Her words were reassuring and softly spoking. I love u said the moon but the sky is my heaven. Find me on one of the island of stars. In my loneiness, I will wait for you.

Goodbye

My hands are broken. And just my luck you become my center when i spin away. I cry as the pieces swirl. I am dizzy but still I cant stay. I wish this pain would become my butterfly so that saying goodbye it wont hurt as much, when I turn around to wave.

Kissing Sin

Her mouth tasted hollow from all the empty truths and half lies. Indulging me, only because she couldnt be alone, shouldnt be alone, wouldnt be along

Kissing stopped the asking. Why did you do it again?

You should have known her eyes said as sinned lips closed in on mine.

a picture thought moment

Nobody whispers her name better than sinned stained lips. But her secrets are only for night ears. She flees before morning with a fond smile. Remembering how lust was very pretty last night with lovely eyes, dark sense of humor, and soft laugh.

Mistress

Maîtresse, embrasse-moi, baise-moi, serre-moi,
Haleine contre haleine, échauffe-moi la vie,
Mille et mille baisers donne-moi je te prie,
Amour veut tout sans nombre, amour n'a point de loi.


Mistress, embrace me, kiss me, hold me tight,
breath against breath, breath me life,
thousand and thousand kisses give me I beg you,
Love wants everything without condition, love has no law

The Aneresick Pianoist

Such lovely piano hands. Smooth ridged bones key the soothing melody of my starving desire. Bathing me in pure thinspiration. I am your biggest fan, oh lovely piano hands.

Dont tap on the glass please and dont Cut my heart open

Her tongue was such a sharp knife. She loved running the dull side of the blade down her pane. All the while tapping the clit clack of her moans in sync to her pouring rain.

Razor blade shouldn't be played with, especially near such one with such an unknown glass. She may get the urge to draw heart on the skin with her warm breath. Though its starting to crack.

Grey tape can fix anything because she knew she will never learns to stop tapping on the past.

Time

She died last night. Or was it this morning? The headache knocking at her skull says it was yesterday evening. With an inhale and a swallow she knew she was dreaming.

Her head is in mourning because of it. Every second was ticking a minute faster than it should. She tried to hang on to the praying hands when they came together at midnight up high and six thirty below. By this time the slurring made it hard for her to be understood.

What was the point of waiting when all she had to do was blink. Patterns of the drifting leaves looked that same as they did last fall. Blink. The wind smell the same. Like dead grass.

Was she asleep?

Mudlove Glue

She was born from a union broken, drowned, and rushed. Pushed through a baby gap of a young mistake. What could have been in the future, a birth done on the white sheets of love, was soiled with the mud of too soon undeveloped feuding blood.

Her and She and He. The present is a gift and she just want to be. Remember her not as the freaky lesbian daughter. For the past is meant to be left behind her as she arches and marches forward searching for her mate, to master and to bait. In order for her to finally cum.

Her spirit is meant to be give to one and only one. But her body tends to get lost in the mix. Searching through many faces, fingers, pleasure and feelings. Her mud is the glue that connects their hearts to others when she is done breaking it.

Pain and Love

Letting her voice catch the wind to fly her love away. Will you let her voice reach your ears? Would you listen to it like it was a secret whispered between lovers laying under the sheets?

The moon falls as the sun rise, she is still awake. Too tired to sleep now a days. Scrambled voices float through her head pounding their opinions on the inside of her brain. She cries as her headache grows worst.

Sharpen notes pierce her skin like the pencil through her hands. Watching the blood seep into the carpet. Picking up the pain and folding it into a paper plane. Blow a little kiss and watch it fly, alongside her love.

Fake wings

Feeling the closest to being happy only comes when she is alone. Mixing her blood with poison makes loneliness easier to deal with if she is on her own.

There isnt enough hate left. All that remains are the memories that tug on her sleeves, wanting to be picked up and held tightly. But her arms were too heavy from a drug induce to take part. She is choking on her own words, scared of her own actions, her emotions at the very surface, dying to break through.

But she wont let them.

Stuck on the stairs to Heaven

Standing on the stairwell she realized that she’s lost again. Blank gazes from heaven freezes her to hell. Drilling eyes of disappointment screws deeper into her soles. Preventing her from moving forward and forces her to watch as everyone continues to climb.

If she stood here long enough will her hair become rotten, her skin turn to soft lovely moss as she becomes another past without a future? Another tear fallen with the rain, will she be forgotten?

She is unsure.
So she sits and waits.

Grey Skin

She was a statue carved in marble. A smooth mockery of perfection as her stone hand pressed and caressed the warm skin of yet another secret lover.

I am freezing. Or maybe it was my cracked heart.

Did the chill bother them? Would they leave like the rest? Be someone who couldn’t stand the cold? Her world was cracking and falling apart.

Sigh, Again.

And she fucking hated knowing it was always her fault.

Sinneslust

She wanted a new mask, one less translucent. Her friends started noticing the horns on her head, the little devil's tail swinging on her heels and the smell of repent. If the drugs didn't kill her the side effects will.

She needed the new sins scented all over her, needing to taste this beautiful tragedy. A deep inhale will make her fly. Having her wings ripped from the seam is much worst than dying.

Her allure is so contagious. With diseased eyes and a wicked tongue she watches as you fall and samples as you cum.

Taking you down where baptize drown the young. She is one of the fallen, and if she must go under she will take you with her in the long run.

Untitled

She wished to cut off her tongue. The weight of its swollen ignorance was too much to bear. Gagging and vomiting up boulder ton beliefs mixed with lack of forethought created green coloured stupidity. She discovered words sometimes weighed unevenly on different kinds of culture validity scales. As stone and air.

A cold war danced around inside her mouth. Enemy sentences lay under mounds waiting, dying, and burning. In the indecisive ash, she couldn’t hold the remains of remorse, the amusing disbelief and pride together. One must come out to play.

She wondered which of them will first occur. Maybe she will get lucky and none of them would be needed to be said.

But that is highly doubted.

Fading addictions

She allowed them to cut a hole in her chest and fucked her heart. It was abstract and it was consuming, and yet not quite. But she needed the pain to smoother the booming emotions she can never extract, assuming there isn't any alcoholic contact.

She had french inhaled the menthol and allowed it to sloshing around in her brain. It only granted minimal satisfaction.

Oh how she loved the irony.

What should an addict to physical pleasure do. When they reach the peak in a leisure life that lacks deeper meaning. What other satisfactions can she seek?

To be or not to be, and oh woe is she.

Daydream

Her body craved more. Released pressure seeped down her knotted back and constricting chest, through the womb and out her slick sex.

Trembling snaked around her calves and thighs. Her state of being relax and opened maybe a little bit too wide, with her brain ready to be pulled out. Separation of body, heart and mind helps with unavoidable doubts.

She licked her lips like a she-wolf near a flock. Quick fucks always left her whorishly wanting more as she was left daydreaming for feminize fingers imitating a cock.

Sapphic

The bedspread said obscenities as I watched it from across the room. Standing naked for my audience. Flirting with night. Many have seen the show before, so they all know what to assume.

This one was different. During our promiscuous nights she had bit a little too hard. Leaving on me pretty little slut marks.

Clothing tossed all around. I stared at impassively not moving to dress. Light snores of another lay in another world. I wanted to join her but I cant stand the smell and loved look at how beautiful her skin looked unmarred. So I watch and let her rest for a bit.

But making sure to split before the sun unfurled.

Promises

Her mouth is like a secret that promises to be unforgetable...

as are the thoughts of a short encounter. Dry in the winter and cracked from humor, her mouth tinged by the desire envelopee by the filter. As she takes a drag smoke seeps and pours through her lungs as the secret's hope of recognition pounds through her aching head.

...Whispering sweet nothings waiting to be said.

To you my little uncertainty.

Women of the Streets

The night burns her tongue making her gag but she force down its compliance. The poisen was strong but she wanted to feel the tingling sensation of cuming without a conscience.

Loneliness is one hell of a drug, says the lush to the lust in the mirror. She will never be able to see straight, ironically she thank fucking God for that. Her panties was wet from the first glance, watching tonights harlot cum nearer.

She need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside. Wanting herself die a little bit, she takes one more hit from her questionable cigarette. She strips out of her skin just for a while. Letting the chaser smooth the ride, to making the night less bumpy of a journey.