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i've had enough of cowardsIf you want to talk dirty, i sure as hell can play rough.i've had enough of cowards
If you lick your lips, you know i'll bite my tongue.
When you say my name, i'll pretend i feel it
in hot breath on the nape of my neck.
And when you decide to run, i'll run the opposite direction.
by ~howaboutnot
yeah, you were right about mei've analyzed my composition experimented with ideals and tried to match them with a suitable counterpart. the results are as follows.yeah, you were right about me
inability. inadequacy.
liquor brings out liquid releases, not false but merely hidden in the courageous smiles
that decorate my trembling lips. for the same reasons you left me, i'll leave myself sobbing on the bathroom floor.
desperate attempts at reconciliation create my depiction as a worthless ruin. i now come with a warning label: "get out while you can."
when i laugh i scream, when i breathe i
by ~howaboutnot
play?[Door opening slowly. Conversation audible as door opens. ENTER Bobby, Kendra (tugging at Bobby’s arm), Vivian and Mark. The room is a classic motel; scratchy, oddly patterned bedspread on a single king size bed, small TV in the corner, disgustingly colored carpet.]play?
BOB: …long you here for, Viv? VIV: ‘Til Tuesday.
KEN: So what made you decide to come here? (sits in a chair in the corner) VIV(turning): Hmm? Oh, I just thought it’d be fun to see my good ole boys. And the drive here is beautiful. It’s nice to get away. BOB(survey
by ~howaboutnot
playgarism with alliterationI find myself faced with follies, placed betwixt playful banter and much admired morality.playgarism with alliteration
This strident situation sanctions my desire to create a covenant with God, explicitly expressing the exchange of our unmatched entitlements.
You, the boisterous boar in possession of the beloved, me, the mourning maid with the sorry strength of anger at her disposal, and such a shrew that my tart tongue taints everything it touches.
But look here, fasts (of flesh) advance facts
so it stands that my means aren't meager. And impish impostors impose their licentious lies on m
by ~howaboutnot
Random Favourites
at seashe calls me in the dead of night, her voice so frail trembling and lost. who else can tell that this child has died? that she's tucked somewhere now where no one could ever possibly venture to save her? she wants me to, you can hear her desperateness being thrown up with each gag and word that flows from her mouth.at sea
what is hope anyway?
through the brisk air we walk, faster than we can speak to one another. i can see that her smiles mean nothing anymore, to anyone or to herself. she's lost that touch, that sparkle, that us
by ~peacefrogo0o0o
Two Bohemians Forever Engagedon top of the world swinging from ropesTwo Bohemians Forever Engaged
that little hands, plush and uncalloused, reatreat to in the burning sunlight just to feel the breeze upon their cheeks.
the night contains her majesties
just long enough for the two birds
to gather sprung twigs
and broken leaves and bits of ribbon for decoration.
we weave dangerously along bare streets, unaware of the world around us. you're telling me that IT'S ONLY US! we are the children of Bohemia! we are the pair to break a chain, to rule an un
by ~peacefrogo0o0o
:)
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Fredericksburg
- Interests: writing, guitar, singing, dogs
- Favourite movie: Boondock Saints
- Favourite band or musician: Brand New/Lucero/Gaslight Anthem/Cory Branan
- Favourite genre of music: Anything really
- Website: http://www.myspace.com/followyourhead
- Email: alittlebitpoetic@yahoo.com
- AIM: livinlikeliv
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--
"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast"
--Lewis Carroll
"A little nonsense now and then, is cherished by the wisest men"
--Roald Dahl
"ur funny i can here ur fatness threw the computer"
~EdwardLovesJacob
--
"unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, i love you then!"
-Allen Ginsberg, "sunflower sutra"
--
Reality is an illusion cause by lack of alcohol.
yes.
--
"unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, i love you then!"
-Allen Ginsberg, "sunflower sutra"
--
the wrong people always look so right to me
--
Reality is an illusion cause by lack of alcohol.
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