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#clubs
How did we spend our early Easter morning? We escorted my Grandmère to mass, of course! And much to my surprise, Catholicism is back baby! The place was packed - and not with the usual elderly and ‘death adjacent,’ but with young Gen-somethings. “What’s going on, Monsignor Philippe?” I asked the Auxiliary Bishop of Paris, after the show. “Gen Z’s choosing to shake off p0rm and drugs and revitalise with beauty and discipline. “And,” he added with a smile, “it’s one of the last places a young man can meet a pretty girl.” “That’ll bring ‘em in,” I agreed. On the club scene, some dance clubs have adopted color-coded security consent-bracelets - you pick them up at the door. It’s a stoplight-style setup: A Green bracelet signals you’re open to being asked or flirted with. A Yellow bracelet says, ‘approach with caution - feeling things out’ And Red indicates that you’re not open to being approached. “De-stimulation officers” (bouncers) enforce all of this by removing the clueless and pushy. You have to respect the balance. Love finds a way Every day we get to start over and love is the richest choice we can make Love is like a lottery win in our unequal struggle with destiny. . . A song for this: So Easy (To Fall In Love) by Olivia Dean Arthur's Theme by Nadeah
0
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 11:19 AM UTC
ways
If you doubt there’s real evil in the world try gluten-free pizza - it’s a super low-value experience imagine something criminal, like pizza on a ******* Which highlights the problematic nature of live-forever nutrition. Who’d want to live forever - if that’s what you had to eat? Ok let’s wax poetic.. Our night of Friday unfolded against a black background for the thinning wind-moon was a coin already spent. Oh, it still hung sharp in orbit and still called to obedient waters, and, when it could, it patterned the trees and hills with a pale spectral light, but lovers, who unwisely looked to it as a heavenly witness of their love - mere hours ago - had to admit that the unearthly lampion, was unshapely shrinking behind the silver edged clouds. Ask not for the night to answer for day or even ever-constant stay for the moon is but a brief pulse, an intermittent flashlight on night’s black velvet. Wax off… Peter and I reserve Friday nights for getting stupid. We’re developing regular urban nightlife haunts - like the Gate club and Palais Maillot. But if you go, book ahead and plan on paying extra for a VIP zone or the mezzanine, otherwise - god - you’ll end up in the thrashing mob - and you can order-in food in VIP areas. This will sound crazy - and I don’t know why - but jammed, swirling-lazer-lit clubs make me think of human trafficking - I’d never go to a club alone. . . A song for this: Daft Punk Is Playing at My House by LCD Soundsystem The Moon Cave (feat. Asha Puthli) by Gorillaz mangetout (The Dare remix) by Wet Leg. [E]
0
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 11:08 PM UTC
velvet
If you doubt there’s real evil in the world try gluten-free pizza - it’s a super low-value experience imagine something criminal, like pizza on a ******* Which highlights the problematic nature of live-forever nutrition. Who’d want to live forever - if that’s what you had to eat? Ok let’s wax poetic.. Our night of Friday unfolded against a black background for the thinning wind-moon was a coin already spent. Oh, it still hung sharp in orbit and still called to obedient waters, and, when it could, it patterned the trees and hills with a pale spectral light, but lovers, who unwisely looked to it as a heavenly witness of their love - mere hours ago - had to admit that the unearthly lampion, was unshapely shrinking behind the silver edged clouds. Ask not for the night to answer for day or even ever-constant stay for the moon is but a brief pulse, an intermittent flashlight on night’s black velvet. Wax off… Peter and I reserve Friday nights for getting stupid. We’re developing regular urban nightlife haunts - like the Gate club and Palais Maillot. But if you go, book ahead and plan on paying extra for a VIP zone or the mezzanine, otherwise - god - you’ll end up in the thrashing mob - and you can order-in food in VIP areas. This will sound crazy - and I don’t know why - but jammed, swirling-lazer-lit clubs make me think of human trafficking - I’d never go to a club alone. . . A song for this: Daft Punk Is Playing at My House by LCD Soundsystem The Moon Cave (feat. Asha Puthli) by Gorillaz mangetout (The Dare remix) by Wet Leg. [E]
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23
loan me a dime said the poet to the rhyme dropped like dice from vanilla ice the Gods of poetry spittin words like flem cause they notice when you notice them up in here up in here shout it like you got no fear turn that smokin' room around light her up and buy a round lines that bring em to their knees ask Edgar, William even Socrates this one is yours number one on the chart like a rhyme on a dime to the beat of her heart
0
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 11:00 PM UTC
dime
Sailors clubs are better than the rich ones, We've got sails instead of super boats. The gentlemen, (the ones we've got) Don't drink fine wines but draft beers. There's no sparkle of gold spoons or diamond bowls, But still a Sailor's Club is better than a rich one. Why? Because where else will I dance, A Sailor's jig.
0
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 6:51 PM UTC
Sailors Clubs
If you’re looking for yuletide cynicism here, you’re shopping in the wrong place. This is New York City’s time of year. It’s stood the test of time and it fairly sparkles, proving that the ordinary can be extraordinary. With the right lighting. Lisa’s (parent’s) apartment glitters like our promised heaven on high. When we left at Thanksgiving, Michael (Lisa’s dad) had the concierge service stressed, toting boxes of decorations up from their storage area. When I waved my goodbyes, he appeared to be wrestling an octopus of cool-white fairy lights into submission. Now everything glitters pyrite bright. Our holiday time is limited—and this is our chance to unwind—so we’re selective about what we decide to embrace. For instance, there was a sale at Michael Kors where, no big deal, I got a pair of brogue, black leather wingtips that’ll be straight fire with a little black dress. The bargains were so good that I decided the store must be a drug front. Not that I’m complaining. Do I ever complain? Nope, I’m stoic. Like Eric Adams, the mayor of New York, Lisa and I’ve been “testing the product” of Manhattan's club scene. We’re searching diligently for the new and unfamiliar. When it comes to picking which clubs we want to visit, Charles, our driver and escort (a retired NYPD cop), has gone as far as to suggest, we’re “out of our depth,” and refused to let us even try one or two DJ’d, pop-up clubs in Queens that were getting a lot of heat and likes. “Roosevelt Avenue is the new 42nd Street,” he’d said. What does that even mean?? Indignant silence Anyway, I hope Christmas finds you all merry and bright and that your holidays—whichever you celebrate— are carnivals of food, music, friendship and love—for those are the luxuries that count the most. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Kwanzaa, Happy Festivus! . . Songs for this: Absolutely Everybody by Vanessa Amorosi Rock With You by Traincha . . A Christmas Playlist—because there's 4 days til Christmas https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_28.mp3
0
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 8:11 AM UTC
yuletide cynicism
If you’re looking for yuletide cynicism here, you’re shopping in the wrong place. This is New York City’s time of year. It’s stood the test of time and it fairly sparkles, proving that the ordinary can be extraordinary. With the right lighting. Lisa’s (parent’s) apartment glitters like our promised heaven on high. When we left at Thanksgiving, Michael (Lisa’s dad) had the concierge service stressed, toting boxes of decorations up from their storage area. When I waved my goodbyes, he appeared to be wrestling an octopus of cool-white fairy lights into submission. Now everything glitters pyrite bright. Our holiday time is limited—and this is our chance to unwind—so we’re selective about what we decide to embrace. For instance, there was a sale at Michael Kors where, no big deal, I got a pair of brogue, black leather wingtips that’ll be straight fire with a little black dress. The bargains were so good that I decided the store must be a drug front. Not that I’m complaining. Do I ever complain? Nope, I’m stoic. Like Eric Adams, the mayor of New York, Lisa and I’ve been “testing the product” of Manhattan's club scene. We’re searching diligently for the new and unfamiliar. When it comes to picking which clubs we want to visit, Charles, our driver and escort (a retired NYPD cop), has gone as far as to suggest, we’re “out of our depth,” and refused to let us even try one or two DJ’d, pop-up clubs in Queens that were getting a lot of heat and likes. “Roosevelt Avenue is the new 42nd Street,” he’d said. What does that even mean?? Indignant silence Anyway, I hope Christmas finds you all merry and bright and that your holidays—whichever you celebrate— are carnivals of food, music, friendship and love—for those are the luxuries that count the most. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Kwanzaa, Happy Festivus! . . Songs for this: Absolutely Everybody by Vanessa Amorosi Rock With You by Traincha . . A Christmas Playlist—because there's 4 days til Christmas https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_28.mp3
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40
I handle my liquor as well — as a well striving to keep afloat. In the shadows the nights stretch long, and I come across a girl with a captivating smile; her body, however, bore the marks of countless encounters, of each man who sunk in her, a much deeper borehole. Yet, she adorns herself with a cross, perhaps a silent testament for both parties to start off by saying their own grace. I’m seemingly fighting inner demons; as a silent war etched upon my face — all the while chasing after every idea to extend this human race. Yet, it is a cruel irony that the most profound revelations often emerge only after, we have drowned ourselves in the depths of unspoken answers in our cups. And so, the clash of poor ideas and the taste of liquor lingers on; as the drinks act as an unequal guide, to the morning — where in the aftermath, the bitter collision of misguided notions and the haunting essence of spirits endures.
0
Nov 30, 2024
Nov 30, 2024 at 6:07 AM UTC
Poor ideas in the taste of liquor
Here’s to scrumptious nights. cats and boots and cats and boots We went clubbing last night, to recalibrate ourselves on the dance floor, where magic happens. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots To focus on sensory experiences, the beat, and share in the fun and tangible sense of freedom. cats and boots and cats and boots Feel the wave, show your energy, be the wave cats and boots and cats and boots be disheveled, swing your hair like a weapon abandon, silly, self-protecting vanities cats and boots and cats and boots flashing lights on dancing figures make it all seem slo-mo and extreme. cats and boots and cats and boots It’s been too long since we’ve done it like this. Work-worn, I’d lost my lucidity and stumbled badly on a quiz. Lisa pushed my books onto the floor, declaring, “Get UP, we’re grabbing some bliss.” cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots failure has a reality, a gravity and pull all the more shocking in relief. I’d started out the evening gloomy and ashamed - a figure of regret - but I’m better now, buoyed and recharged and soon I’ll have a plan - hopefully. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots There was a guy there, on the dance floor, who looked like a young Leonardo DiCaprio. We made eye contact, nodding and smiling at each other in motion. We gyrated, together, sort of, for a second, in our separate orbits - no conversation I just watched him for a moment or two, sexualizing him like eye candy. Just seeing him was sensual fun and I wondered what he smelled like. He had a gritty, sweaty, idealized beauty, like a dancing ‘David’ that no Michelangelo could ever capture in stiff granite sculpture. The music ended - momentarily - we knew it would start up again and we were there for it - til 1 or 2 am anyway - then it recranked. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and.. Lisa grabbed my hand, jerking me onto the dance floor almost before I could set down my drink. Eeek! “Slow Down!” I yelled, but my complaint was lost in the din and my involuntary laugh. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and.. . . Songs for this: Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker
0
Sep 28, 2024
Sep 28, 2024 at 8:14 AM UTC
cats and boots
Here’s to scrumptious nights. cats and boots and cats and boots We went clubbing last night, to recalibrate ourselves on the dance floor, where magic happens. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots To focus on sensory experiences, the beat, and share in the fun and tangible sense of freedom. cats and boots and cats and boots Feel the wave, show your energy, be the wave cats and boots and cats and boots be disheveled, swing your hair like a weapon abandon, silly, self-protecting vanities cats and boots and cats and boots flashing lights on dancing figures make it all seem slo-mo and extreme. cats and boots and cats and boots It’s been too long since we’ve done it like this. Work-worn, I’d lost my lucidity and stumbled badly on a quiz. Lisa pushed my books onto the floor, declaring, “Get UP, we’re grabbing some bliss.” cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots failure has a reality, a gravity and pull all the more shocking in relief. I’d started out the evening gloomy and ashamed - a figure of regret - but I’m better now, buoyed and recharged and soon I’ll have a plan - hopefully. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots There was a guy there, on the dance floor, who looked like a young Leonardo DiCaprio. We made eye contact, nodding and smiling at each other in motion. We gyrated, together, sort of, for a second, in our separate orbits - no conversation I just watched him for a moment or two, sexualizing him like eye candy. Just seeing him was sensual fun and I wondered what he smelled like. He had a gritty, sweaty, idealized beauty, like a dancing ‘David’ that no Michelangelo could ever capture in stiff granite sculpture. The music ended - momentarily - we knew it would start up again and we were there for it - til 1 or 2 am anyway - then it recranked. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and.. Lisa grabbed my hand, jerking me onto the dance floor almost before I could set down my drink. Eeek! “Slow Down!” I yelled, but my complaint was lost in the din and my involuntary laugh. cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and.. . . Songs for this: Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker
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43
I received a re-invitation email this morning. A ‘come on, why don’t you want to?’ note that struck me as odd. See, I’ve been ‘tapped’ for a couple of final clubs at Yale. It can happen if you earn top grades and interact easily with male friends by day (the crew club scene is ol’ school patriarchal). Three of my roommates have been tapped - for one thing or another. The upper-crust, traditional networks and secret societies are a huge part of why young men and women choose Ivy League schools. I’m not talking about frats - I enjoy flippant misogyny as much as the next breasted-American and really, does “Yo bruh,” sloppy binge drinking, and ****** assault ever really get old? Yeah, it kind-of does. And I’m not talking about the more open and popular ‘eating clubs’ - no - I’m on-about the elite social orders that enjoy a subversive and exclusive appeal. Some students desperately want to be ‘IN’ and believe those memberships prove they’ve somehow ‘made it’. Let’s face it, someday - if you can’t actually earn it - that skull & bones handshake might open some doors. I’ve attended a few meetings, meals, and parties in “tombs” (in upstairs libraries and houses) around New Haven, but I guess I’m just not a ‘joiner.’ Groucho Marx once said that he wouldn’t want to be a member of any club that would have someone like him as a member, maybe that’s it for me too. Anyway, this harangue is sponsored by the glower that that silly email put on my face. “What’s the matter?” Leeza asked, seeing my expression. It reminded me of watching people suck-up and ‘social mountain climb’ to get into my grandmère’s (boring) circle. If your club is so exclusive (email sender), why on God’s confused earth would you want me? Hey, I like parties, dances and hanging out with eskimos - but I'm a pre-med student and the time/value equation just doesn't stack up for me - I’ve got the M-CAT tests next summer and prepping for those has taken over my life. It’s ironic though, how by day students at Yale go-on about ‘elitism’ - in stylized outrage - and then by night they strain to join these crew clubs. slang... final clubs = elite clubs and secret societies eskimos - really cool people crew = elite (crewing is seen as a sport for the elite)
0
Dec 29, 2023
Dec 29, 2023 at 8:58 AM UTC
taps
I received a re-invitation email this morning. A ‘come on, why don’t you want to?’ note that struck me as odd. See, I’ve been ‘tapped’ for a couple of final clubs at Yale. It can happen if you earn top grades and interact easily with male friends by day (the crew club scene is ol’ school patriarchal). Three of my roommates have been tapped - for one thing or another. The upper-crust, traditional networks and secret societies are a huge part of why young men and women choose Ivy League schools. I’m not talking about frats - I enjoy flippant misogyny as much as the next breasted-American and really, does “Yo bruh,” sloppy binge drinking, and ****** assault ever really get old? Yeah, it kind-of does. And I’m not talking about the more open and popular ‘eating clubs’ - no - I’m on-about the elite social orders that enjoy a subversive and exclusive appeal. Some students desperately want to be ‘IN’ and believe those memberships prove they’ve somehow ‘made it’. Let’s face it, someday - if you can’t actually earn it - that skull & bones handshake might open some doors. I’ve attended a few meetings, meals, and parties in “tombs” (in upstairs libraries and houses) around New Haven, but I guess I’m just not a ‘joiner.’ Groucho Marx once said that he wouldn’t want to be a member of any club that would have someone like him as a member, maybe that’s it for me too. Anyway, this harangue is sponsored by the glower that that silly email put on my face. “What’s the matter?” Leeza asked, seeing my expression. It reminded me of watching people suck-up and ‘social mountain climb’ to get into my grandmère’s (boring) circle. If your club is so exclusive (email sender), why on God’s confused earth would you want me? Hey, I like parties, dances and hanging out with eskimos - but I'm a pre-med student and the time/value equation just doesn't stack up for me - I’ve got the M-CAT tests next summer and prepping for those has taken over my life. It’s ironic though, how by day students at Yale go-on about ‘elitism’ - in stylized outrage - and then by night they strain to join these crew clubs. slang... final clubs = elite clubs and secret societies eskimos - really cool people crew = elite (crewing is seen as a sport for the elite)
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15
We were at a club in Paris called L’Arc. It’s an outdoor club (spring break plus covid safety) that’s underneath the Arc de Triomphe. It’s 10PM and we’re coming from a night tour of the Louvre. The night sky was clear and it was 65°f. I was with my posse of (3) roommates and two guardiennes (provided by my Grandmère) who travel with us at all times. The man chatting me up was as hot as middle-school but honestly, it was hard to fake an interest in whatever he was saying. Was my ½ interest going to ruin us - this thing we’d shared for 5 minutes? No, he seemed to say, our connection was stronger than that. Finally, I focused on his WORDS. It was hard because the music was so loud. Hey, this is off-topic but who’s your favorite French band? You don’t HAVE one, do you? No, because they ALL positively felate. It turns out that he was a tiger - inviting me home for a respectfully quiet banging session - because he lived with his mother. I reacted like any college freshman would at first by thinking I was about to be sick. Don’t flag me as antisex (If we’re flagging), I like a joystick now and then. They’re cute and like dogs, they’re always glad to see you. But the idea was disgustingly retro - my parent dodging days are over. Besides, our (roommate) agreement for this trip ostensibly forbids random hookups and did I mention our two escorts in tow? I kept my cool. After all, we had another tray of shooters coming - staying put was clearly the right decision. He took my semi-blank reaction for the rejection it was and disappeared back into the crowd. C'est la vie
0
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 12:33 PM UTC
He was hot
We were at a club in Paris called L’Arc. It’s an outdoor club (spring break plus covid safety) that’s underneath the Arc de Triomphe. It’s 10PM and we’re coming from a night tour of the Louvre. The night sky was clear and it was 65°f. I was with my posse of (3) roommates and two guardiennes (provided by my Grandmère) who travel with us at all times. The man chatting me up was as hot as middle-school but honestly, it was hard to fake an interest in whatever he was saying. Was my ½ interest going to ruin us - this thing we’d shared for 5 minutes? No, he seemed to say, our connection was stronger than that. Finally, I focused on his WORDS. It was hard because the music was so loud. Hey, this is off-topic but who’s your favorite French band? You don’t HAVE one, do you? No, because they ALL positively felate. It turns out that he was a tiger - inviting me home for a respectfully quiet banging session - because he lived with his mother. I reacted like any college freshman would at first by thinking I was about to be sick. Don’t flag me as antisex (If we’re flagging), I like a joystick now and then. They’re cute and like dogs, they’re always glad to see you. But the idea was disgustingly retro - my parent dodging days are over. Besides, our (roommate) agreement for this trip ostensibly forbids random hookups and did I mention our two escorts in tow? I kept my cool. After all, we had another tray of shooters coming - staying put was clearly the right decision. He took my semi-blank reaction for the rejection it was and disappeared back into the crowd. C'est la vie
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6
my bleeding hearts of stolen spades and clubs are now in your cheating hands
0
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 7:47 PM UTC
Card of Heartbreak
Glass box mirror, she's primping and prepping, neon lights in a smoky bar, alluring and unrelenting, swaying and swarming she is on the hunt, praying she isn't the one being preyed on.
0
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
Untitled
Why did I just roll my eyes when you walked in? I've seen it all before, that sheepish grin! Your cologne meets me even before your glances. I'm fresh out of giving strangers second chances! Other women notice you, giving all the more reason, I should just walk away, it's not even your season. My feet won't move, ugh... is that cognac I smell? Suddenly you're next to me, I'm like - swell! Then it happens, you grin and ask me my name! Playing coy, I'm sizing up my move in this game. After all, I sipped before you entered that door. The alcohol kicks in, and I think "SCORE"!!!
0
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
Split Decisions
thrumming bass pumps into my body an electric pulse, thumping through my bones, zapping my veins and frying my nerves creating static as the golden drops pour into my ears hair flying around my head in a wreath of hell the speakers sing *I'm ****** up, I'm black and blue. I'm built for all the abuse. got secrets that nobody knows. I'm good on that ***** **** I dont want what I can get. I want someone with secrets that nobody knows. I need a gangsta, to love me better, than all the others do...* a tech hum fills my body bodys sliding in tune with the tempo hands run on hands run on back and thighs the song croons with delectable bass got me up so im barely breathing... fingers trace my neckline and I bend with the notes eyes closed hands clasped swirling in a mob of people, all surging with the beat the energy is high, and seeping in through my skin i drink it all in
0
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Music In My Veins
You always called me your Queen And said you would be my King But in the end, I was just the Joker; I suppose that makes you the ******* So please kiss my Ace goodbye.
0
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
It Was Just a Game
The dead trespass through my mind They cave in skulls through forced lobotomy They strap the population for lethal injection They take lead fists to soft flesh Claws to clean eyes Stealing voices Cutting out pink tongues Cramming microphone down your throat Can you hear me now Hammers and clubs slam death home with every blow Tonight we let the victims show
0
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
Victim Show
The best thing about juggling Is hanging with my friends On the days I'm struggling They're there to make amends We spend our time in laughter Learning tricks with different tools Sit and chill much after To others we look like fools But we don't care,we are us And that's how its supposed to be The smallest victory worth a fuss We are wild and we're free
0
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Juggling
All I see at bars is bouncing, smiles, and laughter full of sad eyes and repression. A bunch of lonely people looking for a warm night and a cold morning. Connections built to a beat, and you have to blame all parties because that's what bars are for. A house of human fluid, dank floors filled with feet and fluttering hearts, moving parts when all any of us needs is a real caring conversation. A real daring contemplation, I know, but though I'm a young anomoly, I honestly believe these thieves of youth are used to their dishonest truths. We don't even know it's a problem.
0
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
Bar Stars and Lying Smiles
I had a life once, with friends and school and clubs. I don't anymore. Does that make this the afterlife?
0
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
Afterlife
*Ellie's sailing down the river Tessa's sitting by the lake Four of us going separate ways on a hot summer day Phil's driving up the mountains Looking for a classic thrill coupled with a few spills Four of us on our own adventures on a hot summer day*
0
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
8♣10♣4♦5♦A♥
Shaky fingers, touches that linger, bruises that cover her arms. Desperate stares, men that don't care - empty words abundant in charm. Cigarette smoke, dancing that provoke strangers to move closer in. Eyes painted black, shot glasses thrown back, lipstick stains that cover his skin. No one wants to sleep alone, "Could you give me a ride home? Of course, I can walk alright." Roofied drinks, missing links - "What happened last night?"
0
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Weekend Cycle
*Shuffle my thoughts bridge my emotions Build a fortress that can't be moved I'll be the queen of diamonds You'll be the outlawed joker Together we'll be the wildest cards and rule the land of poker Deuces* ✌
0
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Card games