, journal
15 Different Types of Lip Piercings
Lip Piercings
Different types of lip piercings
When the idea of a lip piercing comes to mind many might think of a simple labret or hoop piercing. The most popular lip piercing of all time would have to be the Marilyn Monroe inspired offset labret piercing.
Enjoy this visual diagram of all the different types of lip piercings that we put together for you our loyal wicked fans and customers.
There are many different types of lip piercings all with different names. Some piercings are directly on the lips, some are pierced on the surrounding area of the lips. Allow us to provide you with examples of several different types of lip piercings.
A child sits numbly at a table
the chairs across from him are empty.
Children race about around him
and he watches as their attention dashes through him.
He wears a heart necklace the red of a summer sunrise
and plays with it idly between his fingers. It can be split in two but it stays as one.
Someday, I'll find someone to wear this with me
He whispers, almost as if to console himself.
A teenager sits meekly at a table
the chairs across from him are empty.
Other teens text and chat with their friends
and he watches as one girl smiles at him with honey eyes.
He wears a heart necklace the red of his blushing face
and he plays with i
An Apple for the Teacher by Erlebnisse, literature
Literature
An Apple for the Teacher
Her name was Miss Mills. She was twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, and my son was a student in her first ever kindergarten class. He fell in love with her on the first day of school. He never told me this, of course, but a mother always knows. He came home that first day and he sparkled as he told me everything that had happened, how Miss Mills had read them a story from a brightly colored picture book and how he had hung on her every word.
"And I want to get her an apple," he announced.
"An apple?" I asked. I was peeling grapes for his lunch the next day.
"Yes," he said, "it was in the book we read today. The kids, they
Are you there, silly goose?
And I dig into the ropes that lay in a forgotten gloom.
Are you there, silly goose?
See, I can tie you up with my mind.
But I can also undress you with my hands.
Lay a kiss on our starry, little hearts.
Yet, I still ponder.
Are you there, silly goose?
Because I wrote before and I wrote again.
Letter after letter. Stamp after stamp.
Leaving quaint lacerations on my tongue.
I still feel that last hug—
I kinda liked the way it burned my skin.
The way my blood was steaming.
Clogging, dripping, seeping. For you.
All for me?
All for you.
I remember coming home that night, too.
The way I gave death a
I need writing in my life more than i have ever needed anything and finally i believe that i'm good at it. Or at least for now I do. My self confidence is shaking even writing this right now. Will I ever be good enough? Are they just saying those things so they don't want to see me cry? And I hate going all dark side, wondering if I'm making too many mistakes. My anxiety has reached an all time high and I'm afraid its going to take me down and the best thing I can do now a days is just ignore it. But tell me, how can I ignore something that stabbing you in the stomach. Sometimes when these moments get so very bad that I consider taking my lif
It's rich that you preach about mannerism and common decency when you have none of your own. I'm not surprised. You're so insensitive and I hope you die. What else is knew? Hm...
And it's been about year. Yeah, a year since I got off that wretched bus and gave one more one more chance. And I should've turned my back like a stiff leg. And I didn't. Should I be ashamed? Nah. Because I would've never been were I was right now. You have no idea what it was like, to not see past a month from a month. Because you didn't even plan on being alive. But I am and it's fucking September. I look behind me and I swear it's still March. And I guess that's just how the cookie crumbles. But it's September. That's when shit went down. And nothing's going down. Maybe I can *rest* my head forever.
...or at least until someone wants to k
That was very lovely. Truly. I hope you continue to sing because I will definitely support you! Sorry for the late reply as well, I've been sort of busy~~~