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Ademar Jr Dec 2019
I always love some good pictures
But there's more to that even though their treasure
It's the fact you can't get away with pleasures
For it causes you remarkable gestures
As I walk and talk, I forget what life is about
I then saw you and it caused a dark cloud
I can't help to forget you for I hear your every sound
I hear it despite it's not that loud
I'm crazy and craving for you like a hound
At night I even tried searching for your house
As my plan had started to bound
I will capture you as my queen
I will crown you and make me your king
You will forget your family and siblings
For no one can sabotage my feelings
Your face, it delights my everyday desires
It makes me happy and does lights up fires
You can't escape this, so don't get tired
I'm here with you as I also try to capture your heart
You can't stop it, for it is fast like a thrown dart
I'm hallucinating and want all your parts
For this substance had made me a monster in the dark.
Mitch Prax Dec 2019
Dear diary;
Why is it that my
misery craves company
the more my morale
continues to fade?
Too many times have I
known flesh that was
not my own
this year and it has
taken me too long to realize
that it isn't the cure.
Mitch Prax Dec 2019
She caught me
climbing up the stairs,
naked as an ape,
in the lonely hours
of the morning.
“You used to enjoy
these kinda sights.”
She slammed the door
and went back to bed.
Calla Fuqua Dec 2019
We were all born crying,
And sometimes I think that even our tiny bodies could already feel the pressure of an unfair world.
A world where women’s bodies are a prize to be won or an object to rank.
A world where people obey the sign in the museum that says “Do Not Touch”,
And those same people decide that it’s a suggestion when a woman says “Do not touch”

Hands on my body before my first period.
Not sweet hands like sweet caroline.
Before, evil was something I used to look for in Disney villains, now, it’s eyes are everywhere, glued to my 17 year old body.
It’s in my neighborhood, in my coffee shop, in my bed. It whispers me shakespearean sonnets and tells me I’m ****.
Runs its fingers up and down my spine, zig zagging over the bone. Its kisses are soft and gentle, like springtime. It makes me feel important and deserving.
Then the sonnets turn from Romeo and Juliet to Macbeth, and It tells me:

****** thou art; ****** will be thy end.

Touching hands, not sweet hands.
Hard, cold, unloving, cigarette stained hands.
Cold hands on my beautiful body, my spectacular self.
I call out to nothing, and nothing responds.
I sink deeper into the bed, wanting time to stop, fast forward, or rewind or something.
I wait for the sonnets to end, and the pain to go away.
I wait for grass to grow and paint to dry.
And then it stops

and I am not me.
Max Neumann Dec 2019
You
are




very











special
Regardless of your skin color, gender, age, money, ****** identity, religion, atheism, cultural and historical background.



You are special. Because you are loved.
God or whatever we might call this unique power loves everybody.
EVERY-BODY.
God is good.

Today is a good day.

YOUTUBE: SAMI YUSUF – FORGOTTEN PROMISES
sushii Dec 2019
spikes and chains
i enjoy the pain
frilly lace
and satin space

you’ve got quite a pretty face
especially when it twists into a scowl
when you put me in my place
Mitch Prax Dec 2019
What could you and I
do with more whiskey and a
little more bruising?

7:07 PM
16/12/19
Mitch Prax Dec 2019
Your tongue
is an abstract painting,
an artwork born of passion,
each stroke so intricate
yet so abstruse.
Paint with me,
darling.
Jack Torrance Dec 2019
Giddy with excitement,
she fumbles with her keys.
As the key slides home,
she grows weak in the knees.

She’s waited so long,
and it’s finally come.
She spent a small fortune,
and the thing weighs a ton.

She pushes in the package,
starting to sweat,
and suddenly realizes,
her ******* are wet.

She slides a finger inside her,
and lets out a moan,
trembling slightly,
all the way to the bone.

Gathering herself,
she locks the door tight,
and forces herself to calm down,
gathering all her might.

Getting down on her knees,
she opens the box,
brushing away the packing,
like styrofoam rocks.

When she sees his face,
she sits up *****.
He is so lifelike,
and anatomically correct.

Reaching into the box,
she caresses his face.
He’s so beautifully sculpted,
not a thing out of place.

Then she runs her hands,
down his chest to his groin,
caressing his ****,
feeling the warmth in her *****.

It’s bigger than expected,
as long as her forearm.
The biggest she’s had,
but this raises no alarm.

Taking her time,
she arranges him on the bed.
Even laying a pillow,
under his head.

Running fingers through his hair,
she begins to undress.
Doing it slowly,
cause slowly is best.

He’s more than a doll,
more than plastic parts.
He will never hurt her,
or break her heart.

She crawls on all fours,
in between his thighs,
running her fingers over him,
as she stares into his eyes.

Then she fills her mouth,
******* gently at first,
and then she fills her throat,
trying to quench her thirst.

She’s dripping now,
so exquisitely wet,
and moaning deeply,
like a good little pet.

The doll lays still,
as she mounts it slow.
She’s lost in her pleasure,
as something brushes her toe.

She opens her eyes,
as a hand grabs her throat,
and another her breast,
her vision starting to float.

She struggles for air,
and feels a ****** as it moves,
and a soft moan escapes it,
as the blackness consumes.

Bucking and fighting,
she claws at its face,
but it simply slides deeper,
and quickens its pace.

She stares down into eyes,
that are filled with life,
and features so sharp,
as to be carved by a knife.

It’s beauty is gone,
simply melted away,
seeming to flow freely,
as if made from soft clay.

As her vision fades,
it moves inside her,
whispering “my princess”,
in a soft little purr.
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