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it makes its entrance in flashy fogs, the selfish hog of undesired credibility, the crushing weight of "cool." it's so like the fragile strength of the rain, burning on your skin, yearning to slip in to something a little more casual, a little more ****** hexual textual we flirt in codes we glance in nods we feel in rhythms we speak in silence, we dance together with the thrusts and sways of our bony little hips, feeling and inspecting one another though never looking upon either face. it was so real yet so fake, plastic kisses and the taste of regret, the sterile defilement of a hotel bed, your **** in my mouth, your ***** on my chin, your hand on my head and my insecurity's egging me on, whispering the truths that often try to hide within the narrow little alleyways of my tiny little head, "it is too late to save yourself," "you were never clean anyway," "heaven is a lie," "you have no say." I choke on your **** you tell me to shut up, you slap both my cheeks and you tell me to grow up. it all pushes me down so hard, so strong, so discouragingly, so relentless in its intent like the gentle power of the rain, the bursting burning on my skin, the heaviness of unnecessaries. I make my exits in flashy fogs, I am a magician, a wizard, a ghost and a demon. I am a legend, a fable, a story with no end, lost to the cities full of ancient histories and ruined worlds and patterns of the Earth forgotten; I am woven into the rich and tangled workings of the world forgotten.
0
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
deep inside
it makes its entrance in flashy fogs, the selfish hog of undesired credibility, the crushing weight of "cool." it's so like the fragile strength of the rain, burning on your skin, yearning to slip in to something a little more casual, a little more ****** hexual textual we flirt in codes we glance in nods we feel in rhythms we speak in silence, we dance together with the thrusts and sways of our bony little hips, feeling and inspecting one another though never looking upon either face. it was so real yet so fake, plastic kisses and the taste of regret, the sterile defilement of a hotel bed, your **** in my mouth, your ***** on my chin, your hand on my head and my insecurity's egging me on, whispering the truths that often try to hide within the narrow little alleyways of my tiny little head, "it is too late to save yourself," "you were never clean anyway," "heaven is a lie," "you have no say." I choke on your **** you tell me to shut up, you slap both my cheeks and you tell me to grow up. it all pushes me down so hard, so strong, so discouragingly, so relentless in its intent like the gentle power of the rain, the bursting burning on my skin, the heaviness of unnecessaries. I make my exits in flashy fogs, I am a magician, a wizard, a ghost and a demon. I am a legend, a fable, a story with no end, lost to the cities full of ancient histories and ruined worlds and patterns of the Earth forgotten; I am woven into the rich and tangled workings of the world forgotten.
the devil doesn't feel
hands
Written by
hands
Lebanese
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
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