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melissa-bee
melissa-bee
✎Writer ☯ Nonconformist ✍Painter / ♡ Movies, Cats, Music, Nature, Friends / ❣ "If you work doing what you love, you will never have to work a day in your life." / / ☓☓☓IG: Asteriart / ☓☓FB: Melissa Eleanore
As candy thaws neath my tongue My eyes take dilation. I fall into an inception as I walk into a place where my tender age went... Then, I saw sevenths of an illusion Acidic iridescence Suffused in a type of dimension I was present. Bound to life's existence... Each and every Earth-bound object was formed by masked bodies that cradled each other. Lifelessly connected to one another. Expressing the same dainty love we are mad for... Jade orbs were absorbed by a topiary lord. Beating. Circulating. Captivating. Caught me devoted in all sorts of emotions. Repetition. Repetition. Sight distortion. Colors stacked on colors. I saw modulations. But they spoke to me in motions. I felt as if I was breathing this all before. And that I was anticipating on something that I could not get myself to ignore. Some moral. That I've been awakened for...     I was reverted back into a timeless age, where matters were forgave and where passions were seemliness. and because of awareness you become unable to love like a child when you abandon your innocence. So here's the message. "Seven is perfection." The eye to see life. Making a connection. Breathing Earth's affection.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Eye Candy
I'm a representation of existence My bona fide valiant side; is only just a corporeality... I am an entity. Something that survives on all mat-er-ial-istic problems. Trying to break the hives. I have many needs things I'm trying to conceive. incarnated, in this ****** display. Hoping that specter comes out of the dark and plays. I am connected. To specter's company. Because we possess the same energy.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Entity
The door throbs with sweat In the morning-tide "Whom can come at this time?" A friend, I bet. I stalk the sound until I reach the **** I open it to see the face of a cop. Some questions spewed out of the mans mouth, about if I have seen this other man printed on some page. Then showed me of this woman, which coincidentally is the one I've been raised. They stepped in with no approbation Suddenly, the atmosphere grew with scads of tension. They access themselves into my home. And snooped about the room, with noses to the ceiling. I got this panicky feeling. Again with the interrogation. The only thing that fled through my mind was irritation. Words came at me and caused an explosion. Never have I felt more broken... I constructed this stockade to stable myself from memory lane. And to have it easily be destroyed, made me realize of all that I've been trying to avoid. The men left, leaving me with bricks to recollect. It was not a friend, that I have bet...
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
No longer in the "Guardhouse"
The sweet taste we locked between our lips...has faded... That does not mean our time was purely wasted. Not one ounce of our time spent. I promised you forever. That promise will be kept. The memoirs will always be treasured in the depths of my pulsating heart. For love is not always a forever thing but forever it will be circulating. It is an energy that will live to sustain life amongst us all. Each time we taste again, a part of us will always carry the same lore of love, throughout our ephemeral orbit until the end. When you learn to see the light, after these lonely wounding nights.   Just know mi amour... there was never anything to fight.
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Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
Mi amour...
Posing as a eager swine does not prove his masculinity. Therefore I should not be afraid to walk the streets featuring my butterfly physique. Boy I will bet you, he can sprint without a top and the pretty little ladies turn scarlet. But when a gal will trot we are seen as a harlot. We are not that different, you and I. Our ******* are the same. But I apologize, if mine are in the way. I presume you forgot; we fed from the same thing. But from the lack of your decency, we become an object of insecurity then we appear to seem weak.   I apologize, if my body may be sonsie Does not mean you can be queer towards me. We do not holler, or humor you as if you were nothing more than a ***** Or think that the piece between your limbs, is only for my bliss. It is not just the glares, the blares, and the curiosities. The young men of my generation are clueless as to how to fascinate the ladies. Hardly any words slip through my lips When they try to shoot for the first kiss and gab a hold at my hips, I resist. It is no longer love at first sight, but many valentines. One-night-stands... And lonely Sams... Everything for fun... Everything for lust... Until they grow up. Realizing the importance of  a woman's streak of luck. Now imagine a woman when she has given up finding the man of her dreams when every single boy makes her deceived Not knowing when it's the real thing Making life really confusing. Imagine a woman that has been through many heartbreaks. Boy, by the end of the day she will make your head ache. So don't complain. Men are the reasons for her many mistakes. because he persuades. And before she can run away it is too late... The sole purpose of "making love" is to do it in privacy.   Therefore he is a thief for only seeking to steal her virginity.
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Dog Rose
Posing as a eager swine does not prove his masculinity. Therefore I should not be afraid to walk the streets featuring my butterfly physique. Boy I will bet you, he can sprint without a top and the pretty little ladies turn scarlet. But when a gal will trot we are seen as a harlot. We are not that different, you and I. Our ******* are the same. But I apologize, if mine are in the way. I presume you forgot; we fed from the same thing. But from the lack of your decency, we become an object of insecurity then we appear to seem weak.   I apologize, if my body may be sonsie Does not mean you can be queer towards me. We do not holler, or humor you as if you were nothing more than a ***** Or think that the piece between your limbs, is only for my bliss. It is not just the glares, the blares, and the curiosities. The young men of my generation are clueless as to how to fascinate the ladies. Hardly any words slip through my lips When they try to shoot for the first kiss and gab a hold at my hips, I resist. It is no longer love at first sight, but many valentines. One-night-stands... And lonely Sams... Everything for fun... Everything for lust... Until they grow up. Realizing the importance of  a woman's streak of luck. Now imagine a woman when she has given up finding the man of her dreams when every single boy makes her deceived Not knowing when it's the real thing Making life really confusing. Imagine a woman that has been through many heartbreaks. Boy, by the end of the day she will make your head ache. So don't complain. Men are the reasons for her many mistakes. because he persuades. And before she can run away it is too late... The sole purpose of "making love" is to do it in privacy.   Therefore he is a thief for only seeking to steal her virginity.
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55
Riding in a hardtop with a few friends. Heads get groggy as grass burns between the lips With every pull of the roach, it repossess the swelling at the tip. My cranium fills with this potion sensation hip rotation. The air becomes dense then everything makes sense;   I have a roof over my head, but I hardly stand under it. No wage No claim that I am legal until the come of age. Society reeks of imperfection. Because society learns from received education Rather than stepping into the natural world. Where we stumble on honest situations, like meeting new friends. I walk upon the concrete streets, freely. The only routes I know are my true friends’ homes. But my superego tells me that I am alone. In this world I walk solo. And my only soul purpose is to free my spirit. Be free of mind while taking a hit.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
Ne'er-do-well
He loses grip of reality. Loses morality. Gets bitter taste of insanity. No ability to bring himself back together, in time. In his head, he hears beautiful chimes. The clock inside his chest ticks on every step that he takes. Right foot in front of the left... dragging himself slowly back home. Pondering  and viciously swears at the wind. Making up excuses for the things that he did. Deep down beneath the skin, he is dying from within. Stupefied from all the grievance and regrets. Suddenly,his eyes go backward from shock and distress His feet begin to soften. Legs begin shaking. No stableness.   Crisped nails and pruned at the fingertips. . His hair converts to grey. I called out for him stay. But it was too late The man is turning liquescent before my eyes. He no longer can hear my cries. Hardly recognizable by the disfigurement of his face. I am amazed. He gets down on both knees. Dissolving in earth’s soil. His heart then recoils… I woke up and I screamed. It was not just a dream. Daddy has left me. Cold heartedly.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
The Melting Man