Maybe if you were here by peacefrogo0o0o, literature
Literature
Maybe if you were here
I had a miserable time. Beneath my brain's foamy beer-stained chaos, I managed to tell myself over and over again, "this may suck, but at least you look damn good." (I'd broken out the little black cocktail dress.)
A man with a goofy smile and glassy eyes wrapped an arm around me, rooting me to the place I stood. He asked me how I was doing--if I was enjoying myself--and I managed a fuzzy, "yeah this is ok I guess i'm not sure if i'll stay for much longer though it's getting kind of crowded and all i really want to do is dance and the music kinda sucks..."
"OHMYGOD I LOVE THAT BAND TOO" he yelled into my ear as he spil
my teeth have bitten nails;
i've painted some deep red--
others i've left naked.
i'll peel off my paint for you--
a naked girl left on your bed.
but only if you promise to paint me back red.
oh god you're a fucking joke just shut up and let me tug on your hair big boy
she says when she's lonely and he tries to find something more
in her eyes than the color brown.
she's messy and she likes it-- feeling disheveled and unleveled and off kilter
trying to hold on to flat walls walking through grungy rooms
searching for the toilet.
the music is oppressive and stretches, warping through closed doors
while she finds fleeting peace in sitting on cold dirty porcelain
then falling on the floor.
what the hell am i doing here what the hell am i doing here she chants
wanting to get out of her own stupid head
because alcohol has tra
i am not impressed.
you're life has become hectic
drunk
unkempt
your hair is a mess.
stop pretending that everything is ok.
i can hear fools swarm outside your door at night
and there alone on your bed i lay.
what has happened to your face?
that smile you used to give to me so freely
has been sourly replaced.
i do not understand.
take some responsibility
grow up
god dammit
be a fucking man.
my hands can't hold yours anymore.
don't come around here tomorrow or the day after or the day after
i'll just show you the door.
i cannot believe you.
everything
all the words you spoke to me
all the kisses you promised me
were un
My skin glistened in the sun and I felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of my face. I twisted my body to comfortably lie in the hammock, its gracefully swung arms contouring perfectly to the notches of my spine. Beneath my shades I read Nabokovs Lolita, but my eyes were strained and my head woozy from the brightness of the sun, so I set his book down on the grass and watched little gnats drift through the summer day surrounding me.
I shifted my shoulders over one side of the hammock, swung my legs over the other and saw the world upside down. The trees green leaves above were still
Dylan's 'Moonshiner' by peacefrogo0o0o, literature
Literature
Dylan's 'Moonshiner'
Ive been a moonshiner for seventeen long years I spent all my money on whiskey and beer he sang. I watched him in the dim light of his dorm room. Books were strewn across the floor beside dried brown leaves that had found their ways in, each carefully hitching rides on his brown leather shoes.
God bless them pretty women, I wish they was mine he sang, and all I could think about was how sad I felt. A few months ago he'd explained to
yes yes yes yes yes
undress
i'm a mess
yes yes
i like that
if you stop i'll be devastated
tonight
your eyes promised me something
sweet
yes yes yes
a treat
the way our fingertips meet
like the tips of our tongues
yes
that's what i like
forgive me while i close my eyes
forgive me for my naked thighs
forgive me for my airy sighs
yes
i'm asking for you tonight
yes yes
i need to touch that cheek
feel your hands run down my arms
yes yes yes
lips to skin
yes yes yes
it's ok to look at me
if you smile i'll smile too
i cannot help but smile
at you
opps i made that wet
but wait i'm not done yet
yes yes
i can feel you
it's the music grabbing your heels and pulling--
making you slip around, dance-crazy-dance
the beat is no longer on the outside but exists within you
under your hunched shoulders and dizzy fingertips
slithering circles round your calves and thighs
jumping between your excited legs
it swings your hair while your hips twirl
unable to let go of the floating feeling
you're high up there
can hear the faint muffled voice of a bluesy friend
tricking you into dancing more
keep moving because if you don't you'll never move again
keep drumming
keep that neck flexible
keep your arms up
slippery and agile you shift side to side
and wat
i grabbed on to him wholeheartedly,
digging my fingernails into his fleash like a tick;
i need his blood.
won't let go til i'm full and fat,
not til the little hairs on my body stand on end
and i inflate, completely round,
not til i can take everything i can from him.
i blend in with his dark course hair,
black growing out of his skin,
the skin i'm now in;
he cannot find me.
bury my face into his neck,
be the vampire i know i can be,
sucking streams of support,
stealing parts of his life
before he even realizes he's not whole anymore.
he'll start to scratch at where i am
but i'll be hidden,
tunneled just f
his anemic arms
smooth
bare
no hair
they reach across the table
slap slap slap
what an ignorant prick
because of his dick
no one to stick
with his angry selfish eyes
with his bony shoulders
and itchy feet
a starving dog
beneath the lonely moon tonight
he's given up the fight
besides he has no right
to yell
or raise his voice at
the balding trees
or me
wind blowing his body
back and forth
he barely has
anymore curls
to use against the cold
shouldn't have gone
against what he was told
broken by the tiny storms
of leaves flying by
staring up
at the clouds in the sky
and watching me
walk by
we didn't eve
i think it's funny
how i wake
and my eyes are already soaked
i can't escape this hurt i feel
though it's been months
without a single word passing from our lips.
busy, he said.
busy was a burden much too heavy
to carry with me weighing you down.
well i'm busy too...
busy crying over you.
i timed it perfectly.
-so when we spoke
on the phone
you'd hear our favorite song
in the background
and i'd pretend
it was just a coincidence.
i know you felt something too;
there's no way it was only me.
don't tell me you didn't feel sparks,
feel electric slip through your body.
don't tell me that.
please come back to me.
he must not remember by peacefrogo0o0o, literature
Literature
he must not remember
1. she smiles so much,
still laughs just as much as before.
new clothes,
new hair,
new face; she's started over.
she must not know my name anymore
because when i'm in the crowd
i get no "hello"
she must be over me,
completely unfazed.
she looks so happy.
2. he hasn't changed,
still laughs at everyone's jokes,
still smiles in his same dreamy way.
he still walks by me
and i get no "hello"
he must not remember.
he must not recognize
my new clothes,
new hair,
new face.
he's probably moved on;
ready for a new life.
he looks so happy.
'guys are very predictable... by peacefrogo0o0o, literature
Literature
'guys are very predictable...
...way too many tears have been shed over that boy,
and too many sad songs have been played.
i see him everywhere i go,
i can hear him laughing.
everything reminds me of us and what we had,
where we went,
what we did.
there are too many unsettling memories
that appear at the most random times;
they're so vivid, it's scary.
just when i think i'm ok,
when i feel a sliver of having moved on,
his smile appears in my head
and opens up every wound that ever did begin to heal,
everything i'd thought i'd forgotten.
how am i supposed to deal with that?
the cold, dark night blends together mostly.
there's that time when you really can't tell fiction from non-fiction, smoking from non-smoking. when you can't fucking tell when you're dying from when you're living. well that's how i felt that night; that's what every little emotion in my body screamed out to me when you ripped my heart in two.
i'd tried so hard. i honestly did, i tried to keep you with me. and i failed just like every other attemped love i'd ever had. what remains a mystery is that if you were truley perfect, which i'd believed you were, then you'd still be with me right now. still be kissing my forehead and whisper
i always say i'm fine by peacefrogo0o0o, literature
Literature
i always say i'm fine
listen to my eyes and not my lips
they only know how to lie now.
trained by you, it seems.
and even in those dark, sore nights
there's no escape
you haunt my dreams.
fragile kisses shatter like glass
unable to defend those awful
short-lived lives.
remember whispers crumpled there?
down by the quiet
river side.
bare and naked i stand before you
don't tell me that i'm beautiful.
i've felt this touch before.
are my features so beautiful now
that you can walk past
and ignore?
i'm in no condition to shelter your
misplaced love that's gone
astray.
i'm losing the hope that you'll come back
and guide my hands
fa
i will try to look strong;
seem rough around the edges.
don't criticize my way of recovery,
the mascara leaves long black smudges.
not enough's been said or done
and crying seems my only way.
i only hope that you won't forget,
like i don't, every day.
there's so much quiet when you're not here
and i've grown to hate the silence.
all i hear is my own heart's beating
and it's missing skips from your absence.
i expect i will get through this
and i'll find a love eventually.
but you, ____ ____, will never
find someone quite as good as me.
rejects of the hour
sit and stare at the ticking clock
that beats in rhythm,
in exact time,
with their lonely battered hearts.
escape from doubt and worry
as i sit upon my bed
watching stars go by,
wishing on a hope that's dead.
instantly the light appears:
the idea that it's not
my fault at all, but more or less,
yours in all it's art.
glittered eyes and made up whores
infront of you
to choose,
remember me as the girl you loved,
and psychologically abused.
the flowers you'd given me started to wilt
and your face didn
notes: my first lover by peacefrogo0o0o, literature
Literature
notes: my first lover
i'd discovered real organic pleasure
at a young age,
daring to pioneer places beneath my skirt's linen fabric and
feeling things i didn't know how to describe.
becoming an addict was not hard and
i quickly found that i could deliver to myself some of the most overpowering experiences
felt by
any woman.
my fingers know what i want and
my body tells me how to breathe and
my hair sprawled across my soft plush pillow
sweeps over my bliss and smile, telling me not to stop.
skin turns silk and pink,
drenched in aches and ecstasy.
there's a power in knowing that
i control myself,
knowing that i can make myself writh
rules.
1. post these rules.
2. each person tagged must post 8 random facts about themselves.
3. tags should write a journal/ blog of these facts.
4. at the end of the post 8 more persons are tagged and named.
5. go to their page and leave a comment telling them they're tagged.
so...i haven't been on deviantart very much lately...but i'm gonna post this journal anyway.
one. my father is chinese and my mother is malaysian.
two. i've already planned my children's names: Bailah, Simone, Everette, and Luca.
three. i cannot dive.
four. only a handful of people know my real middle name.
five. i very much like to do shrooms.
six. i
consciousness:
1. the state of being conscious; awareness of one's own existence, sensations, thoughts, surroundings, etc.
meditation:
2. continued or extended thought; reflection; contemplation.
So I was reading comments left on my page from a really frickin long time ago...try last may...and you said you wanted to draw me? We should get together and create something artistic when I come home this weekend. K.