i think that i have a weakness for soft spoken girls that say my name too often. |
buttercup, sugarspice.
Newest
ecstasyecstasy
'i miss you.' is just enough to
mash me into melted butter. he can spread me easily- enter me smoothly, deftly. leave me just as painlessly.
but i stick to his skin. and he will not wash me off. with water, soap, liquor, leprosy- he will not wash me off.
this is fuckin' ecstasy
by ~khaosxcaos
autumn journals 06.autumn journals 06.
his father says he can remember a time when people were still afraid of things like god, sewing machines, and honeybees.
.
he is not a religious man (like his father), but he calls himself a spiritual one- godless, sharp, with hands that are cracked and honest.
his tongue cuts like crayola and draws water out of steam. i have seen a higher power in the gumdrop sweat on his pelvic bones, his breath over the telephone, a man collecting cans on abbot road, a smiling mother with blood dripping from her nose. i told him this and he says he sees god too- especially in the way my spine ripples when i mov
by ~khaosxcaos
frozen firecracker waltzfrozen firecracker waltz
he told me that 'life is tetris when the pieces fit, because all the other shit disappears. when they don't, all your issues just pile on top of each other until the screen fills up and GAME FUCKING OVER.' i told him that at least tetris had a restart button.
sometimes he talked in his sleep and he would say things like 'i know that the cherry trees love me' or 'i'm breaking into marrow-thin strips' or 'she's a maverick and i fucked her like i meant it'. i would write these things down and show them to him and the crinkle of his eyebrows meant that they troubled him, but he said they were pretty.
somewhere i
by ~khaosxcaos
spin me around again,spin me around again,
i woke up to a pack of stale cigarettes on the pillow next to me. tobacco flakes on the bed, thoughtless kiss burning my forehead.
i know that i am miss red-lipstick-bed-head-quick-fix and when i smile at you, you smile back at me and i run over seven specific moments in my head that always scrape my throat dry like whiskey.
7.
Your cheeks are on fire with wet redwood, newport 100's, and rug burn from falling asleep on the floor. You ask me for a light and cup your hands around mine while I press and it clicks and there's nothing and I say sorry, just be patient. Your fingertips are callused and
by ~khaosxcaos
Favourites
can you run out of blood?i think you are the electrical arcs swarming like bees to honey,can you run out of blood?
the matchstick paradigms not amounting to much but the rain will holds its breath until you can smile again
where is the moon, i am dissolving like newspapers beneath your fingers twigs falling to birth a second ground and i hope you can
sleep tonight, i hope you can remember me but never ask me how
i would trade all of the
worn wings like windows from the empire state building but new york city only makes me cry- does that
by *ohsostarryeyed
deviantID
hi i'm Hannah- because i don't know who or how or what else to be. |
i want to see you.Devious Info
- Interests: People.
- Favourite movie: Star Wars Episode V
- Favourite band or musician: After The Sirens
- Favourite poet or writer: Anne Sexton
- Website: http://failurebyfascism.xanga.com/
- MSN: hannahbanana674@hotmail.com
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