UntitledBig Sky Country, swallow me whole.
Newest
UntitledThe memories seem like a dream That long ago was dreamt The kisses in the summer breezeUntitled
Were never ours to have
But somehow I am brought to cry Over a hollow heart within For these memories, although skeleton trees, Have roots firm with mine
I remember well the hours spent The days, the weeks, the months The shriveling love of the one above That lead my sheep astray
The time allowed to fall it out And the time allowed to write/right These memories, so distant they seem That I fear I am doing wrong
To overbear, to over-c
by ~RJeanneB
The CureTwelve Hundred and Twenty Five Miles (or so we thought)The Cure
Noah shouldn't make so much sense this late at night. Swallowed whole by a whale of a heart, I ache.
I feel three infinite days of pent up emotion daring to burst forth into the deep blue.
Claddagh, you make the other girls green with envy. Wrapped up for a queen, Mary me not. Found within a wooden box, a finger grown weary. Aine ought to be the wearer, best-hearted, best suited.
My mind is reeling, this video is in overdrive. I am wide awakened and exhausted.
I needed my space. Need space. Need space. &n
by ~RJeanneB
GardenGarden The white gate washes innocence over me when I flick the latch and step into a garden long ago left untamed, unburdened, and underappreciated. I want to reach down to the grass, the roots, and the soil and feel no difference between earth and man. Have I let myself wander too far from my beginnings, from man’s beginnings?Garden
The safety these sun-stained walls grant my soul immediately causes deep, hidden thoughts to surrender themselves. I am four years old, following the steady footsteps of a man aged by a world war, smoking, alcohol, and the sun. My tiny feet fall into his shadow as he passes from tomato to pea t
by ~RJeanneB
Favourites
The Last 37 Hours or SoThe letter I wrote needs another draft For all the words that have since passed.The Last 37 Hours or So
When I woke up I'd forgotten our conversation Until I smell the perfume and drool on my pillow And ask: What is it, that is actually the case?
Dear, --Gemma, Gwenhyfar, Earth, Mother
(A name is not its reference. A word is not its definition.)
Last night I stood in the aisle of a sex store. I wondered what you would look like in an outfit, and I in a mask. More or less like we are? Or how we should be?
For it could be said:
I do not fall in love easily
because I fall in lov
by ~Oukan-chan
Watchers
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Dolores's Frontal Lobe
- Interests: Writting (better)
- Favourite band or musician: The Ting Tings
- Favourite genre of music: Indie
- Favourite artist: Kate Bush
- Favourite poet or writer: Edger Allen Poe
- Favourite photographer: Unknown
- Favourite style of art: Surreal
- Shell of choice: Rain
- Wallpaper of choice: None
- Skin of choice: Black
- Favourite game: Emotional
- Tools of the Trade: Neurons
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