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BattleshipsI'm sailing on the sea of peace when I see you in sight
fear and sweat mixed together dripping down my fingertips
I always have to be set up in case you want to fight
and before I understand, we are playing battleships
on these tides that are known so well, again we start a war
although the end of this has already been decided
I hear the fire going off from very far afar
destroying my clear vision, ruining the perfect silence
I never get seasick, so this seems kind of ironic
the beauty of the sun and sea only makes me sicker
the echoes of receding birds make me want to vomit
the waves of this salty ocean make my vision flicker
like a fictional literature but without a real plot
just a simple entertainment to keep your blues at bay
shoot again, honey, I think you missed a spot
I have no chance, I play along, so please come what may
you lead the storm, you lead the wind, you seem to play so well
in my extreme naivety I believe your gammons
I scream and quake, I swear myself into the dept
where is your girl tonightShit TV-shows, forevision quite clear
and your name on the screen of my phone
You tell me you're bored and that you're near
accidentally you ask if I'm alone
You don't have to explain me why you are
calling me on a cold rainy Friday
I see you coming out of your car
I sigh and slowly clean out my ashtray
Why are you again knocking on my door
it's not the first time you're coming here
Take off my clothes, throw them on the floor
let's get done with it, fuck me right there
When you want to play, you won't play fair
The sound of you unzipping my zipper
The smell of dishonesty in the air
not quite sure which one makes me sicker
And how you look when you smoke in my bed
to how big your pupils have dilated
"You are good," was the only thing you said
you're wasted and sweaty and naked
The walls of this room, the broken ceilings
have seen things no-one in this world should know
So leave me bunch of unrequited feelings
when you leave, I can't tell you, I can't show
For days those words playing o
Jack..and I arrive - from my hometown to the city my heart belongs to. A little bit to the left, to the right.. I've been here thousand times before, I know this place very well.
My phone rings. It's Oliver.
"Hey babe, are you in town already?"
"Yes, I just arrived. Where are you?"
"At Victor's place. Can you come here?"
"Absolutely. I'll be there soon."
After 30 minutes I am standing behind Victor's door and waiting for Oliver to come down and open the door for me. I hear him coming.
"Girl, hey, here you are! I missed you so much!" he tells me and hugs me tightly with one arm, because he's holding a beer in another.
"Want some beer? How have you been? God, it's been such a long time since I last saw you!"
And we walk together up the stairs, talking about everything that's been going on in our lives recently. He tells me about his girlfriend and how good things are with her right now, about his past few weeks and I tell him about mine. He is such a good friend to me.
Apartment number 22, w
cheap thrills.you're in delirium and his tongue eclipses all the mistakes you've done and takes your breath away; you're gasping for air and willing to do anything for the boy who usually prefers
to cut the foreplay
you can almost feel his bone structure scratching off the scabs from unrecovered scars in while he's turning; you can't do anything but wait for the party to end and the night to cover up your sins
in direful yearning
in the beginning of a dawn, he slowly takes off his shirt and then switches off the light and shuts the door; you share a wonderful caricature of intimacy before he throws you down and fucks you
on the bathroom floor
you are underneath and the rhythm of that song sends vibes through your bare body
and it turns him on; those compliments told and promises made and ugly confessions spoken are just a set
of lies agreed upon
he tells you he's in serious pain and needs you to relieve it quickly just because you are the nearest one around; and like morphine you blow away his stres
the kind of feeling.the kind of feeling you get when you're lying awake to the sound of hurricane and realize that you're all on your own. you're holding yourself at night, but it doesn't make any difference, just makes things worse. you're listening to the thunderstorm behind your window and wishing you were somewhere else. somewhere else but alone in your bed, sharing your emotions with someone else but your pillow.
the kind of feeling people write novels about.
the kind of feeling you get when you're missing something.
your heart is trapped inside your body, so you can't rip it out.
but if you could, you would.
your lungs are broken because of the mess that's going on inside you, you're gasping, but the oxygen always fades away in the most inappropriate time. the mess is caused by the wild dragons flying in your stomach. they're jumping around and will laugh if you try to stop them.
you're stabbing your nails into your own skin just to make sure you're still alive and it's really happening.
bad drawer.I draw myself up, every day right from the start. I can be the explosion of the rainbow or just some thing that looks like a page from the notebook of a 5-years-old little boy. I can draw lines and watch them blend together. I can be the contrast between two opposite colours like red and green.
Or I can be just the great old combination of black and white.
Whatever I am, you never seem to notice the difference. It's hard to blame you, because I'm not a good drawer and even if I were, I still couldn't blame you
because it's art to see art in art.
My pencil slips from one side of my paper to another without doing anything understandable.
If I tried to imagine how would you look like if you were drawn on my paper, then it would be pretty impossible. You're too one of a kind and even the best art shops in the world wouldn't have the exactly right colours for you.
And no-one would realize who it is, because it'd look like the biggest mess what has been made in the entire history
Wrong side of the mirrorI can see a woman, watching me through the glass. She is young, in her early twenties, with a haunted look about her. There is nothing especially spectacular about her, but something something quietly remarkable draws you in; captures your attention; fixes you to the spot.
Her eyes are a slate grey, intense and piercing; a dark energy smouldering in their depths. You notice that they glow a deep blue, like the ocean, when caught by the morning light, sometimes even the shade of a pale winter sky. A subtle ring of gold accents the border between her pupils and irises, which hold a faint sparkle of mischief against their black voids.
A shock of tight, red curls, messy yet somehow precise, frames her face. The sides of her hairstyle are trimmed short, not quite a mohawk; showing her natural gold-tinted brown. You could almost imagine her as one of the blond, adorable, cherub children, if not for the shadows of experience marking her features.
Beautiful is not a word that suits her, and de
Ugly.As a young child, new to the world, pure of it's intoxicating fumes, I remember a tree.
Such an ugly tree I remembered it to be.
It stood tall, creeping a good ways above any of the others, but it was disfigured in many ways.
Its branches were thin and fragile, like the bones of a sickly human, they twisted in retched ways that anyone would think should snap them clean off.
It was pale and grey, standing out among its fellow familiars, never to show the beautiful colors that it must have held within.
Its bark was edgy and course, as if it had survived through one of to many harsh winters, never falling from its place.
And I remember, as the others land succumbed to failling, giving themselves up, withering away, that tree never did.
It continued to stand tall, proud and majestic as that ugly tree could possibly seem.
It fought its way through whatever was thrown its way, fought until it could no more, never failing whatever duty it believed it needed to fulfill.
Morbid FantasiesI played it out in my head, how it would all turn out, and what would happen depending on which method would be used. It's horrible when I run out of creepypasta narrations to listen to on youtube, because then I'm alone with my thoughts. I think about things that make me sad, angry, and hurt. However, this particular thought brought along not just pure hatred, but satisfaction, and admittedly, a dose of fear.
I was invited to join my "family" for thanksgiving by my grandmother. Nice gesture, but she should already know that my roommate has work, and we have a yearly tradition of our own. Besides, I honestly do not enjoy being in the company of my "family," since I never really considered them as such, save for my brother.
But I knew in my heart, that she'd be there. Because they trust her. They would "forget to mention it" to me of course, but I know she'd be there. And I've played the scenario over and over and over in my head.
I vowed to live long enough to watch her d
My HeartYou know you’re truly in love if hearing her name, even if it’s not being referred to her, fills you up with undefinable joy. You know you’re truly in love when you remember how your voice trembled when you called her and read her the letter, asking her to be your girlfriend. You know you’re truly in love if the pure thought of feeling her soft skin on yours makes you shudder with delight. You know you’re truly in love if, she’s not only the first and last thing on your mind every day, but also after every meal, every motion, every book, every song, every breath. You know you’re truly in love when 771 miles isn’t the distance you are away from each other, but rather the amount of roads, bridges, and rivers you’d cross to get to her. You know you’re truly in love if every song you hear you can connect to the overwhelming joy and the infinite sorrow she makes you feel. You know you’re truly in love when you write a story a
Since Facebook Isn't AppropriateSince Facebook Isn’t Appropriate
And ‘cause dA is better than Facebook. If we go to your wall, I’m wishing you a happy (Insert number here ‘cause I really can’t specify) day on planet Earth. Actually, give or take a couple of those days because someone thought it was a good idea to randomly add another day. (Or maybe it wasn’t so random, but whatever, humorous effect.) But in all seriousness, if I could, I’d let everyone know how lucky I am to have you in my life and how I only want to be with you. I know we have our ups and our downs, our stale and our spontaneous moments but they’re all moments I wouldn’t give up ‘cause I have probably learned more about myself during these last 262 days than I have during the 5,943 days (Give or take ‘cause again, leap years.) I existed before you.
I hate generic birthday messages ‘cause you’re not a generic lady and I don’t think we’re a g
When Home Becomes a Prison (Strength)When your pillow is no longer the fresh place to lay your emaciated spirit
But is now the chain on the ball that is your bed.
When a door is no longer the entrance to a retreat from the world
But a metaphorical lock keeping you ensconced, never stepping foot out into it.
When windows suddenly become looking glasses that never break,
Just heckle you with what you're missing in their transparent prisons.
A token of what you used to be in the faces of the people walking passed.
The people who pay no note to you;
Who have no inclination of what they are; the symbols of your long-ago life.
The sharp splinters of nostalgia that just glimpsing upon their face sends into your heart.
Every time they walk their dog,
You grimace because you cannot walk long enough to do the same for yours.
Constant reminders in everything everyone does in everywhere you go
of the things you are losing without control.
You clutch and grasp while slipping into sliding as you clasp onto what is left o
True Love: Part one
Finding true love yourself, it is quite rare these days. But once you’ve met your special one, once you’ve looked into their eyes, you will know that something big is about to happen, if you realise it or not .. it will.
You will know deep inside, when your heart starts to skip a beat, when you want to simply grab her and kiss her until you both run out of breath.
True love is not about what you have to offer, is about how much are you willing to give, to share and sacrifice for her. It is about trying to make her happy at any given point, out of nowhere, cause you wanted so. It is about sharing your thoughts with her, telling her that you’re scared of losing her someday .. she will simply kiss your nose and tell you “silly, you’re never going to lose me”.True love is beyond physical attraction, if two souls get united, the reaction will be so powerful that absolutely no one can separate you, ever.
SaturdaysBrought into this world on a rainy Saturday morning
No memories of the years that follow
Until the pain
Eyes of a beast
Tears of a child
Walls subconsciously building to keep the child safe
But are the walls for safety or containment
Blood and bone breaking
Screaming into the night
Regret and SorrowI'm sorry for being smart
I'm sorry for being nice
I'm sorry for being gullible
I'm sorry for being dense
I'm sorry for being stupid
I'm sorry for being the same
I'm sorry for being different
I'm sorry for my mistakes
I'm sorry for being lonely
I'm sorry for loving
I'm sorry for existing
I'm sorry for being scary
I'm sorry for being a coward
I'm sorry for my smile
I'm sorry for saying sorry
I'm sorry I stand out
I'm sorry I'm invisible
I'm sorry for being blind
I'm sorry for being deaf
I'm sorry for being mean
I'm sorry for being here
I'm sorry for these letters
I'm sorry for being human
I'm sorry for being here
I'm sorry for everything
I'm sorry for being me
my loverif you left
my friends would be gone
I could never visit your part of town again
my favourite songs would become heartbreakers
I'm still not sure what I would do with your gifts
I could never watch Harry Potter without thinking
about your voice asking questions about Snape's bad behaviour
I could never drink wine without candlelight
or make sandwiches and coffee for breakfast for someone else
Chinese food would have no taste and
I would lose interest in going out to dinner
pink lipsticks I've bought would end up in trash
and I could never wear my hair in ponytail again
sleepy Sunday morning sex would lose it's meaning
and I would lose the sense of time
because time wouldn't matter if there's nothing to wait for
So please stay even if it's too much
I will become less until I fit in you
you changed me into something I had always wanted to be
a reckless girl so terribly in love
Keep in Touch!
^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