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my body wears a pattern of scars as intricate as expensive lace. my body is branded by beautiful tattoos of none other than that of pain. my body refuses to be physically marked
When you're told the cock in your mouth makes youDirtyLewdDisgustingLike a serpent slithering into your bodyBurning your throatAnd your soul You would feel ashamed, right?
S*x is human nature Confiding in s*xWhether byP*rnO*rgiesOr just having it It's all human nature EveryoneExcept for a small but significant sumWants s*x
My home moved often, a trailer one day, the next a house and the last a home But I lived in my body A home that I hated and a home that I couldn't escape My ribs; a locked cage to prison a soul
I went on the Internet to find Tumblr, I swear I've heard of this from somewhere. I surfed through blogs 'n posts, nothing about Space Ghost. All I just found was:
Mom, I’m gay I’ll talk to you later. I’m sorry (but not really), I’m in love with a girl. She is stunning, My heart is full.
oh how i became a tumblr poet, by far those are the best. we stay online and yes we cry, but willingly love unrest. when you can't form words (or ones that sing), you search for one that can.
One day, I'll hold your skin in the palms of my hands and breathe in time with your heartbeat. One day, I can bask in the feeling of infinity in your arms and press promises against
A lot of people know me as @haleythebirdie singing "All That Jazz" Or lockedinabirdcage Analyzing why paper beats rock And for those followers, I am on stage on the web when I talk Or 15byerha
she was always afraid of falling in love
Cresting over bed sheets are eyes asBright as the morning sun, blinding with colors; promise,Hushing a giggle from my lips with his tender kiss,He is the dawning of darkness,Though sunlight drips from his kind smile,
Buried on a bed of roses,His eyes closed and aged,Wrinkled flesh and pale faced,Grandiose was his life,Elegantly treasured pieces,He was rich in his ability,He was famous for his cruelty,
Look a little farther,What do you see?A fog, the unknown, obscurity,A corner here,A corner there,A circle; you're going nowhere,Running in place to reach that turn,Ha! But don't you ever learn?
Passive, my eyes are closed and my hands are cold,A light is shining in the corner of the room,And shadows are dancing alone, but lively.Voices coming in and out, names to the anonymous,It's all a trick now.
My fingers still smell like ammonia,Trying to rid the feel of you on them.You made me feel so unclean,So now, I'm scrubbing away fallacy,Dusting away cobwebs and sweeping the dirt from the floor,
A morning sky has never been so steel grey,Electric blue peeking through at random,The sunlight barely streaks with day,Giving hope in false silver linings,The threat of rain fills the air with pompous smells,
Intoxication by substance,Abuse is a common word inA user's dictionary: vocabulary,Mundane feelings of pain,Take it all away.
Pressure is applied to a mental wound,Bleeding out imagination, determination,The memories are painting the floors in blood-Discrepancy of a tortured soul; spilled ink, spilled thoughts,
Inhale the light of a fading street lamp,Illumination creeping into black lungs,Cancerous to breathe in smoke, but exhale,The luminous factors are in virus containing cells,Streaming in the veins of a vile creature,
He couldn't put the bottle down,His sorrow was unrequited,His hands were unstable,And another shot soothed him,Comforted by the burn,A physical rather than mental hurt.
It's as if the illness of sanity was contagious,Spreading like wildfire through his body; catching fire on the fringes of his heart,Bright colors uttering his title: but the question arises, what is his name?
At the current stage of my life Full of teen angst and hormones I am tired already.
Tumblr asked me where my Eden is, Referring to Eden as a place or state of great happiness, And all my thoughts immediately went to you. You, with your perfect, almost nappy hair,
we never got any sleep when we were together but it wasnt until you walked away
I consume information copiously.
What is the idea that started this all? The one that broke the glass?
I don't get why you say you're not a poet I'm not sure if you know what real poets write about cause they write things awfully similar to you And if you say you're not a poet then what the hell are you doing
So I was browsing the Internet the other day. I discovered a site that will be the perfect outlet for my pent up teen angst. Welcome to Tumblr. Where everyone is so loving an accepting.
I’ve got so many pictures and so many thoughts. Oh I’m so blue, there’s just so much to do! I’m scrolling towards infinity. Should I reblog it, queue it, or like it? Should I post a picture, a video, or a blog?
When my mobile phone buzzes, I am wide-awake and in anticipation. I need to see what somebody did In relation to my life. Somebody has interacted With me. I matter. I have made an appearance