i write my poetry
on apple rolling paper
and smoke it away
like a cheap luxury
it smells like the incense
of our by-gone days
sickly sweet
yet bitter
hope flys
with that sweet green smell
you know
it will always linger
high class cigarettes
white rose hazy days
incense galore
in a blue glass vase
smoke curls
bloody snow berber
forget ashes.
remember
those sweet incense ways
Like every boyfriend in the world he's different and I don't know why; or maybe I do and I'm just lying to myself.
I've never had the urge to lie to him or even told him one, but that now is fictitious. A small thing that doesn't matter or does it? Do my hobbies and looks and fault and qualities matter to him? Do I really care about these things in him?
I get nervous and act stupid around him because maybe I feel him looking through me like a glass doll. His own glass doll that he's afraid of. But I'm a doll that welcomes play and love. I'm a doll that feels the touches and caresses and kisses; I listen to rambling and though
The body of a century
Perverted but nautral
The ways you cannot tell
Or understand
Holes that explain
Inks that scream
Metal that rips
A hole in society
That few can understand
The void they cannot pass through
For their minds are confused
With what is right
There is no right or wrong
They are illusions
Spawned from
The bodies of many centuries
Lazy
Golden
Loves the way
You do what you do
Black
Defense
Loves the way
You go through like you do
Fifteen
Reasons
Why you're still
In eigth grade
One month
Thursday
Without touching me
Is why I love you
I had gone to get a some cigs at the local cornor shop. I had tried to stop my annoying habit along time ago but the nicotene was in to deep to let go. Sorta like a parasite to deep in your skin to be pulled out. What was bad was I nutured this parasite; drink more fluids create more blood; run let it pump faster so it can get more in every beat of your heart. The day was one of those lazy, hot ones when little old black men sit outside on barrels playing chess and the dogs are lounging around. The glass of the store was covered in the dust of the red clay road only a few feet away making it look like amber. I bought two packs cigarettes nurt
I had gone to get a some cigs at the local cornor shop. I had tried to stop my annoying habit along time ago but the nicotene was in to deep to let go. Sorta like a parasite to deep in your skin to be pulled out. What was bad was I nutured this parasite; drink more fluids create more blood; run let it pump faster so it can get more in every beat of your heart. The day was one of those lazy, hot ones when little old black men sit outside on barrels playing chess and the dogs are lounging around. The glass of the store was covered in the dust of the red clay road only a few feet away making it look like amber. I bought two packs cigarettes nurt
Lazy
Golden
Loves the way
You do what you do
Black
Defense
Loves the way
You go through like you do
Fifteen
Reasons
Why you're still
In eigth grade
One month
Thursday
Without touching me
Is why I love you
The body of a century
Perverted but nautral
The ways you cannot tell
Or understand
Holes that explain
Inks that scream
Metal that rips
A hole in society
That few can understand
The void they cannot pass through
For their minds are confused
With what is right
There is no right or wrong
They are illusions
Spawned from
The bodies of many centuries
Like every boyfriend in the world he's different and I don't know why; or maybe I do and I'm just lying to myself.
I've never had the urge to lie to him or even told him one, but that now is fictitious. A small thing that doesn't matter or does it? Do my hobbies and looks and fault and qualities matter to him? Do I really care about these things in him?
I get nervous and act stupid around him because maybe I feel him looking through me like a glass doll. His own glass doll that he's afraid of. But I'm a doll that welcomes play and love. I'm a doll that feels the touches and caresses and kisses; I listen to rambling and though
high class cigarettes
white rose hazy days
incense galore
in a blue glass vase
smoke curls
bloody snow berber
forget ashes.
remember
those sweet incense ways
i write my poetry
on apple rolling paper
and smoke it away
like a cheap luxury
it smells like the incense
of our by-gone days
sickly sweet
yet bitter
hope flys
with that sweet green smell
you know
it will always linger
Current Residence: Middle of Nowhere Favourite genre of music: Most genres Operating System: Windows 7 MP3 player of choice: iPod Touch 16g Wallpaper of choice: What I like Favourite cartoon character: Gir Personal Quote: "Who gives a fuck about swallows? It's funny though."
https://brihana25.deviantart.com/journal/6117944/
I :heart: jark (https://www.deviantart.com/jark) !
If he makes another site I'll leave as soon as it opens.
It's June 28th which means it's that time of the year again and your special day is here! We hope you have an awesome day with lots of birthday fun, gifts, happiness and most definitely, lots of cake! Here's to another year!
Many well wishes and love from your friendly birthdays team
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