genuine"he died... what was it... fifteen years ago and... it'll fifteen years and seven months soon..."
"why is it like this? ... why do i still feel him come into bed everynight?"
Newest
fissureThe best part about that night was probably the luminous white of the painted parking space lines reflected on his face. Eyes locked steadfast on the oncoming traffic, he stepped into the bright lights and introduced his skin to the harshness of imperfection. Impact, and then nothing.fissure
- “What do you think heaven is Jesse?” “I don't know. I don't like talking about it.”
“I think it's a huge land full of smiles and toys and Grandmas.” Marla told him, hugging her knees tight to her body. “Can we just stop?” he asked, his voice steadily becoming
by ~secretadmission
crayola and cadet blue and youdo you remember when we were six and you took my very favorite crayon and broke into two pieces? you said “i'll eat the big half because i'm a boy but you have to eat this one- okay? okay?” and i said yes and i ate the smaller half of my favorite cadet blue crayon. you said that this meant we were in love because thats what eating crayons meant and i believed you. do you remember how the teacher ran over to us after we'd just eaten my crayon and she yelled? she asked me “now why would you eat that crayon?” and i told her that you told me to, and you got in trouble. she wiped the blue off of your mouth but there was a littlcrayola and cadet blue and you
by ~secretadmission
pining: pelagicLike digital kisses blown for pockets and rainy days, You're the blue haze of water and computer screen, You're big-toothed and big-hearted and eleven times the human being that I am. Even in the cacophonous static between state lines, You're the few seconds of clear and perfect dialogue, You're deep-voiced and deep-thinking and about six times more mature than I am. Somewhere between bad decisions and good ones, You're much too big of a risk not to take, You're clear-headed and clear-blue-eyed and five times as beautiful as you think I am. You're eleven inches taller than me and have knowpining: pelagic
by ~secretadmission
Favourites
Your Hair.Your hair is a mess. It is a flock of birds caught in a net. It is mixed fruit & dirt & strawberry patches. It is yesterday, and it is the way you wake up in the morning perfectly, in a huge mess on the floor.Your Hair.
Your hair is a nest for me, with all the tornadoes I could ever need.
It is bilingual and it masquerades as something that knows nothing
at parties. It is delirious and smells like mold in the morning. Sometimes it looks like spiderwebs after a storm, but it is its own storm.
by ~Self-Intoxication
NeverlandI future “we will create a new world” you said, and I laughed. green grass, a white house a studio and sammiches and a thousand more years slipping between our fingers like sand in an abandoned beach.Neverland
II present we are amateur architects with sketched blueprints drawn in band-aids on our hearts. so far we know absolutely nothing; your guitarface will be the sweetest smile and my bleeding pens will be tangible thought and I will carefully record the history of every note you coax from the planet, but ho
by ~shebledgreenink
SympathydeviantID
| oh hey: [link] sometimes i take myself too seriously as a writer, but most of the time i can't even write. my problem probably has to do with my boring life- in which i never experience anything new. what i do write about has already happened, or is my impression of something that could happen. i think mostly that i need to get out and experience more. i think it would help. i like winter and sewing pins, curse words and mixed cd's, the grey of the sky right after the sun goes down, pasta salad and boys, young people and old people, city grime, palm-reading, thrift stores, chewing gum and playing games, gardens and pretending to be shy. i'd be an enigma if you really knew me. |
Devious Info
- Interests: fruit. i am a voracious tooth brusher.
- Favourite game: love.
- Personal Quote: "this is what you shall do: love the earth and sun and the animals..." - waltwhit
- Tools of the Trade: CWIII
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i dont really do writing in general
i dont know what the hell im doing
--
" longtemps, je me suis couché de bonne heure. " - Marcel Proust, 1ère phrase de "A la recherche du temps perdu"
[link]
i havent written more than like a few lines at a time in a while.
but i like reading your stuff crazy alot. so dont stop.
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