Goodnight and Go.It's bad enough we get along so well.
Newest
Part1: Can you supersize that?I don’t like her. She’s high-pitched and giggly, no one’s that happy.Part1: Can you supersize that?
Shanesaidshesaid: So, uhm… Chris put you up to this? Peterpan818: Sort of. But I agreed. We don’t have to do anything we can just have coffee and see a flick. Shanesaidshesaid: Yeah. All right. See you there.
She just wants to watch a movie, it’s probably going to be some crappy-ass film about love and I’ll make myself sick from stuffing so much popcorn. Flick. Who the fuck says flick anymore?
--
The first time Shane met Sarah, it wasn’t anything out of stereotypical. Boy
by ~skintobloodcell
Please, make it work.They say your heart is the size of a closed fist. Which pounds harder? Seasons come and go but everything feels the same when fogged behind rose-colored glasses. Tint my world a darker shade of pink and maybe I’ll understand why the mockingbird sings in the rain. Why do you sing? Remember when mama used to kiss your knuckles and tell you it’d be okay? I haven’t seen dad in forever, tell him I made a better son than a daughter. I guess none of the boys wanted to play and all the girls were in when it rained. I promise, when you see me banging my closed fist against my chest like aPlease, make it work.
by ~skintobloodcell
I said I'd write you a song.I’m a couple days late with our one-way ticket out of here, But it doesn’t mean this is any less than what I envisioned out there. Remember the night you gave me some life with a pen and a picture? And all I could think was, “God damn, I’d kiss this girl.” Somewhere along the mirrors and skin,I said I'd write you a song.
I sort of forgot what it meant to mean in meaning, and what does this all seem like?
I wish I could write you a number-one hit single, and maybe we’d mingle for a while with the stars on Hollywood boulevard. I heard it’s real nice this time of year, but my voice is hoar
by ~skintobloodcell
Living For The City“You’ve got me singing to you, bringing to you anything you ask me to.”Living For The City
– In Chains, Depeche Mode
It’s sort of ironic that four? Maybe five years after they made their first global impression he’d end up right back at the beginning - right back at the start in that shitty-excuse of a smoothie hut store. The same obnoxious glossed table tops and worn-out tiles on the floor hadn’t changed since he last remembered. The same tiles countless kids have spat on, vomited on, and spilled drinks on. The same disgusting aftergl
by ~skintobloodcell
Favourites
The Stories They Tell"What do you see? What are you seeing right now?"The Stories They Tell
Such a simple question; such a simple answer should arise. Open my eyes and describe what I see. Close my eyes and describe what I see. But what about opening my ears and describing what I see?
"Answer the question."
I pull my knees to my chest, closing myself up, but not from the question, just from the person asking the question. She'll never understand. It's just a job to her. A job to understand. But to me, this is life, a purpose burried deep inside.
"What do I see?" she nods. "Right now I see bitterness. I see cold, bitter colors fallin
by ~undefinedromance89
SynesthesiaPeople and deeds aren't black or white- they have shades of grey. Middle areas- the unknown, she says.Synesthesia
That doesn't make sense to me. How could you confine an entire list of all human personalities to a mediocre range like greyscale?
Give me a brief moment to show you my view.
My English teacher is yellow, like the sunlight of her smile; Emily is a pale lavender and magenta. How could Hayley be anything but a transparent crimson? And Ellie, a cerulean blue of calm.
Grey? Them? Impossible. Laughable, in fact.
Nor can you
by ~celery-soda
SynesthesiaGod forbid they find out. I never understood how they couldn't hear them talking, their voices buzz like radios in my head, with static between outbursts.Synesthesia
Can't they, can't they?
Can't they hear Wednesday crying? How she aches with the weight of it all?
How Thursday laughs, callous, and Tuesday tries to sooth?
Tuesday's a sweet thing. Like boiled candy on my tongue.
Monday never listens and if he does it's only to lecture. He is black, unsweetened coffee in the sticky, early hours of the morning.
Sunday is so wrapped up in his own troubles to think about others.
by *artisjustfrozenmusic
Site Map
©2009 deviantART. All rights reserved
--
Doom!
Come see my gallery?: [link]
Merlin
--
"See the lightning in your eyes?"
You're Gonna Go Far, Kid, The Offspring
--
-=-=-=-=-
Rule #1: Your rights end where someone else's rights begin
Rule #2: Take no action unless you are willing to live with the consequences
I love you all: [link]
--
If I be broken- "shattered", you say,
surely your poetry's the mend of my ways
cement for the chasm I tend to display
heal me, you liar.
prove what you may
❧-E. Soileau ❧
hey,
thank you so very, very much for the
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
--
Live life so that you regret nothing!!!!
--
We are a whisper. We are the wind.
Previous Page12345...Next Page