How I yearn to break you off like perms.
But you remain kinked, tangled between my fingers, your texture. Your memories. Embedded in my fingertips, I reek of you. I lick you. I kiss you. I have become accustomed to....you. Tart and tangy yet tantalizing, I suck the slope between thumb and forefinger. I bite lightly on my palms, I suck your scent out of my nails; I invite you to taste my tongue. I drown you between thighs and I smush you against tits and I rub you against my legs like lotion; melt into me, layer me in your protection and let's fuck make love, make lust, make fudge. Make me taste like you. Make me melt like you and smell like you and smile like you and style like you and stiff and stuff it like you make it ruff like you.I want to be the wrapper in which you are contained. Let me embrace your crevices, your curves, your nuts.Let me keep you safe from other yearning fingers, because baby mines are experienced. My fingers have strummed against the strings of an unwilling heart and made it sing. My fingers have explored cold terrains and found warm beds. Sugar darling sexy baby, I know what to do to make you sweat...
Let's Fuck.
Sweet humid passion.
Hickies on your neck as I bite down hard and swallow.
Piece by piece I own you, I break you and I mold you into something beautiful as you fill up my throat.
I please you and I love you because the more I want you the more you give; you never stop giving, you never stop loving, you never leave, because you need my warm breath, and my wet mouth. Cum for me....
Shit, I Came too=)
Cotton panties stained with your drip drops. Bra smeared in your happy thoughts. Thank you for a freaky funky, bitter chocolaty good time...
Succulent bitch
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
I'll Never Be Your Beautiful.
Purging never felt so drunk.
Slurred words and bird's eye wide, trembling over troubles and stumbling over situations. Nauseated with your presence but never vomiting. Heads jerked to opposite sides so our gazes would never meet. Scoffs and coughs and blank stares. Such a reflex to flick the fuck you finger while verbally giving its definition. So quick to judge as if I was the gavel and gave the ultimate decision of justice[karma?]. So impaired that even the firework's light didn't show me the right side of your neck.
911 What's your emergency? My heart was ripped right from my chest and is barely breathing on the sidewalk. Slumped. Bruised. Bloody. Dying. CPR please. I need CPR. I need the comfort of his arms and his passion and his.....Flatline.
I did not survive his vicious attack of Lies. Of deceit. Of manipulation. Of cunningness. Of immaturity and idocrisy. I failed myself. I failed to love without you. I died in the arms of my murderer. Unmasked. Unscathed. And not guilty by reason of self defense.
It was considered my fault. I abused you with kisses and wore you down with hugs. I rubbed the right spots, I pushed the right buttons. I was consistent. I was content. But I loved you, I loved you and it was such a terrible thing to do.
Can't say I'm more sorry for you than I am for myself.
I fell in like.lovelust. with a Fucker.
Slurred words and bird's eye wide, trembling over troubles and stumbling over situations. Nauseated with your presence but never vomiting. Heads jerked to opposite sides so our gazes would never meet. Scoffs and coughs and blank stares. Such a reflex to flick the fuck you finger while verbally giving its definition. So quick to judge as if I was the gavel and gave the ultimate decision of justice[karma?]. So impaired that even the firework's light didn't show me the right side of your neck.
911 What's your emergency? My heart was ripped right from my chest and is barely breathing on the sidewalk. Slumped. Bruised. Bloody. Dying. CPR please. I need CPR. I need the comfort of his arms and his passion and his.....Flatline.
I did not survive his vicious attack of Lies. Of deceit. Of manipulation. Of cunningness. Of immaturity and idocrisy. I failed myself. I failed to love without you. I died in the arms of my murderer. Unmasked. Unscathed. And not guilty by reason of self defense.
It was considered my fault. I abused you with kisses and wore you down with hugs. I rubbed the right spots, I pushed the right buttons. I was consistent. I was content. But I loved you, I loved you and it was such a terrible thing to do.
Can't say I'm more sorry for you than I am for myself.
I fell in like.lovelust. with a Fucker.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Random Emotions Evoked From Everytime by Britney Spears...
i never judged you or called you wrong. i called you living.
every breath was blown into a world that couldn't see you for who you really were.
only as an entity of something more important. but this "whole" of which you partly represented...that was never made clear.
you left her, and him, and them, and that, and it. you left me.
and i've felt shallow ever since.
it feels. unjust. a kiddie pool overrun with enough water to fill an olympic size pool.
yet i don't drown. but you don't dwell. so it's hard to determine who wins and who lost.
what is my prize for being so diligent, for memorizing your life and loving your life and being your life for so long?
am i allowed to find myself now? because i miss who i was. who i am. it feels. ugly.
can i have a kiss on my cheek?
i don't want to feel ugly. i want to feel. feelings. that actually make sense. but i don't know...maybe i'm supposed to be different.
Are you reincarnated in me? Am i You? I want me back.
Leave me be. Where I need to be. Where you should not trespass.
Leave me back in my arms.
I want safety of the unsafe.
every breath was blown into a world that couldn't see you for who you really were.
only as an entity of something more important. but this "whole" of which you partly represented...that was never made clear.
you left her, and him, and them, and that, and it. you left me.
and i've felt shallow ever since.
it feels. unjust. a kiddie pool overrun with enough water to fill an olympic size pool.
yet i don't drown. but you don't dwell. so it's hard to determine who wins and who lost.
what is my prize for being so diligent, for memorizing your life and loving your life and being your life for so long?
am i allowed to find myself now? because i miss who i was. who i am. it feels. ugly.
can i have a kiss on my cheek?
i don't want to feel ugly. i want to feel. feelings. that actually make sense. but i don't know...maybe i'm supposed to be different.
Are you reincarnated in me? Am i You? I want me back.
Leave me be. Where I need to be. Where you should not trespass.
Leave me back in my arms.
I want safety of the unsafe.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Grr.
It's something about me that I just can't put my finger on, which is crazy: I should be able to put my finger all around me and know how it feels. But I never put my fingers to my lips...yet no words escape through....
I like a boy, you guys.
And it has completely thrown me off my happy trail....We spoke ONCE. I smiled, and said thank you for holding the door. See you tomorrow.
And since that day. If we never had that one minute conversation. I would be peachy.
But now I feel it in my gut. In my gut's gut. I NEED TO TELL HIM.
I've told three people already, I told them not to tell like we're in kinnygarten....Cuz I wanna tell him. The old outgoing me would have told him. The somewhat.....__?_____?__ refuses to say a word. I don't know if this is a maturity thing, the yearn for chilvaric actions, or just me being antisocial. I always was a firm believer in dominance, that is who I have been and who I might be for a very. Very. Long time. But where is it? Where are my balls? Did they shrivel? I cannot even remember the last time I spoke my mind. It only takes three words to change eveything. I like you. Then I'd either feel stupid cuz I gotta see him for the rest of my summer or I'd feel awesome because he would say the same. But that's fairytale. And my life has so far been a joke, so why stop the hilarities now? I refuse to saw a word :(
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Peach Blush Gives You That Sun Kissed Glow...When Blended Properly
...........
How could you be so audacious?
Bolder than cleavage, you must be.
This is outrageous!
It took more than willpower to deal with your shit, it took heart, dedication, and ballet shoes to make it all look so graceful!
How I managed to suck those tears right back in my sockets I'll ever know.
Whenever that invisible ghost of courage possessed me, I haven't the slightest idea.
But I stood above you and I lifted you into the heaven as easily as a bodybuilder would his weights.
And I tossed you frisbee far, hoping that you'd fall into the arms of another who would never want to return the pass.
I knew it wasn't going to last.
The arguments were once words and soon became puzzles and my brain was not equipped to solve them.
Your sweet kisses soon burned like bullets and I had no gun to revolve them...back into your pores
Mines were broad and wide, open sores that could no longer differentiate the difference between love and hate because it all made my skin crawl.
And bleed, and peel, and chafe all over the bathroom floor.
Sometimes I wish I had the balls to blade my blood all over the walls, but I could never get the razor steady to make a sharp cut...you see I was a perfectonist and the scar couldn't be jagged
But I guess since my heart can't be seen from the outside I didn't worry much about its weary shape
Decaying like the food in Buster Baxter's locker. Bunny ears filled with wax mouth full of plaque and clothes full of static cling.
You were nothing but a magic trick performed wrong. Your face and dick was there but I removed the center box and your heart was gone.
And I wasn't the one who stole it because I had an alibi: I was watching Trapped in the Closet.
I wasn't enjoying it because you had a complexion just like R.'s and I kept checking my room to make sure you weren't hiding with a cigar. Singing stories about hicks and dicks and midgets trapped in closets...
But you weren't there.
Damn I was paranoid.
But maybe sometimes I wish instead of just breaking up you succumbed to an early death.
So I could have a grave to visit and lay down roses and kick the ants off your tombstone. Sit by your birthdate in sunny dresses and masturbate to the sound of the crickets in the late night because I knew you would love the spontaneity.
But God wouldn't have liked that.
So I guess that wouldn't have occurred.
But since you were dead you would have read my thoughts and would have smiled at my idea without me physically carrying out.
That's why I like the dead.
They can read your mind.
So die.
So you can read mines.
And realize I had not one intention of hurting you purposely.
And I wish I could still call you on the latenight after a bad dream and you'd soothe me to sleep.
And I really do miss you. And that ounce of love I put in your heart's account is still in the safebox.
Take if out and lube yourself up with me and feel me sting your skin (to let you know it's working)....
But since my calls have been ignored and my messages have gone unanswered...
Just die already.
How could you be so audacious?
Bolder than cleavage, you must be.
This is outrageous!
It took more than willpower to deal with your shit, it took heart, dedication, and ballet shoes to make it all look so graceful!
How I managed to suck those tears right back in my sockets I'll ever know.
Whenever that invisible ghost of courage possessed me, I haven't the slightest idea.
But I stood above you and I lifted you into the heaven as easily as a bodybuilder would his weights.
And I tossed you frisbee far, hoping that you'd fall into the arms of another who would never want to return the pass.
I knew it wasn't going to last.
The arguments were once words and soon became puzzles and my brain was not equipped to solve them.
Your sweet kisses soon burned like bullets and I had no gun to revolve them...back into your pores
Mines were broad and wide, open sores that could no longer differentiate the difference between love and hate because it all made my skin crawl.
And bleed, and peel, and chafe all over the bathroom floor.
Sometimes I wish I had the balls to blade my blood all over the walls, but I could never get the razor steady to make a sharp cut...you see I was a perfectonist and the scar couldn't be jagged
But I guess since my heart can't be seen from the outside I didn't worry much about its weary shape
Decaying like the food in Buster Baxter's locker. Bunny ears filled with wax mouth full of plaque and clothes full of static cling.
You were nothing but a magic trick performed wrong. Your face and dick was there but I removed the center box and your heart was gone.
And I wasn't the one who stole it because I had an alibi: I was watching Trapped in the Closet.
I wasn't enjoying it because you had a complexion just like R.'s and I kept checking my room to make sure you weren't hiding with a cigar. Singing stories about hicks and dicks and midgets trapped in closets...
But you weren't there.
Damn I was paranoid.
But maybe sometimes I wish instead of just breaking up you succumbed to an early death.
So I could have a grave to visit and lay down roses and kick the ants off your tombstone. Sit by your birthdate in sunny dresses and masturbate to the sound of the crickets in the late night because I knew you would love the spontaneity.
But God wouldn't have liked that.
So I guess that wouldn't have occurred.
But since you were dead you would have read my thoughts and would have smiled at my idea without me physically carrying out.
That's why I like the dead.
They can read your mind.
So die.
So you can read mines.
And realize I had not one intention of hurting you purposely.
And I wish I could still call you on the latenight after a bad dream and you'd soothe me to sleep.
And I really do miss you. And that ounce of love I put in your heart's account is still in the safebox.
Take if out and lube yourself up with me and feel me sting your skin (to let you know it's working)....
But since my calls have been ignored and my messages have gone unanswered...
Just die already.
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