"bashes" poems
Suicidal serial killer bashes the bones hoping to feel nothing
because that would be something
A Swelling self-image pops in the distance
is chewed,
then inflated over and over
this routine never fails to cycle, disappoint, and please
Ethanol injections cuz oral doesn't do ****
give it to me ********
***** I'll munch your muffin just fo nuthin like I'm ****** with y'all
Cuz I surf to fall and smoke to die
In the high where life is inconsequential
to question and I feel less than short
Of supernatural
Who are these new kids?
They dress in tights and pick fights
I can't see your face but I trust the feeling
Damsel's are rescued
blood is spewed
Yet insanity is gushing
The drugs are running out
We might just be super
We might just be heroes
Entropy enters me ripping the glamour and with a stammer I know
This isn't a comic book
Marvel
In awe at these elaborately induced fabrications
and schemes to change the pecking order or chisel
the universe to perfection
The line of schizophrenic and degenerate flees
for the hills
that now have eyes
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
Hypnotic music, joyous sounds surround
The fans, all entranced by the performers.
The drummer happily bashes and pounds
Everything he sees shaped like cylinders.
The hi-hat steadily keeps the rhythm,
The bass drum makes a thud, quite powerful.
The crowd can't help but nod along with him
As he makes these beats so insatiable.
The cymbals create such fearful crashes,
And his finely tuned snare shoots roaring pops
Hurtling towards the off-guard masses,
This manic madness just can't seem to stop!
What exactly does he have left to prove?
*He simply wants to see everyone groove!*
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
I sit back on the computer,
Browsing through the pages of those I grew up with
Those people who thought they knew everything about me
I sit back and see what they’ve made of themselves
This girl is single, living alone with her four cats
This other girl now has two kids, unmarried and no degree
This girl is engaged to her high school sweetheart, yet they don’t look happy
This other couple broke up, wait they’re back together, nope spoke too soon
This guy is working at the local supermarket, never went to college after his arrest
This guy gained a few pounds, no longer the star athlete
This guy dropped off the map
See being the quiet girl, I learned secrets
I knew the deepest secrets of every single one of these people
Because while they sat in the back of the room chattering on about their so called problems
I was sitting in the front,
Listening
This girl had two boyfriends, and even more flings
This girl slept with four guys in one night
This girl’s boyfriend cheated on her, over and over again
This couple would sneak off in between classes, during lunch, or school assemblies
This guy was the trophy child, who gave away free drugs to his friends hidden inside pens
This guy was the quarterback; everything handed to him on a golden platter
This guy was the school stud who was hiding a relationship with his boyfriend by sleeping with every girl he could
Back then I listened because I wanted to feel apart of something bigger
I wanted to be one of them,
I wanted to be invited to all those weekend bashes
I wanted to be the girl people felt awed by, inspired by, idolized
I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd
So I stood there, day after day
As they teased me
Berated me
Shattered my confidence
Tearing apart everything I was
Telling me I would never amount to anything
Telling me I was fat, ugly, stupid
That I unworthy of love
Telling me…
I
Was
Nothing
Let them tell me that today
I see everything of what they have become
Those people I wanted to be are no longer there
Their confidence shattered by reality
The best days of their life ended the day they left high school
Mine on the other hand are just beginning
I am the girl who is wanted
I’m the girl who can go wild
I’m the girl who can be passionate
I’m the girl who is adventurous
I’m the girl who brings pride
I’m the girl who is the athlete
I'm the girl who travels the world
I’m the girl who is unashamed of who I am
Because by pushing me out
My oppressors gave me everything I needed
The strength to try
The courage to dream
The ability to think
The confidence to be unique
Independence to thrive
But more than anything
My oppressors gave me desire
Desire to be more than they believed I could be
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I work for the machine
that bashes bastardized beauty
into the face of the masses
The status quo
of oppressing the Goddess
to some golden ratio
of ***** perfection
"We set the standards, baby"
An arrogance of man,
A battle born in blood
objectifying some sacred symbol,
The cosmic ****
we all crawled out of
as star dust
The holy hole
to heaven on Earth
Gaia taken advantage of
Rejecting the gift of consciousness
We'll de-evolve
like past-life regressions
like we're so self-entitled to
come back around
Among the cosmos
cradled in the crescent
Deny yourself the mystique of the feminine
The clashing of the anima and animus
The syzergy of
the sun
the moon
and us
Call on your angels
And submit to the psychosis
My brothers,
These are our
sisters and mothers
They don't want to castrate
The ******* symbol
Destroy the alpha male
And the omega oppression
The beginning and the end of
**** shaming
I worked for the
misogyny machinery of Moloch
My heart no longer beats here
It just bleeds for her.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
I feel the breeze brush my skin.
I feel nostalgia begin.
And I just want to sit awhile
And let it all sink in.
Sit here with me
Under the shade of this oak tree,
Whose branches we would climb
When we were younger,
Long before we lost the hunger
To go beyond the world we knew.
So what do you say
We pass away the afternoon
Just staring up at the sky?
Finding pictures in the clouds
As they go passing by.
We can talk of days long gone,
The things we've done,
The roads we're on
And people we use to know.
Discuss all the little things:
Family, friends and enemies,
And see where the stories go.
We can let the day fade
As we sit within the shade.
I can feel the night time cold.
On my memories it pulls.
And the familiarity
Has got me feeling old.
Lean against the bark with me,
Where we once carved our names for all to see.
Etchings that have long since faded
Through the battering storms.
The same clashes and bashes and lighting flashes
That left us all weathered and worn.
We can name the constellations
That our memories still retain,
And make up our own
For all the stars that still remain.
Let's discuss the existential questions:
The meaning of it all.
Embrace the cluelessness in
The conclusions that we draw.
And when there's nothing more to say,
No more answers to be reached,
We can pass away the darkness
In the silence finally breached.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
The ninth beatitude
Blessed are the transformed
and the transformers
For they shall know gratitude.
Hair attitudes are our beatitudes
How can I not love my hair
Short, cropped. *****
Long, cascading locks
Braids falling adoringly
Embracing cheekbones of
Historical beauty.
Hair diva's
Divinity, defying gravity...Black hair
Submitting to heat, or the nimble.
Fingers of scientist, chemist who
Are born to a life dedicated to
Beautification of her sisters and daughters
None since Madam C.J. Walker has had
This talent in abundance.
She put her wrist in the twist.
And the "aid" in the braid… new wave
Whose passion is to adore what
She's put into you; She is the true
“goddess of hair”
You are In good hands as
She dares you to move, or
bat an eyelash less
She bashes you, or threatens
to abort the mission Leaving you to
Your own device-Her advice is to become
at one with her- Become putty in her hands.
Her hands plant, plaiting love and patience
into every wrung…Moms,
And Hair Magicians, growing hands
That loom, weave and condition;
Grooming reluctant ducklings.
Into graceful swans
Grooming you for greatness.
(To my best friend)
https://scontent-ord1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/11026273_1641865029363011_1932455644687694397_n.jpg?oh=2c95a0eb069b5f996f26494e277bd734&oe;=56C6FF8B
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
I want to go to the circus with him and fail at the tricks at home
I want to dance in the rain with him and jump in puddles in gumboots
I want to climb trees with him with binoculars and look over the lake
I want to build a pillow fort with him, with Disney movies and chocolate
Something took a hold of me right in the moment
I accidentally got lost in those eyes first time looking into them
His smile made so happy and I think he noticed because he smiled more
I literally felt sparks and a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart
I didn't plan on this happening, far out
I swore to only fall inlove with myself
Too much pain and love is so overrated
But it was beyond my control
And then cupid's arrows kept hitting me
Just a moment in the pouring rain
I saw myself and a billion adventures together in him
A deep urge to hug him came over me
He's so dorky and cute and sweet and innocent
He wears a big clunky watch and is good at maths and computers
He does acoustic covers of Of Monsters and Men songs
He runs around like a maniac in PE and bashes up his friends playfully
There is no definition and there aren't any rules for love
If you think a person is just the bee's knees, that's love
I'm only young but I know an awesome person when I see one
And God will always hold my heart but man, this human... I adore him
I feel stupid for letting another person contain some of MY own joy
I feel so scared that I fell for just the idea of him like I have once before
But ugh, words can't describe how content my heart is
I refuse to say he erased my pain, because let's not be naive, but wow
One day I hope we get to conquer the world in our pillow fortress
<3
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 6:57 AM UTC
We have touched so much since December,
steeping teas torrid and arctic ice cubes
a thousand fibers, prince bee his princess
generous blankets papering flu
the drizzle on wedding dawns or departure’s eve
pieces of candy for holiday celebrations
even the ending of a movie –
these are wild fingers that we have
rebellious, juveniles in mind
singing summer stories through knuckles
bodies long slenderized
and they are more than myself
to them, I have no name
but my brain and I are their mother
a well-mannered woman in command
I feed them lotion,
then play in the sand apathetic
whistles papercuts that sting with
mouths as lions tigers bears sharks leaves
asking which hurts most significantly of all we
have loved –
and then again, what enduring does not belong?
The adolescents scoff at each of their
five circadian baths, and I hear cries
for showers because soap makes them crack
but it is in your best interest, I say;
you touch everything that gets in your way
to move is beauty and transitioning more so:
my hands are dancers, pirouetting
on stage to fall harmoniously with
bashes, revelations, words I care to mean
yes, these are what causes the bleed of
my aging hands, and throughout their years,
rings dying them green.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
Jesus hangs from my rearview mirror,
forced to sway from side to side to the Devil's music --
Big Brother with His ever watchful, weeping lenses.
Most nights I ignore His chimes as He bashes
other charms and mementos on silver chains,
but from the corner of my eye I pray for forgiveness
as His aura changes from red to green.
Sins and skidmarks are left behind the white line
and ***** palms -- wet and hope streaked -- drive the wheel home.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
The dissonance in the air
visiting flashes sonically weaving trembling tales
of flash floods and brushfires. intertwined between and beneath
leathery scales, dorsal fins and rat tails.
Intimate whispered coded messages
massaging ear drum lines menacingly, scratching the passages, cruising through each hall.
tapping at every door.
With a gravely groan, reciting a indecipherable buddhist koan.
Laugh as you may
The moon will leave
Without a notice
We'll be without
Another day.
The dissonance in the air
leaving car crashes and birthday bashes in shambled states of stasis
smiling bits of shrapnel suspended in howling fits of laughter
smoldering hordes of children melting under summer suns
all while a paramedic belts out birthday songs
and a clown juggles displaced screws and cogs.
Disasters and dances have more in common than
dispatchers and discjockeys.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
Just mahogany and horsehide glue,
machine heads and a ***** or two.
Plywood top, solid sides and back,
bone and fake ivory, ebony, and shellac.
Steel and bronze wire, to make her ring.
A well placed sound hole to let her sing.
But for love or money I played here every week,
for 30 years she has earned my keep.
Four star restaurants, or beer soaked bars,
or serenading a lover under summer night stars.
A joyous birthday, sad funeral of a friend,
she's always been there, on one I can depend.
Drunken'- Dancin' New Years Eve bashes,
barbequed sun baked poolside splashes.
St. Valentine's Day love songs, wine and roses,
or a smoky old blues club that never closes.
A nursing home sing along on St. Patty's day,
a hurricane party till we all got blown away.
Christmas carols by soft candlelight,
I've played this guitar most every night.
From Florida to Canada, Vegas to NYC,
from Frank Sinatra, to Conway Twitty.
Zeppelin to Bach, JT to Pink Floyd,
anything to keep me from being employed.
One night in Nashville Greg Allman played on her,
And asked me to join him, oh what an honor.
We make people happy, we bring them together,
when I play on her I am as light as a feather.
Some fell in love, and got married from our tunes,
some nights we're alone on sugar beach dunes.
She's filled up my tip jar, and filled up my heart.
Because of this guitar my life got its start.
I've sat up with her all night, when she was sick,
changed strings a million times, broken many a pick.
Caressed her, strummed her, as she dashed my fears,
cussed her and ****** her, as she tasted my tears.
With her I wooed my lover, until she married me.
She has been my addiction, and she has set me free.
They applaud for me, but she's really the star.
I know it's just wood and wire, but she's my guitar.
###====(==O==== )###====(==O==== ) ###====(==O==== )
For my Takamine "Lawsuit" I bought in Nashville in 1982.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
There's a really heavy typewriter on the shelf above me.
It's old. It's broken. It's beautiful.
"I wish I could use it." is always my first thought when I stare up into its under-carriage of prongs and teeth.
It doesn't fit on the shelf, and it surely doesn't belong there.
My first thought should be "That may fall and **** me at any moment", but I think I avoid that thought because I kind of hope it does. What a way to go out. Not intentional. I didn't put it up there with the intention of it becoming some sort of Medieval time-bomb, but the symbology behind that accidental death would be enough for me to be satisfied with the ending of my life.
If you manage to banish the senseless fascination with your imagination's speculation of what people will think of you if you do THIS...or when THAT happens...then what's there to fear about failure? Failure just becomes progress at that point.
There's a really heavy typewriter on the shelf above me, and a part of me hopes that it falls and bashes my skull in.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Powder of ashes like snowfall in winter
The air and army withered in a splinter
Smoky-grey flaky leaves dead and forgotten
Each cobblestone tinted and tainted
Things of dishearten
I stand in the middle of a big large road
With ashen embers resting on my lashes
My coat and tote limp from the bashes
People lay, some far away and some grey,
The death spell cast on all the bay
I feel a tug in my heart,
Shocked at the sight
Cursed fates for a deadly plight
I stand alone, guilty for having survived
No goodbyes or funerals to leave me teary-eyed
The carpet of carcasses in front of me lay
Left me with loud realization of a lonesome foray
I wished I were blamed for their unjustified departure
Or for my survival inexplicable in any form of literature
The sky now looks a faded rotten orange
With the embers settled like a thick mat on the ground
Suddenly the sound of tip tap made me jump
From my lost thoughts.
My coat and tote comes back to life
I feel a tug and around my calf a hug
The most innocent eyes looked up at me
And said, “Mommy, I want to go home please…”
Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 6:43 PM UTC
Just like everybody else
I was learning for myself
Just what would make me sick
And how the whole world ticks.
Then I quickly ran into collusion
Left me in a state of confusion.
I learned about rationalization
And self-righteous indignation
From purveyors of hypocrisy
Passed off as great philosophy
That labeled some as dross,
Not fit to be the lowest boss.
I watched people get locked out
And ignored when they shouted
The bosses talking about degrees
Driving workers to their knees
Because they couldn’t afford
College room and board
For the four years of beer bashes
And drunken month-long crashes
In Mexican towns full of them
That could go there on a whim
While the children of the working class
Worked hard so their kids could pass
And have a chance to get ahead
Instead of a shoveling until dead.
I was learning this first-hand
That not all of life was grand
If you could not afford to buy.
And banks just passed you by
When you needed a car
Because work was so far
From where you had to stay
In the neighborhoods far away
From the nice neat places
And squeaky clean faces
Of those who inherited wealth
Or were sent to schools
That sent out the fools
That knew how to look nice.
And nobody thought twice
When they weren’t quite as bright
As the people that had to fight
For an opening, then trained
So the rich kid could maintain
In a job he didn’t qualify for
But he had the SAT score
To prove he was intelligent
And had the proper quotient
Whether he could deliver or not.
The rest was all just rot.
And nobody paid attention
Nor would they mention
The kid was a well-trained fool
And what he learned in class
Was how to look good and pass
For a person smarter than
The average working man.
That’s what I learned first-hand
And what I came to understand.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Das Fuehrer gefüllt mit Flöte.
Listening 2 yawns,
meditating on medication,
lisping a cry to Das Führer,
I proffer a pray,
im morgen Früh, im morgen Führer,
im morgen nah; hören Sie mich.
Not 4 pleasure yearning 4 unright
Unctuous crimes. Not with U.
Not with boast (yet not with hate 2).
Hating the bath water with the babe
as it bashes Reaper's polemic
hellfire falling out of window;
Still me, in that kindness enters
my home, bowing cuz the doorway is 2 large.
Guiding in black ink,
writing a way
out of loyalties mouth,
out of sclerotic liver,
and contumacious throat.
I tongue an act, a play,
staying guilty in U,
saying guilty in Us.
Lemmings encouraged to revolt,
Offending in U,
Rejoicing only in Us.
Witness our joy, that Xanex protects
against dull moments, forgetting Us,
bland blessings rightly
Surrounded by Yawn's shield.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 9:06 PM UTC
1720, work’s all done.
Listen boss, I got to dash.
Stopped at florist.
Bought red roses for his lover.
Ran down the street clutching his bunch.
Glanced at his watch.
Sees that he’s late.
To meet the wife.
Anniversary date.
Puts his hand in jacket pocket.
Aims to find his mobile.
Silly sod forgot it.
Got to the phone box on the corner of the street.
Waited a minute or two.
Until in desperation, to give apologetic explanation.
Tap, tap tap, he rapped.
Bashes on the phone box door.
A silly old dear with hair rinsed in blue.
Spins round with venomous tongue.
Shouts out loud.
“Be patient son”.
“Can’t you see I’m having a chat!”
Chatter chatter.
Natter natter.
On and on she went.
Dude outside was going mental.
Mrs Ancient left the cubicle.
Throwing ***** looks around.
Huffing a puffing, like the dragon she is.
The flower man flies in the box.
Receiver picked up.
Dials lady lover’s number.
Typically the number’s engaged.
So, spitting fire the fella’s enraged.
Tired of trying to explain.
Knowing his next train is due in a while.
Runs from the kiosk not wearing a smile.
In his ire he chucked the roses.
Landed in the ******* bin.
At the terminus of train at last.
The flower seller grinned at him.
She could see his stress shine through.
Sold him a bunch of lilies of peace.
Before on to the train he swept.
Key in the front door.
Inside he ventured.
Smelling cremated dinner burn.
“Oops darling I’m so sorry.
You’d never believe the day I had.
See darling.
I didn’t forget our anniversary!”
(C) Livvi 2014
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
The road was shiny slick with glissoning rain as I flew down the highway,
Owl city's voices hymed through the poors of my radio,
"When I'm far too tird to fall asleep" they say,
A car rushes round the corner so I switch my lights to low.
A Buzz or two,
A twinckle light luminates the middle concile,
U coming home baby? We miss you:(
Heh,
I miss u2
A little girl goldest hair you can think of pops into my head,
"Daddy" she says arm streched wide inviting,
"Welcome home, Daddy," the lovliest women you'd ever seen said,
I walk in and the aroma of chiken, mash patatos, and fresh cut bean meet me I'm home in time for supper that's supprizing.
God it's so late,
My headlights chase after the yellow dashed line,
Buzz When you get hom we should go on a d8
22 miles till home says the sign.
Such a long drive,
but to where I'm going it's worth it,
into bed's the first place I'll dive,
all the rain glows like a candle that's lit.
Buzz We can't wait 2c u:)
Reply me 2
I set me phone on the dashboard as I start to round the mountian's sleek edges,
Rain sets the road like ice,
Buzz! I love you;)
In the distance apears yellow wedges,
My breaks are squeaking mice.
Hydroplaning we lose control,
My head bashes gainst the air bag,
driffting away is my soul,
Head hung eyes sag.
Buzz I love you
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Their minds refuse to pace themselves
Their hearts refuse to wait
Their faces split in twos one day
Their souls once pure do taint
Their goals will slip
Their dreams do shake
Their honesty no longer exists
Their lying
Their cheating
Their struggle for power
Their need for attention from anyone
Their morals have changed for the worst
Their pants have turned to mini skirts
Their study dates turn to bush bashes
Their 'never shall I ever's' turn to 'always'
They all turn into the things
They swore they would never be
Once they go through high school
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 8:57 AM UTC
Thought I never openly brag on it
I never found it something to dwell on
You made a gift so emotional that it could never be bought
So inspirational it must be felt and not taught
Then life happened, and so did you
Changing to somebody I could barely view
You spent your days at parties and bashes, long forgetting your truest friends
You left our messages on red and blue, and even when I waited for you
You never rung back
You greatly post about your life, as if you beg for the attention
And looking back and taking some introspection
I realize we were the sun and the moon
Always to be apart, always to have a pull and push
Always to end things early, always to say goodbye too soon
Never ready and never to see the use
I'd ping you motivation and say your eyes spark into the souls of millions
You'd see this message and reply later as if my response is vermillion
You'd say I ignore you for having nothing to work with
And yet I adored you even when you thought I wouldn't persist
Months on end a single ping from you is all I wanted
and seconds on end my response time made you astonished
Many call you out to your way of delaying friendships, to keep them on hold and return when you are in pieces
To have us piece you back together because you learnt this world is vicious
You even told me you find my concern for you so alarming, how anybody so genuine could love **** like you
And even now I second guess before I throw blame and hit skew
You called guys manipulative and even called my lack of time a game
Yet always cried and pleaded when we called you out for the same
So determined to keep a guy on the line while lusting for another
You find it naïve of me to not act like your brother
It's saddening to think we may never find comfort in speaking again
And where I wished you at every occasion, you never wished me a happy birthday
You never told me happy Birthday
Oct 21, 2023
Oct 21, 2023 at 1:21 PM UTC
filial pattern
like fingerprint on glass
so it passes
in blows and bashes
reflections loom
in over under around
to what end
can we change
rock-face and crag
eroded murky-waterfront
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
just forget what i had just said
am sorry that i came a bit late
but i thought that I'd always have the chance
for the sake of humanity
we have been friends for long
remember when we visited river Mathioya
remember all the bashes
and all the good times we had
how could you forget my birthday
and all the fun we had there
he came just the other day
how much do you really know about him
how sure are you he is here to stay
why wouldn't you ask me first
just like you do with other opinions
am sorry if you feel blamed
the fault is entirely mine
i took my sweet time
to mount up enough courage
twice or thrice i have hesitated
so today when i said i love you
when i said that i wanted us to be
when i said that i have known you well
so well that i could take the journey with you
to a future of the unknown
it took me all the energy i could summon
and all the courage i could gather
but i cant change anything now
i should have said it earlier
i should have told you how i felt
i should have let it out
i allowed him to take you for tea
i didn't know he would ask you that
now that you said yes to him
i feel empty inside
i feel like i have lost it all
am sorry it took me long
but if i had the power to turn back time
I'd ask you out the instance we meet
i painted my heart with the colors you like
but now you have a new home
i cry only for tonight
and tomorrow a new journey begins
a wrecking ball for the walls
its time to move on
but how do i move on
when all i have ever loved is you
how could i approach another
while it's you on ma mind
how can i listen to another voice
when yours is ringing in both ears.
i will keep my distance
but i will always love you....
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
It's 5:54 a.m. and the hot salty water bashes against the sand.
Now, the first cars emerge from the night-time lights.
I see a couple,
Him white shirt
Her black shirt
Looking like tourists,
They have the same desoriented expression as I do.
Couple blocks away I watch the red neon
Blinking from the distance,
Next thing I know I'm traveling through
each yellow light
each window
every spit of sea foam
every palm tree,
On top of another hotel
I found a room with lights on, yet
No one seems to be dazzling
in the dark
Gazing the horizon and the dark sea
All by himself...
...besides this hopeless fool
waiting for the sunrise
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC
I think that in the end we would rather keep our pain than jump at a chance for joy....
We would rather hate than forgive and forget because forgiving makes it "ok".
We would rather keep our own crosses than trade for anything else...
I would rather go home to a husband who bashes my face in and his gifts to me are a couple of broken bones and bruises than take a chance with this cold world....
Once you find someone who loves u.. love u in their own kind of way... everything seems OK, perfect even... because nothing hurts more than rejection and uncertainty... It has to hurt to be "Love" ,,, right CUPID?
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC