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I NEVER POST ANYMORE. UGH. I SUCK. life why do you take so much of my timeeeeeeee.
BOO. -
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Fuck I wish I could just spend my life laying on wooden floors, drinking weak tea, reading scripts and paperbacks, writing reallyreally short stories and poetry on scrap bits of paper, listening to folk music and just living in the exact way that I wanted.
Auditioning for parts that yeah maybe I'll never get, but maybe today or tomorrow or the next ( Read more... ) -
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You smell like the oppressive heat sticking to my skin,
burning a vicious red,
leaving fingerprints on my arms.
--
You smell like the open ocean washing over my limbs,
reflecting the glittering sun,
careless caresses on my bruises.
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You smell like the quiet cold of a soaked forest,
droplets twisting down,
my echoes muffled by damped leaves.
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You smell ( Read more... ) -
Sometimes, ordinary days are extraordinary days: day 3
:: so i lied, i wasn't going to upload a story a day. cause I am a failure. In my defense, started a new college and its crazy. So I'll just end up writing something whenever I can. TA DARLINGS.
Sometimes, ordinary days are extraordinary days: Day 3
( (The growing divide between them, the expanding, breeding in-between...) ) -
Sometimes, ordinary days are extraordinary days: day 2
::it was my brother's 19th birthday today so everything was very full and very busy, thus I did not really get a lot of writing done. I definitely plan to go somewhere beautiful today to pick up some inspiration but in replace of that now I'll give you Olivia's fantasy world to think about.
Sometimes, ordinary days are extraordinary days: Day 2
( Olivia spends most of her time outside, languidly stretches out across the emerald grass... ) -
Sometimes, ordinary days are extraordinary days: day 1
:: I've been going through a extreme amount of writers block so i've decided to force myself. Everyday, for a month, so that is until September 28, I'll write a short story. Something between 500-1000 words, nothing spectacular or special, just whatever flits into my brain. As always, I'd love and appreciate any and all feedback ♥
Sometimes, ( Read more... ) -
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poetry is the water that wears through stone -- whoever wrote it on my english teacher's wall.
I. Forever
I am breathless,
full of your air-
handprints along my ribcage
pressing into my flesh.
your lips slipping and
sliding
along my skin.
Aching against me
like a stone pressed
into the
sand,
burning
under the sun,
too warm to touch.
You have ruined
Me.
II. ( Read more... )
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