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Sep 2015 · 2.0k
Mistress of Moulin Rouge
nikolas Sep 2015
Paris, France
October 12, 1889

It's been nearly a week now since the Le Premier Palais des Femmes has opened. I gander about, and see all the free faces. Misters in their best outfits slobbed themselves over the glories of an actual woman that was not their wife. They saw beauty and an opportunity for a feeling of strength and masculine power. Different attire worn by the women reveled much skin. The men gathered two or three mistresses and a bucket of *** and went off to their homes. I was disgusted and delighted to be here. I recently resigned the Misses just to do this tonight. It's 21:47. I look around for faces that I would be delighted in claiming my own for a night and two. Nothing caught my eye. I started to gather my stuff and leave, but suddenly a face I hadn't seen appeared in front of me. Her breath smelt of mint leaves and joy. She spoke to me and asked me for the night. Asked me! Such a remark from a woman of that low should earn a punishment, but she seemed like she was innocent. As rude as it was, I took her offer since I had no other plans for that night. She took me back to her home where she had set up a fire and food. It was as if she had planned it for me. It was so beautifully laid out. I looked around her home, it was astonishing. She then leaded me to her bedroom, where she left rose pedals on the floor and one candle lit. She grabbed me. That's when I met my Mistress from the Moulin Rouge.
Sep 2015 · 1.0k
Roaches
nikolas Sep 2015
I dislike writing about happy things. I also dislike sad things. I like writing me things. I dislike cliche poems and stories. Hello, I'm me. Unknown. Unheard of. I tell tales. Just some ******* tales. The brain is the scariest part of me. Well it scares all of us, doesn't it? I'm horrifically depressed. I'll say it now. I guess you could say I am cliche.  My life consists of many people being ups and many friends being downs. I quit drugs. I quit ***. I quit cigarettes too.

It makes me want a cigarette.
I want to write a book. A book of me, but not totally me. Just random stuff I feel should be said.
nikolas Sep 2015
As i look down the sky is still forming. Whipped cream topping blue leather as i drift slowly across the jet stream. I am sitting where the angels sit in a small childs dream. A coat of feathers dawns upon me as the destination draws nearer. The beauty of Saint Pepsi drowns my ears. I feel as i will touch space and beyond, but the dark mountain above my head prevents me from doing so. My eyes are blocked by the coats of feathers. I see nothing but white suade and the left wing that sits upon my back. As if the sky is mocking me and distorting the beauty in this world. As i touch my head against my personal television screen, i see more of the wonders of nothing. This is where the world is peaceful. There is where angels must sleep. This is the pillow that supports God at night. Such wonderful nothingness. It makes me feel calm and peaceful. This is the Journey of Peaceful Nothing.

— The End —