Savory SacrificeBrown feathers fall, whippingcracks escape surrounding treesas heavy pants free from aching lungs.Fear across face, blinding, dripping off beak.Destination freedom, so feetscuttle, scurrying from soundsof slow following footsteps.Closer, closer, never breaking pace.Frantic flapping falls short, wings laylifeless at sides. Feet no longer move,yet nearby creeping continues. Single steptaken before feathered body shocked still.He stares into the eyes of another,whose soulless slits clobbers heartagainst his tender chest. Wings raised highnearby sky close, containing endless blue,but hot stones shoot, paralyzingmuscles. Heart explodes, red poursand stains autumn scented leaves. The scurryingstops, heartbeat no more and rustling forest falls silent.
Miles BetweenSun rises again, miles between us remain unchangedlike rushing rivers and extended state lines, closer than hand.How many days must pass until I see his face again and graspno longer cold, empty from dangling fingers. Leftto clutch, nails boring deep into palms, aching to brushagainst his chest as a new sun rises, miles between us remaindistant as memories of smoldering eyes. A slicedand split photograph cannot compare so I will waitfor the day until I can see his face again and kissthose sweet parted lips, tempting, burning red.They danced against my tongue, leaving behind taste of sugarinto the morning and rising sun where miles have changedas our bodies curled underneath cotton sheets,twisted and turned, conforming to our tenderentwine. How many days must pass until I wake upto beaming bright lights through glass, sunwarming cheeks. Eyes flutter open, gazing at curledhair, angelic expression and misty eyes. Sun rose, milesbetween us faded, and the day I can his fac
Once MoreSoft satin caresses, sweet lips touch,sending heat down my spine. Fingersintertwine, brushing mouth, cheeks,hair, leaving nothing behind. Desirecontrols, your lust craving more,hiding the picture. Moving lipsshow mind’s hunger, representingwavering ways. Sick of twisted motives,such childish play, now say her nameonce more, rekindling blazing flames.Red drops of passion puddle upon floor,draining white fingertips damp, speakonce more. Deepen fresh woundswith twisted smiles. Say her nameonce more, I dare to hear such sounds.If not, hold your tongue, your eternalpeace, and never move those lips from mine.
Black VinesNear vibrant flowers, emerald vinescurl and crawl across covered meadows.They embrace, black vines dancingupon skin. Glorious body art.Dark ink curls, blossoming firstflowers, flourishing sweet summer.Yet tips bare brown fruit, witheredwrinkled skin as amber sheds life.Ink fades grey, dancing patterns ceaseas vines drop last fruit into fresh snow.
NightmaresI watch your blood sprayand twist with rolling wheelsas hell holds my dreams.
Resolutions"Camila, open your door, now."The pounding shook my door against its frame and knocked the pencil out of my hands. I tried to pick it up off my desk but moved too fast,knocking papers and pencils to the floor. I reached for my supplies when another shout hit my ears."Camila, I'm not going to repeat myself."I grumbled under my breath, saying words I knew I couldn't repeat in a few seconds. I rushed off my seat and over to my closed door. Thepounding never died, leaving my ears throbbing. I covered my ear with one hand and opened my bedroom door with the other to see my mom glowering.She stood over me, eyes boring into my own. Her lips mashed into a scowl. "You have been ignoring me for the last ten minutes. What are you doing here?"I swallowed a large lump down my throat. "I-I-I was just-"A gasp flew past her lips, interrupting me. She shoved past me and entered my room, eyes wide. I knew we were both staring at the samething: dozens of sticky notes against my walls.She
UmbrellaRain poured from the grey clouds, drenching the brown soil. I watched the weather from the inside of my apartment, watching every drop as it hit the ground.However, that wasn't the only thing that captured my eyes. Standing at the bus stop was a young man, looking in his twenties. He stood tall against the storm, holding a mere umbrella.How it help up for this long was beyond me. The wind blew it inside out, leaving the man soaked. He had no reason to hold onto it anymore, yet his fingers wouldn't let go of the handle. He stood as a statue, waiting for the bus.The rain kept falling.
OpenDark dingy dungeon, alivewith desire. Chains diginto wrists, seepingevery last drop.Eyes missing day light,longing warm love againsttender cheek.Key resting on wooden tabletop. Long ago did it call,now silence.
RebirthFlower withers, dies.Stem falls, soil swallows seed.Life begins again.
ImagineDaydreamsAre imagination that create their own storyCreativity at its bestNo stopping it, no rethinking itIt just playsLike a movie sceneHappens a lot during the dayWaiting to be known, waiting to be seenIt is a dreamWritten downOr DrawnIt comes out when something boring's going on
Doodle DabbleI like to scribbleScribbleScribbleUnreadableBunched upCrowdedScrunchesOf wordsAnd doodlesAt differentSlantsAnglesAnd sizesUpside down or upFrom left to rightOr right to leftIt just comes out.It makes no sense.But it does to me.
The Lord of CreativityAs I fell asleep last night,I awoke not quite myself.I glanced downFrom where I satAt the edge of the bed,And there my body layStill sound asleep!I got up,Glanced around.I wasn't sureWhat to think.Suddenly,A bright flashAppeared before my eyes.Then a few feet away,Stood a door.No wall held it in place,And it was not there before.I glance backAt my peacefully snoring self,And took a closer lookAt the entrance in front of me.Made of a reddish wood,And carved withAll sortsOf unimaginable things.The knob was plain,WornAnd round.Taking a peekTo make sureI was still asleep,I slowlyTurned the handle.As I walked throughI had to squint and blink.I was greeted byAn assortment of colorEverywhere.The sight took my breath away.So many thingsThat I had never seen.I couldn't possiblyDescribe;Even if I tried.Leading to the doorWas a short path,And at the endStood a house.Simple as any old cottage,But with a picturesque look.I wander on down.Looking b
Kleine meisjesKijk eens naar die kleine meisjesMet hun roze jasjesPaarse tasjesKijk eens naar die kleine meisjesMet hun blonde haartjesSimpele paardenstaartjes
skin of teeth leather pouch for musical fang blingspider has no earsbut is closer 2 the sound than u can imagine, so the spider is 2 at thatit's cuzun the sun crab's eye rods have turned blind cane whiteits a touching scene on the eye drumdeja ufo vu COMBO of flying bird cage of indoor birdsong....depressed eye of the galestorm blowinghgjkbmbbnnbnb6666668o876775645y
ValahogyValahogyTelnek az évek, múlandó a kor,Bár tudnám milyen voltam még akkor!Mikor hagytam el önmagam vajon?Mióta áll elmém ingovány talajon?Ordító mélység a végtelen csendje,De nem tud választ adni rá egy se…Sok volt az ösvény, még több az elágazás,Merre lehet már az a régi, gyermeki varázs?Bombáznak az érvek, rengeteg a kétely,Belülről emészt, mint egy átkozott métely!Hiába kérem, választ már nem kapok,Törődjünk csak bele, majd lesz valahogy…
God's VoiceThey tremble,at the sound of God's voice.Why, might you ask?Well, they have no choice.For his goodness is infinite,and his intentions are kind,all of the time.
Christmas!Dashing through the snow,Get the fuck out of my way.You're too fucking slow,And fat, what do you weigh?(Ha Ha Ha)You can't fucking sing,I'll start a fucking fight.Get out the way you fucking hoI'm driving here tonight!Jingle bells, go to hell,Get the fuck out of my way.Oh what fun it is to ride,Over bodies every day, hey!Jingle bells, go to hell,Bitch what did I say,Run that ass cuz you can't runFrom my motherfucking sleighHey!
the flying pig nestu dont hav to join the fire brigade 2 remind u not 2 eat the bacon flavored communityespeciallolly wiv these new meat flavored berries. available now. with a juice in em like a blud.there wasgreen insect laughter thru mouth fingers.there wasan agreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeable calm with pointed vim edges.there wasa scene where a poor hare lipped rose was refused entry 2 skits o freenic flower showshe sed i only eat things that have smiley thot casings or pig air pockets
Mr. PringlesMr. Pringles was a fish that lived in the seaOh happy was heFull of glee, in that seaHe swam and swamSo happy so free, drinking his teaOnly one could dream of the life that is heThat Mr. Pringles in the sea