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shamori Jan 2019
Attached for life
A reminder of tough times

Not to remind me of tougher times, but to remind me that I’m still in tough times



Can I cover up how I feel with how I feel?

Just to look down and feel ashamed of how ashamed I am?


Will you look at my skin and wonder of a story? Ask for my motivation? Or look at my skin and make up a story and wonder on my lack of motivation?


I feel good about my designs. They define me.
I hate these designs. Because they don’t define me.



With pain comes pleasure. A sign of living.
With that pleasure comes numb and a longing for living.
i get tattoos
to love my skin
instead of scar it

i get tattoos
to love the art
that goes into it

i get tattoos
to love myself

i get tattoos
to reclaim
what you stole

this is my body

this is my art

this is not yours

this is me
Irina BBota Dec 2018
Maybe I hear the silence of the stars on the arch of my heart,
maybe you'll sail on waves of agitated times, keeping us apart.
Maybe the bird's chatter is resounding, whispering my name,
maybe you'll travel through dark shadows, playing Satan's game.

Maybe every dream in life begins with a romantic dreamer,
maybe Love is sleeping its hard, tormenting sleep of a redeemer.
Maybe you wander in my thoughts, and I, through your mind,
maybe we strip off from our emotions without being fined.

Maybe my heart is singing for you on high musical notes,
maybe my nights became days on the instrumental boats.
Maybe I'm a human who has many tattoos on her soul,
maybe in life, I went through storm, agony, without any goal.

Maybe my expectations are limping in front of the endless fears,
maybe life's harshness is pushing my burdened shoulders in tears.
Maybe your sweet soul wants to speak to me in gentle words,
maybe my fate will take-off on its flight, resembling birds.

Maybe I will not tear any page from the big book of my life,
maybe I'll forget the past and look at the good parts, without a strife.
Maybe life has no subtitles at all and perhaps I need a dream,
maybe to give me an illustration about how it's like in heaven's team.

Maybe your soul is searching in me just a sweet isolation,
maybe the reality is another and with us in a long litigation.
Maybe we are just simple actors in life's longest play,
maybe we should be more careful and don't forget to pray.

Maybe I feel my legs strongly tight up, with no chance to run,
maybe I don't want any help, or to be indebted to someone.
Maybe I want to measure the happiness in tiny short moments,
maybe I'm tired of receiving just words and compliments.

Maybe the smile of your heart gives to my soul a new chance,
maybe I need a bit of courage to accept another avalanche.
Maybe in my soul, I feel like dying, because maybe I'm in love,
maybe I feel more, but I'm afraid to admit all I've written above.
strtyma Nov 2018
He drew elaborately but never nicely.
He drew flowers, cigarettes, and tears.

He drank elaborately but he never cried.
He drank beer but never flavored strawberry.

He collected his empty cigarette packets in his drawer,
like I collected the broken hearts and beaten skeletons of lost lovers in my closet.

In his black car, I looked down at the city lights at night,
while he looked in my eyes.

I let him touch my body and I let him touch my mind,
parts of me no one has ever touched or seen.
He let me delve in the tunnels where he hid his feelings, nightmares and dreams.

I never counted the days.
He took me to a zone of another time.

His upper lip was as scarred as his mind.
His eyebrows were softly arched trails for my thumbs.
His eyes were as dark as he wanted his soul to seem.
The darkness appeared on his skin only in the shape of a black tattoo of a rose that I’ve touched but never kissed.
Perhaps others have seen sparks of the little but strong light deep inside his heart,
but only I felt it with my hands and let it drown me.
Only I felt his warm tears rolling down my own cheeks.

The first time he said he loved me was the last time we talked.
He was in tears and in pieces.
And then he left me peace-less.

He was the only boy I haven’t told about love
even though he was the only person my heart had learned to love.
L Oct 2018
Thats it.


Just

Stargays.
http://drop-out.webcomic.ws/comics/1
"Lol this ones for you.

You know who you are."
RE Strayer Oct 2018
make love to my tattoos.
kiss them, brilliant.
breathe into them the
elegant way that you live
easy, free, alpha.
my tattoos are
who i am
they are my insides as much as my outsides
i am turned inside out, even
lover girl, with flakes of skin
dusting  inspiration   windowsill collection
graffitied DNA   Physical sins
a wrist left heart broken
I lost
my eden somewhere
in the night counting
the flakes of
my dreams for tomorrow
that gather on the floor
alongside my memory foam coffin
in a clump of
yesterday’s skin.  


Yeti Youngblood
Cece Oct 2018
I’ve got flowers
of all types in my pocket,
stars hung up
in the sky,
a dress
made out of sweetness,
honey, ice-cream, and pie.
I’ve got plans
for some tattoos,
a tiny blue flower,
stolen right from the clouds,
peaches and cream,
and a strawberry,
picked from the sunset,
delicate, pretty, almost a dream.
I’ve got a lifetime left
of laughter,
of tears,
and hearts shattered,
swept up, stored away,
memories clouded by sunshine
and London fog lattes,
talking with friends
in a timeless, gorgeous café.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2018
My neck hurts from the curves that come when I exert,
enough energy to network with these nerds and increase my net worth,
she’s an alcoholic hanging out at the bar I’m a workaholic raising the bar,
so take a guess at who’s efforts are worth more,

anyways here we are,
or rather there we were,
since I’m with another girl now,
and no longer with her,

I’m with a girl I met on Venice Beach,
who wears tattoos on both arms like sleeves,
which is ironic since that’s also where she wears her heart,
at any rate I’m with a girl I met on Venice Beach,

we had dinner then had ***,
a typical set of activities on any given night in this city,
and after she finished she said I’d crossed a line,
and she proceeded to tell me a story,

of how she’d been gang ***** a few years ago,
and how she still carries what had been done to her around,
about how she’d been drugged up then **** fckt,
then left alone bruise faced ****** assed on the ground,

no reason to sugar coat it,
men can be fcking disgusting,
that’s why if I was a woman I’d be a lesbian,
and I don’t mean that in any way that’s funny,

we spoke in our awkward line crossed post *** sweat,
laying there exhausted on my bed,
we talked about how men are such conflicted creatures,
how they can be so nice on the surface but so mean with ***,

how most of them are just looking for a place to stick it in,
and how sickening that fact is especially since I’m one of those *******,
and she left my house soon after but I didn’t expect her to stay,
especially since everything we’d begun to make had already turned into a disaster,

and as she disappeared into the night,
on a bike as black as the sky,
I thought about how she reminded me,
of the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and why…

∆ LaLux ∆
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