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The SlideWally was walking right next to a beautiful blonde girl one who openly acknowledged she was his girlfriend. Which at his school was a big thing. As much as he acted like a cool ladies man he was really just a dorky science science geek. Anyways back to the point, this was their third date and they were waling in the park on a Saturday. They just finished eating a nice cafe.
“So, what do you want to do now?” he asked her. She looked at him her hands in her jacket pockets. It wasn't cold, she made that obvious by her short shorts, but he gave her that jacket so she wore it every where. She just shrugged her shoulders.
“Maybe we should...” she started looking around until her eyes landed on a little playground. It was the old one, it was a little run down, but it was okay still in working condition. However the parents wanted something bigger and newer so they made a shiny new playground on the otherside of the park. She turned to Wally and smiled big. “Let's
W.W and his Broad: 2
She had been forced to stay in his boring office for hours in silence. She would have rather had her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips on his their tongues battling to feel every bit of eachother's mouths. Finally her thoughts over took her and she elicited a whine from her mouth.
He looked up in surprise and so did she.
"Something troubling you?" He asked jokingly.
"No." She said quickly and he looked back at his work. She opened her mouth again. "Actually yes, can you take these handcuffs off already? I'm really bored. We could have some fun, you know." She said puffing her chest out to make her breasts look bigger. Wally's eyes eyes shot down to stare at them for a second before looking back into her vixenly glinting eyes.
"Fine I'll take off your handcuffs. No funny business got that missy?" He said getting up with the keys in his hand.
"Who said my business was funny?" She said feeling rather cocky.
"Me. Now be quiet or I won't take off those cuffs." He said and she humphe
Still Into You: Wally and ArtemisCan't count the years on one hand
That we've been together
I need the other one to hold you
Make you feel, make you feel better
I've been with Wally so long I can't remember how my life was before we were WE. And no matter where we are what's going on I just hold his hand and we both feel better.
It's not a walk in the park
To love each other
But when our fingers interlock,
Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it
'Cause after all this time I'm still into you
It's not like its all easy. Don't get me wrong Wally's great. But one thanksgiving day...
"Wally! There's alot of smoke coming from the kitchen!" I yelled.
"Oh crap!" He said super speeding past me. I followed him to see him on the ground with a completely burnt turkey at his feet.
"Wally! My mom's coming over tonight. This is what I get for letting you cook this year." I scolded him. But then I looked at him, his big green eyes looking at me and back
W.W. and His Broad
The hat was sitting there on his desk next to other papers listed CLASSIFIED. She was so tempted. She'd heard all the stories that only mobsters wore fedoras. Especially black ones those were the signature of W.W. Yet she found herself almost being pulled by a magnet towards the thing. Her hand made contact with the soft fabric and she stood in front of the mirror in the bookcase. She lifted the fedora to her head it sat neatly on top of her long straight blonde hair.
She liked it. She thought it looked nice and interesting. She imagined herself with a machine gun in hand and a sack full of money in the other. The notorious W.W. at her side. She imagined him tall and built with stark black hair and eyes so crystal blue they belonged in a museum.
"Artemis?!" A voice interrupted her fantasy.
"Uncle. I was just-"
"You were wearing the hat that belongs to a mobster." He said snatching the thing off her head. "This hat fell off of W.W. himself. You cannot wear it. People could get the wrong
Wally and Artemis: In love and other things 5Wally threw the disk and immediately Nelson got up and ran for the spinning disk. The dog caught it in midair and walked back to Wally with a spring in his step. Lian giggled at the dog's confident nature. Wally took the disk from the dog's mouth and threw it again. For about 15 minutes, Lian and Wally threw the disk for Nelson.
“Hey. Why don't you leave Nelson alone for awhile and come eat.” Artemis said, walking up to the pair.
Wally and Lian rushed by her and collapsed on the picnic basket, chowing down on the food. Artemis shook her head in exasperation and walked back. As she did, she snagged a sandwich for herself.
Lian finished first, and began to climb the tree once more.
“Not too high!” Artemis called, but it was to late, Lian had reached the top. There was a snap and then Lian was falling. She screamed and there was a rush of air, and before she knew it, she was in Wally's arms with Artemis running
StressPeople say stress is normal that things will fade, everything is better if you take a deep breath and step away for a little while. But when things get bad all I can do is want to die, no matter how many breaths I take, how long I step away, everything just seems to pile up to get worse and all I do is distract myself and when I distract myself I can't stop. When I don't stop nothing gets done. All I want is to die, to slit my throat or break my larynx, cut my wrists, or overdoes on pills. Just die. Everyone keeps telling me I can't die that I'm worth it, but I can see it in their eyes they don't mean it, they don't care no one does. I am used to be alone, used to no one wanting me, no one needing me. I don't really know if I can live in a world like that. I can't live in a world like that, I don't wan to live in a world like that. That is why I have tried to kill myself so many times, because I can't live, I can only hide.
A StoryThis story starts long ago, in a place called, well no one remembers it's name, so I guess we'll call it Somewhere. Well in Somewhere there lived a girl called, well actually no one remembers her name either, so we'll just call her Girl. And her best friend whose name is also not remembered so we'll just call him Boy. Well Boy and Girl grew up together and they played together every day they were happy and friends. Then one day Girl met someone else, we'll call him Guy, and they fell in love Girl and Guy, but Guy was a jerk. And he treated Girl like she meant nothing to him. And Boy who was nice and sweet got left behind, and Girl never knew that he'd been in love with her. But then Guy got tired of Girl and left her. Girl was devastated but Boy came to console her. He came to hold her and hand her tissues, tell her she wasn't worthless and that there was someone out there that loved her, that Guy was just a jerk. And then Girl realized there was someone who loved her, Boy. He had been
The Diversity of LoveTo me love has always been a strange word and sensation. How can you truly know what love is and if we see people who experience it how do we know they truly have love. I personally have seen many types of love, love of siblings, love of kids and parents, love of a spouse of the same or opposite gender, love between multiple spouses, and the love of friendship.
Honestly I believe they all can and do exist, however society seems to believe that some of these are wrong. I know I've never really KNOWN what love is or what the meaning of it is, but I do know that people believe in it.
Why people chose to deem some types of love as wrong or nonexistent. But the biggest thing I can't understand is those people tell us that I believe in love, but then deny that it exists when it doesn't fit in the perfect cookie-cutter world.
So honestly the meaning of love in my eyes is diversity. Love has never been prejudiced, it just decides that it will happen to whoever. It doesn't care about gender, ra
She SaidShe looked him in the eye
She saw him look at her and smile
She smiled back
Tell me you love my smile, she said
Tell me you love to hear me laugh
Tell me you love to wake up and see me
Tell me I'm more beautiful than ever
Tell me I make you laugh
Tell me you can't live without me
But most of all tell me you love me
He said, I love you
But she saw in his eyes that little piece left unsaid
DollBarbie’s thighs were not meant to touch;
her hair is devoid of split ends
and there's this deadness in her eyes,
impossible to mimic—a quiet crawlspace without light.
There's a pastel pale to her skin,
hairless and unblemished,
a blank un-crevice between her legs
and her rouge-stained lips are ever smiling.
She is nothing like you, child.
But do not forget
that she borrows your voice.
Liquor is one way out an'death's the other The art of growing up,
is to pour shots of whiskey
into your coffee in the morning
to make it through
when all you want to do
is lie in bed
but there’s nothing
The tragedy of the mook and how it died one dayThe fickle sky presses
Against the glass of the windows
And the dry strung up heat of the winter sun
Spilled over the anemic asphalt
Our shadows seared into the bottom of our sneakers
Moving with a sort of blithe nonchalance
Searching for the speckled grey of a familiar horizon
The apathetic footsteps and my clenched hands
Quiver beneath the setting sun’s bloody smear
Across the over populated sky
That was no longer clear
Rather it was the looking glass phenomena
Spread eagled across my retinas
And during those grief stricken days spent
Hanging off your rooftops and skylines
I've contemplated replacing
my heart with another
Liver so I can
Drink more and care less
And I can vow that sleeping is only
For the dead or at least
The heavily medicated and sadly
I can no longer tell the difference between
Jack FrostOh, how lovely it is,
To peer out a window from the cozy warmth of your home
And see the whole outdoors kissed in crystalline brilliance!
As snow and ice decorate the earth
It's still amazing to think that,
With a single giant and chilling breath,
Jack Frost turns an everyday world into a sparkling,
the King and his moon.i.
this is an ode
to the King. We
watched him blow
away like an ocean
of black feathers,
and our Father muttered
that he was
forgiven, always, truly
forgiven. But we
all know that
nothing gold can
stay-- he had to
go. It was written.
that was when the
Queen cut her hair. Again,
we watched it fall to
her chamber floor
in heaps of strung
gold. But we already
knew that it would have
to go. We already
knew that she
would go, for it
was written, and it
was already forgiven.
the Prince grew up
with the memory of
black shoes and hair
littering the halls of
an empty palace. The
Queen was busy, always
busy, and then she was sick--
and then the Prince put on
his black robes for her, even
though he always remembered
her in shaded of red.
on his father's throne,
the boy-king realized that
this was the place
that swallowed up his love,
and it gave way to war.
You know what they
say-- "A heartbrok
Winter's SnowThe snowfall brings joy, fun to children, and allure to the world
Although, many dislike it
It's too bitter, makes them ill,
Or is a bother before they go out and take leave their comfy warm abodes
But it's soft powdery white scenery brings out so much hope to others
The twinkle and sparkle within it
The happiness it will always have and will bring
Snowmen and snow angels everywhere,
Snowballs in the sky,
Icicles on the edges of roofs, wires, and tree branches,
Intricate and fern-like designs dancing upon window panes
People see it as a winter wonderland
Especially when it first falls
The world never knows though
That I bring them this kind blessing, this satisfaction, this wonder
Yeah me, Jack Frost
The one who people say I nip at the nose and toes
Well I'm very grateful for those who do believe in me
And I will keep coming once a year for a few months and grant your wishes.
spun out so far, i can't be true to you.he's still the way i watch the stars
and how i run like no one's watching
he's what i dream of when i'm awake
but maybe i'm done waiting
maybe it's you
maybe it's me this time
and maybe that's enough
he still races through my veins
and no, my heart is not steady when i see him
but i was never one for patience
a year is too long to hold on
and he is conservative
and button downs
he is beautiful
but i am wild
i am dirty feet
and summer evenings
i am mud-caked nails
and cider throats
i am sun soaked
laced with drunken poetry
i am watercolour
he is oil based
he is canvas in london galleries
i am doodles on napkins in mediterranean restuarants
you are cheekbones and dark eyes
coffee stained fingers
smirks and accidental brushes
i don't intend to know anything more
he is confidence
i am uncertainty
i live in the wind and the forests
we both spend too much time in front of mirrors
but whilst he kisses them
i crack them
and all the while he is leather
reality vs. pretendi.
a wooden sword
and an eye-patch
i was a girl who
knew deep inside
had developed feelings
and they were all
selfishly for me.
you tricked me,
you kidnapped me,
all to tell you stories
in which good triumphs
over evil, not really;
was to walk the plank
as you planned to kill
him and feed him to
the ticking crocodile.
happy thoughts and
faerie dust would
allow me to fly,
but i only had the
first and i was doomed;
your wooden sword poked
my back, waiting for me
to take the leap
down (the stairs),
hearing the ticking
(of the oven)
go off - just in time.
surly, mother called us
down for dinner
and at the end of the night,
it was all truly
bedtime stories will
serve as my peter pan,
as my escape from reality.
Not That DifferentA writer sat down beside an artist,
Notebook and pencil in his hands.
The artists’ curiosity lead him,
To stop his sketch and take a glance.
And so the young artist asked the writer,
“Is there any chance that I could look?
Because I need words to paint a picture,
Could I look inside your notebook?
The words you have written on the pages,
Are the inspiration I need.
My hands itch to draw the scenes your mind made,
A poem, or story I plead."
The writer only laughed at the artist,
And then he simply shook his head.
“An Artist was what I used as my muse,”
Was what the old writer then said.
"Today I’ve learned something I won’t forget
I need your work and you need mine.
The threads of our works, they are intertwined
What a pretty thought and clear sign."
They looked and smiled as they swapped their works,
Flipping through pages both called art.
The only difference that separates them,
Are titles that keep them apart.
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More