RobotsWhat is thought? What lies behind those glittering eyes?Where is alive? Who can say what for life vies?Steaming pistons drive it on,Seeking purpose, here and gone:The single lonely, Automaton.
Min-YoungWhat a face to show them all-How refined, how graceful,But what is there inside her?What thoughts and feelings hidden stir?
Eye See You. . .Well... Well... Well...'Eye' see you...You can't hide...From my eyes...
The Middle ChildBack to the corner,I wrap my hands around my knees.Alone, away, far away,Another hurt, another blame,Another day of hurting,Like some sad and twisted game.It's not my fault,They did it first,Why am I caught,When they did worse.Why am I the middle child?
A LivingO, my lord, the horoscopes,On which idiots pin their hopes.Aquarious, huh? Well, you've got it bad,Taurus, Pisces, I hate this fad.I'll write your fortune, ya nuts,Just long enough to bank the bucks.
The DiceOh, Lady Luck, please bless my dice,They roll, roll, roll, YES!Let me rake in those winnings, nice!Again they roll, roll, no!I watch the winnings melt away,Oh, god, what is this?I lay a single nickel down,And take the dice again.Watch the dice go, roll roll roll-YES!Dash, look at that roll!Take it all, or double down. . .There it goes, there it goes, there it goes- YES!
Now, But ThenWhat a pretty girl, come get me a drink!What a pretty girl, sit and play with me!What a pretty girl, it's not what you think.What a pretty girl. . .But-I don't-I never-Nothing naughty,Nothing to be mean,I like a clever plan,But never for more than jest,I could never be disloyal,Never, as long as I remember you.
If Only. . .If only...Staring,I follow you, but only with my eyes.If only...Wanting,To be with you, if only for a time.If only...Alone,You held me close, and kissed me lovingly.If only...Married,We stood up there, the ring had been for me.
Odds and EndsA cup is just a cupuntil it's the last cup that she touched,and a caris just a way from a to buntil it's the way that she arrivedat z.A picture in a frameis lovely to see, even if only ever viewedin the background, passively,but when the imagelocks in placethe last smile on her facethen your grief turns to regretfor the memorytrapped beneath the glass.An old pair of slippers,tucked neatly beside the door,stepping overevery time you cross the threshold,until the daywhen you have to toss those old things awayand they are as heavy as anchorsand more treasuredthan diamond.A scent that fills your head,the comfort of a familiar figure anda warm embrace,but when you can no longer detect it's fragrance,it becomes a mysteryimpossible to solve,a memory lost to timelike the ghost of a kisslost somewhere among the rest.A name is just a nameuntil it's torn from the tongue and carvedinto the stone,and a dreamis a just a thing between the nigh
TrueI'm a liar telling the truth
Vapid.I alwaysthought ita sortof injusticethat alla kiss requiresis two pairsof lipsand a willingnessto drownfor the dreamof a raftyou might find nestledbetween the hundredthpair you try;tobecomeeven more brokenin the pursuitof a love thatcould finallyfix you.
firebirdAutumn has gone up in flames,winter brings ashen remainsFragile bird skeletons withwhite blazing feathers theybreak easily in thisbrittle-bone weather I'minhaling cold ashes thatrattle my lungs//my ribs//my heartand this phoenix is fallinga p a r tbut sometimes that's necessary.
vasha ptichkai want you to read me stories,the very same onesas i wrap you into,catch you in their bindingsand smell you,clean and summer,inside the pages.standing in your shower,i wear the bodywashthat is a signature of yours,foreign on my skin.sometimes you are there with me,and we are children againas we splash wateron one another's naked bodies.i am turning you intoa bigger reader,a braver hero,a stronger soul;you tell me thatyou put your phone downand buckle your seatbeltwhen you get behind the wheelbecause you imagine my faceif you told me you didn't.i want to be something new for you.a better lover,a happier smile,the warmest arms you could ever need.i never want to wavereven as tides crash my knees,and i want you to always hear it,close to your ear or across the state,when i tell youyou mean the world to me.
too (iso)late(d)touch-starved waistlinesrecollect memories in old text messagesand incomplete composition notebooksthey argue with themselvesabout self-preservation in a predatorywilderness: the privacy of homesand thick bedroom wallswith birds calling them from hiding spotsamongst the fear and hopeunfounded and unfound& steady hands let go of their centersto grip reluctance in pensrecording the songs of bluebirdsoutside, outside, outsideas growth sets in with resignation smiles
2P Romano Hetaloid x Reader (Part 2)“talking”, ‘thinking’Despite you pleads Flavio kept undressing you, leaving you only in your (color) frilly undergarments. “Frills definitely suit you my bella ragazza but I wouldn’t mind taking those off for you too~” “NO!” You quickly avoided his hands as he was reaching for the clip of you bra, and since beggar can’t be choosers you picked up the first piece of clothing you got your hands on. “Aaww~ Alright mio amore you can still wear it but only if you put on that dress you got” “Fine, I’ll be back” You went into your room and locked the door to change only to realize what dress you have picked out. It was a short (color) maid dress that you bought yesterday just thinking you could wear it for fun while cleaning the house.‘Dear God why!? …Maybe I can escape through my window and-’ “(f/n)~! You done? Don’t make me go in there~” “Fuck my life”
Nude Pictures of French GirlsWhispers lingered, premature like an Indian summer;heavy on the leaves and heavier on the lungs.Until even the wall flowers began to wither and die.The wind brought with it dust and unkempt secrets.Reversed burials where words tasted endlessly like bones.We stared down at ourselves, drowning in rivers of drought.And as our tongues carried us to the headwaters of thismechanized plague, we at last saw the architect of betrayal;A mirror, higher than the mountains, with two unhappy statuesstanding far behind it.
on certain occassions fallacies exist for a reason[innocent is a synonym for boringinnocence is a symptom of ennui]i'm not in the not in the not in themoodto be the knot in the noose: looseunhinged. disjointed. you know:you know the drill & you knowthe drill in my head is alwaysimpaling my skull & you knowthere is no difference betweenthis psychosis & you. no. i amat best your greatest parachute(if you fall into the abyss of mymind, you shall float, as gentlyas a feather in the wind) i am azephyr at worst: a tornado sansentropy. i am the #1 cause of abroken heart & most dangerouscatalyst since 1991. more fuel?fuel, for what? fuelfor an aching heart(ima hack ima hackima hack my wristswhich is what hacksdo) all of them do itexcept meaccept me(i am a hack, hack, a hackhacking up my irony lungs)blacking up my exxon & imean blacking out my eyereally mean i don't mean athing i say & i say nothing,nothing but when, but i'mnot in the not in the moodinnocent is a synonym for
BOUNTY HUNTER an Ancient Beast PoemDraw a deep breath, look down the barrel,At someone with whom you've no quarrel.Stay alone, solo, keep your space clear,Fight for gold, a killer without peer.