"dilemmas" poems
Masters of the Universe,
tender me thy resignation,
if but for
a day,
a millennia,
no matter how measured,
any being,
you, purported supreme
or otherwise,
are tired in ways
hard to comprehend
*tender me
thy responsibilities and dilemmas,
have studied your resignations,
solutions that provide no resolution...*
I can do better.
Why?
not obligated by parenthood,
rules of randomness superimposed,
all I got is human kindness
the eyesight that
colors kindness,
tolerates no injustice,
milky white light,
no longer recognize
"there for the grace of God
go you and I"
have no name,
but if you need one for me,
call me
<human>
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
hello,
have you been
well?
i guess not,
for your attention
in my poem
could tell
sorry if this nurse
took so long
in finding
the perfect words
to cure
your soul
first,
strip your clothes
and
stand at the mirror
gaze at the
creature with
the foggy figure
there's
a sinkhole
in those eyes
and a temporary
stitch whenever
you would
smile
the collarbone
which hides,
suffocates from the
blanket of skin
with
sickening lies
it penetrated
and
corrupted your mind
ignored the
fact and just
romanticized
the beast
will **** you,
please
don't find
it ****
the chaos is screaming
later on
you'll be
empty
i know how
a reflection
cries
you lost yourself
you lost you
it's like
having a stray cat
beneath your
tissues
a wandering stranger
sails from
the memories
of truth
overflowing blood
choaked
your dilemmas
too
it mimicked the
fire of hell
in those
shoes
the greatest harm
you'll ever
cause you
but why a
nurse
and not a
doctor?
listen here,
you are your
fighter
the cure and the pain,
which decision
will define?
all i can
say is,
save yourself
from death,
because
it hasn't
deseved you yet
go ahead
and fight your
way to life
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 3:51 AM UTC
There are categories....
Positive: Narcissists think they are better than others.
Inflated: Narcissists' views tend to be contrary to reality. In measures that compare self-report to objective measures, narcissists' self-views tend to be greatly exaggerated.
Agentic: Narcissists’ views tend to be most exaggerated in the agentic domain, relative to the communion domain.
Special: Narcissists perceive themselves to be unique and special people.
Selfish: Research upon narcissists’ behaviour in resource dilemmas supports the case for narcissists as being selfish.
Oriented towards success: Narcissists are oriented towards success by being, for example, approach oriented.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
In his dreams the Vally in the throes of efflorescence call out
in a language heart alone understands;
from the hanging bridge over Ganga, he views the ice-capped peaks,
Vally's ***** extravagance and the river's turbulence.
The river runs too deep, at times he finds,
the currents treacherously strong,
from the window of his *Ashram, the view is clear.
She bathes naked, alone on a step submerged in water,
eyes feast on her moonlit curves,
the pleasures skin deep, camouflage the existential dilemmas ! he smiles
In memory his Guru speaks:"Eat only those fruits that make one immortal"
Yet another Himalayan journey in search of the fruit tree unknown
It's too late to redefine, life and love when the avalanche thunders above
on his lonesome path, every step uphill is fraught with slippery stones,
one way leads to the top, to bathe in the light of the star reaching down
Some days end in too long nights, too cold, the sun shows up hesitant,
her body has the warmth that reaches to his icy depths,
a ****** alone could penetrate, but it still wouldn't melt
Himalayan silence, chant of Ganga, the ghost of a ******
that follows him like a faithful dog, are all these fragments of a dream
or realities stringed together from many different planes?
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
A true story of a chance gathering of strangers in the back room of a Gelato Parlor *** restaurant, two years ago, in a little village near the bay, on a land surrounded by vineyards. Come visit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gelato Nation
There is a place,
location secret,
mine to keep,
mine with which
you to tease,
make you envious,
a back room 'office'
jealous guarded
by a barkeep,
whose chosen invites sweeps
you into a reality that is
what you will it to be.
But nota bene, note well,
remembrances of things swell
from your past be the
only tongue spoken here.
Code word entry only,
a shared whisper.
Perhaps One Woman,
may reveal its pleasures,
if she so chooses,
which are:
gelato laughs, poetry snaps,
Beatle songs sung ensemble,
by rag tag strangers
self-collected accidentally,
sung de rigeur off key
by voices lubricated by
cognac, laughter, and
the coldest of white wines,
issue of the very soil
upon which we sit.
Words to value properly,
not in my possess to capture
the few moments in time when;
Strangers transform themselves
into a triple A nation united,
that will never be
S&P; downgraded.
A holy alliance
celebrating July 4th
all night long,
all participants
signatory witnesses to
its gelato conception,
as well as pallbearers
to its last drink dissolution,
the fullness of its lifetime
a vintage of a few hours extant,
a vintage, once drunk, is
a history, forever gone.
Mixologists please record:
One playwright, a psychologist, bond trader and a social scientist
with a dash of museum director,
and do not forget the
Hundred Year Old Woman,
whose Dowager Princess Daughter
(she, a mere eighty)'
from Central Park West
clarifies all of life dilemmas with
the singular analytical tool of:
But is it good for the Jews?
**But t'is the barkeep
who is the leavening
in this evenings human
pastry-petrie dish.**
He makes the pastiche,
the ions of personalities,
coalesce best,
guitar strummer,
singer of songs that were our
multiple national anthems
when we were pseudo-rebels
starting out on our
long and winding roads.
Long the King of the Keep!
Long live the memory of our
Gelato Nation,
may it stay sweet in
our antique collection of
the best moments of
our intersecting lives.
July 2011
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
I am the hurt you can't ignore,
dilemmas you wish not to explore
I am that feeling you cant shake,
the flashy white smile you know is fake.
I'm the tale of a broken heart - sailing through a shattered mind
I am the endless search - for the things you can not find
I am all of the times - you wish you could rewind.
I am the light that shines - only to leave you blind.
I am the anger that they feed
I am the task you cant succeed
I am the garden full of weeds
I am the open wound that bleeds
I'm the tale of a broken heart - sailing through a shattered mind
I am the endless search - for the things you can not find
I am all of the times - you wish you could rewind.
I am the light that shines - only to leave you blind.
I am the lies that you thought were true.
I am the ties that are binding you.
I am the aroma of decay
I am the trash that you throw away.
I am the unwanted.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
Your face, lights up the sky on the highway
Someday you'll share your world with me, someday.
You mesmerized me with diamond eyes.
I try to fool myself to think I'll be alright.
But I am losing all control -
My mind, my heart, my body and my soul.
Never in my life have I been more sure
So come on up to me and close the door
Nobody's made me feel this way before;
You're everything I wanted and more.
To speak or not to; where to begin
Your great dilemmas I'm finding myself in
For all I know you only see me as a friend
I try to tell myself wake up fool; this fairy tale's got to end.
Never in my life have I been more sure
So come on up to me and close the door
Nobody's made me feel this way before;
You're everything I wanted and more.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
Each morning,
When I look into the mirror
I see you in my eyes
Yes true! That's another place
Where you reside.
All I wish to see more
Is to look at you
And your sweet smile.
I promise you that,
Through thick and thins of life.
It'll be me always
By your side
Helping you out to overcome
From your worst dilemmas.
Being your strength, your power
In the darkest scary nights.
Trust me on this.
Be it any of the craziest situations
But I'm going to be there with you.
I want to hear you
As long as you want me to listen.
Putting my best efforts
To be the best version
of your reflections
I am sure when I say that
I'll take the best care of you
Because as happy as you are
means that
I'm happy too.
No....never! I won't stop you
From exploring your heart
How could I?
I'm just the person
who would see you
Getting better as the day passes by.
Those days, when you'll be
Crying, silent or totally *******
Trust me, and then too
You'll find me nearest to you
Wiping out all your worries
And trying to make you smile.
I swear, at your most vulnerable state
I'll make you feel the most loved.
Those moments you'll take
The most important decisions of your life
I'll help you to stay up until the mid-night.
Even…if you ever fail
I'll remind you that
Darling! You are my HERO forever.
Maybe! Someday it happens
when you might forget that
How much you really mean to me
Believe me! Even that day too
I'll tell you and remind you
That I'm in love with you.
Nothing could set me apart
From you,
But the death, as it's powerful
And until I exist
I’ll care for you always
Remember that
You're my dearest friend.
Maybe! In this whole journey
I could not come across you
But then nothing in this world
Could stop me
Flying in love
truly, deeply, madly
With YOU; my hero!!!
©️ Lalima Yadav
Thank you very much for stopping by. Radiate happiness. :)
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
When I was nine
I went to school
Enjoyed hurdle race
Laughed often
Yet to have goals
Love my family.
When I was nineteen
I stuggled in studies
Friendship dilemmas
Laughed lesser
Set to work on aims
Began to love life.
When I am twenty-nine
I have embraced life
And my own shortcomings
Smile more
Let life flow as it is
Love humanity.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Days drift away, mind ease the pain
The rains wash away, passion still remains
I think of her smile and the lips as they purse
How I want to feel her skin between my tips
It gets worse
Because there's no privacy in life
No place we can go
The desire for romanticism, blown away by my ego
So my mind runs wild
Does she compare me to others
or do I not have her desire
Does she mean when she says 'I love you'
Or am I simply hallucinating
Whens she dreams, is it of me
because it's her when I do
In fact it's her when I don't
and it's here where I confess
that every waking moment I am thinking of her ***
I know that she might see this
and that it's too personal to be public
But I take leafs from her book
Stylistically, confessional release
Removed from zones of comfort
but I can't rhyme
I tried a few times
I try too to be a feminist, and to respect every boundary
But truth is, I want to let loose sometimes
Take her, make her mine
Show her that her body is perfect in my eyes
Use my body, pin her down
Make her head spin around
Learn every spot of pleasure
On her body, in her mind
Wishful thinking maybe
She'll never call me baby
That's a good thing maybe
Pet names are lame and lazy
She has more important things to worry about
Not my over stimulated testosterone fantasies
Of how I want to tear away her-
That would be crass, so I won't say it
Instead I'll load up her favourite song and play it
or open up her pictures, touch myself and-
Again I can't help myself
I hope she never reads this ****
Because it's truly my most personal composite
Every word I write, I'm hating it
So for that reason I'll end this bit
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
©Jeannine davidoff 2011
table 22
sitting at table 22
wondering what to do
life meanders around
keeping me on the ground
opening options
opening dilemmas
process thoughts
delight in fantasy
develop dramatically
time is ripe
pick the fruit
sally forth
** ** ** **
here i am again
at table 22
knowing my heart
knowing what to do
(moving on is easy - jack johnson – playing in the background)
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 1:42 PM UTC
To the middle school English teachers
that simplified Shakespearean plays to the last syllable, feeling like the same dagger of odd epiphanies.
The distinct powdery paint stained floors, acrylic smudged tables and the coffee aroma by 09:03.
An art class educated by a poetic tongue, flicking through all art movements like he existed eloquently in each.
Our engineering & graphics teacher who simultaneously mothered us as her own from the isolated section of block D. In the background, a blackboard with meticulously drawn site plans of the highest precision. Her shouts were just as sharp.
To my spontaneous IT teachers that taught me how to maneuver through binary dilemmas and store any distress in random access memory.
Or to the person who found my wallet with my ID and bank cards but had no idea where my cash disappeared to.
The aloof B15 bus driver constantly arriving before the last bell, especially on rainy pastel gray days.
The far too kind Mrs Sharon. I've never met you personally. However, your positive impact on my grandparent's life rolled both from their tongues and into my life.
Thank you.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 1:52 AM UTC
As I sit on this assigned desk
ears drooling with institution gel
I swirl on the seat, the wind pause
Musing in evangelised dilemmas
Lobotomised to jerking veracities
Sagacity amateurs boost egos
Stooping and stooging in asylums
Barricading others progression
Regressed losing solid grounds
Jurisdictional custodial supervisions
An infused scent of propagandism
Scenes of robotic observational modelling
Unprincipled to insist on another destiny
Calculating targeted risked predictions
Regulated to invigilate and unroll a matrix grid
Who am I? To forge his,her or their trench
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
I’m tired of influencers faking nervousness.
my generation wants to care less
these days.
it’s a counter-current hack.
we want to be less defined.
we can search and reflect for ourselves.
we’re sick of the emotion
that’s all over everyone’s faces,
the unsightly splotches of opinion.
the entire election machine,
the process of getting there, is smudged.
It’s a curated mess, an advising spin,
an incomprehensible hex:
“Oh profit pondering,
contradictory means to an end
- bless weave, and conceal,
bloodless dollar debt options,
painful penny pincher paradoxes,
and deadly debt bliss dilemmas..”
“Is this a witch or an arbitrager?” Lisa asked, after rudely leaning over and reading up to this point.
“I was shooting for a numinous type of beat,” I revealed.
“We’re supposed to be working on our thesis definitions,” she said accusingly.
“Are you not challenged, here, hour by hour?” I asked sarcastically.
“I need ideas - well - I have too many ideas, I need some focus, I wanted to see what you had.”
I deadpan looked at her, “Well, you broke the spell - I lost my train.” I complained dryly.
“Don’t put me in a situation.” she said, waving my gripe off as insignificant.
.
.
Songs for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
drive ME crazy! by Lil Yachty
Melt by Nilüfer Yany
Oct 14, 2024
Oct 14, 2024 at 3:06 PM UTC
You were far away.
Farther than halfway across the room,
A glass in your hand and that crooked smile
Rising like the sun on your face.
I was swimming-
Maybe drowning in a sea of people.
He was trying to talk to me-
About the every days that composed of
Almost nothings.
I swear I felt my skin wrinkle in my
Little black dress
And my toes pinch in
My high heels.
I told myself it was worth it.
He said I was beautiful
But I look across the room
And your eyes don't meet mine.
Each time I look at you and
You don’t notice me,
I feel myself taking a step into
The inevitable stairs of
Heartbreak.
I danced all night with him-
He taught me how to waltz in squares
And spin in turns.
His hands fit into my curves
Like those plastic cylinders
That build towers and cities.
But I still felt it didn’t belong there.
Your hands
I bet would fit like roots into
My earth
And this would beat any hundred story
Building because it was natural.
He might have disagreed with that
And at one point through that night
So did I.
If my heart was beating a thousand times
Per second and
My palms rained over my knees
And my cheeks were apples ready to
Be picked every time you passed by,
Surely that isn’t natural.
Slowly, I was pummeling
As the night neared its end.
I had not danced with you.
I had not talked to you.
I had not even walked by you
And yet I could have.
But with a heart beating as loud as mine
I didn’t want to risk you hearing it.
One thing for sure though,
I know was completely natural,
Was goodbye.
It was going to happen
And most say that it's the worst moment
Of any night
But honestly,
I had fallen in love with our goodbye.
Good night wasn’t enough but your
Tan rays of light blooming the roses
In my cheeks,
Proved you to be a source of life.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
Chastized me, how dare I want.
Your insignificant dilemmas,
The crisis queen has selfishly kept my heart
As I fester in this corner.
I, the jonah, vicariously burning,
I, the ungodly freak, fed your masked scraps.
I, the fool, bathe in your false hopes.
I, the ***** am entitled to no affinity.
Yearning for a place, a moment, une amie.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 7:11 PM UTC
There's secrets exchanged
Under the round peachy city light,
Across Gadjah Mada street
Between 4 privilege kids
Denpasar has it ways
To unite west-east-north-south at once
Here, to the feast
To the riddle of longing
To floating dilemmas
To confusing adulthood
We've been together before
Not just a narrative hunters
When the wind oppress
We are lost,
but we're not gonna lose
Jan 2, 2022
Jan 2, 2022 at 10:27 AM UTC
He dreamed he was Sappho's one true friend,
whom she trusted to share her amorous secrets,
And soon this revelation; his point of no return !
He longed to be a woman, to let her make love to him!
Is it her body, soul or poetry,don't ask him
what made him truly crazy,triggering unnamed pleasures
The other part of him, in love with himself, relentlessly protests,
"My desire for her is that of a man to a woman"
In every passion filled story of love,there is a river of fire
to cross, a challenge to to take up with a 'do or die 'spirit
Love puts one in dilemmas without resolve, and observes,
declares one as a winner or a failure, at the long last!
A life steeped in a fantasy, even in sleep,he is entangled
in hopeless love,which makes him a martyr, victim or hero
When he wakes up, he dreams, he'll bring about lasting peace.
By reading Sappho, till the time he decides it's enough!
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 2:00 PM UTC
I believe that is one of my most common dilemmas
To embrace power; nay tis weakness.
Power is mine* but to flaunt it for no reason but its expression?
What's the lesson? What am I getting?
More separation, more illusion.
Power only breeds confusion.
When it isn't used for fusion.
So quit your focus of "losin'."
Time creates this horrid illusion
Of those above and those below,
But guess where we all go?
Back into the same whole.
Forgive them, for they act
But do not know.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
I want to print letters on paper that bend to form the shape of your hips
with ink that fades to match the veins in your wrists;
sonnets to make the bard weep
and ****** queens put love before country.
You should be reminded every day
that when the light glints off your irises in bleary wakefulness
a morning glory trembles in envy;
that your skin is the perfect canvas for a masterpiece
simply because you absorb colour;
brightness;
life
with each step you take
and hold it in your pores for the world to gaze.
I want to taste cigarettes on your tongue one day
and cool mint the next;
on the third you can hold me in place
and remind me what it’s like to be grounded,
then blow me away when you breathe laughter on my neck.
I want to feel your flighty touch
between the blades of my shoulders
and know your fear and courage
as you mend my splintered glass vertebrae.
I could give you mined stars,
but they’d only dim in the presence of your heart
(but let’s face it; I can only afford zirconia).
Instead I will give you islands of the purest sand
and the clearest waters,
where you can stand on hope without fear of falling
and forget the flavour of defeat;
mountains to climb when determination to achieve
finally prevails over the comfort of your shell;
libraries that solve all your dilemmas
yet leave you asking more questions than when you entered.
I will give you the world, for you have given mine.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
Limbo
Black hole quasar pulsar star meridians oblique oracle messages from beyond the lost between the bureau of the forgotten
Dreams images disjointed some admirably projected on the screen of the mind they tell you a mystery where is the key
Like being in a library books everywhere any subject any topic whatever your taste or fancy but without retrieval how rotten
Space fascinates holds men enthralled the searching of the cosmos the whole of life it has consumed the overly curious
What I’m talking about is if you could take a meteor shower put it in a black velvet bag capture true magic hold for your disposal
Take droplets of rain speak to them and they would obey your voice become for one hour that which you desire most from life
Find the passage to the center of the mountain a gapping cave where a true oracle is beheld divine utterance her real espousal
You take knowledge long hidden disperse it among the most troubled and confused and aura breaks and arches those of need
Life’s dilemmas and contrasts these intangible twisted knotted fields of gloom you touch bows unknown understanding blooms
Course contrary buffeted by unpleasant wind oh to know how to rescind make rays of hope grow in resplendent rows
The common coal fired and pressured over millennia does purist light ignite the mind soul and heart in excitement it consumes
Striation found in the cold glacier this natural marking take from it learn the soul has divine grooves that only play spiritual tunes
This might sound farfetched but one day it will be the norm for Gods family the unexpected the unbelievable your daily life
Now we are in neutral or the drive is mostly in the natural like you build the best house then someone sticks up an eye sore
There is the contrast the conflict your spiritual house shines then your enemy self wrecks and devalues ruination rife
The spirit oracle revealed that the devil wants you as a trophy in a case how nice God wants you but he wants you as family
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend
My ex boyfriends found a man
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend
Who hates me, though he’s never met me
At least that’s what I think
He’ll never be what I am
Or do what I can
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend now
He got himself a man
I get it, I got it
Nope, I understand
My ex boyfriend went and got himself a man
So we move on
Simultaneously
We’ve each found someone new
And he’ll do all things he couldn’t do
As for me
Whatsername and You-Know-Who
I was the chill chick you could kick with
And you made a big deal out of me
For a good minute
But you went back to the strip back to the chicks
With the fake **** that are just as big as mine
You could’ve had me the whole time
I was the real deal, head to toe, Inside out
And I’m furious like .. **** you
But I still wonder where we could be, right now
And part of me would probably take you back
Somehow
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend
My ex boyfriends found a man
He’ll never be what I am
Or do what I can
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend now
He got himself a man
As for me
We were strangers headed to rush hour with an hour layover
Complaining about the wait
We bonded realizing we are around the same age
I only got your name off the plate on your necklace
Mackayla
We sat together on the arriving train
You told me about things in your life I had no idea about
Names and places and daily dilemmas and I related right back
You got off 3 stops before mine
When you departed a man and woman sat in the aisle next to ours
And it put me through deja vu because they’re both going through
What we just went through
Strangers at first who converse and relate
He was talking to her about how he likes to meditate
I found this strange
Especially when he told the woman how it was nice to meet and chat
Because life is no longer like that
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend
My ex boyfriends found a man
He’ll never be what I am
Or do what I can
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend now
He got himself a man
As for me
I’m sitting in the plaza one day
On top of the leveled wall
Enjoying the september weather
Checking some messages while waiting on a call
I adjusted my hair, then this man makes his way over
To me from way over there
I had caught him staring at me a few times
But tried not to look him in the eye
He sits right next to me
Thigh-to-thigh
And everyone around us is also a guy
Minding their own business, totally oblivious
Reading the paper, or scrolling their phones
And I just wanted to be left alone
Right across from my own home
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend
My ex boyfriends found a man
My ex boyfriends got a boyfriend
Who hates me, though he’s never met me
At least that’s what I think
He’ll never be what I am
Or do what I can
My best friend got himself a husband now
He got himself a man
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 2:34 PM UTC
The experiment is maliciously cold, dangerously cunning-
A wrong sort of rapture
An invitation made in amusement
People surround you like the frigid flames in a hyena’s eyes just before it pounces
The experiment is brutality, a completely psychological Auschwitz-
A nightmare down memory lane-
But whose memories are they?
The experiment (seems) to work by gas lighting and technology-
That’s all it needs- cigarettes and soup
But who’s at the watchtower?
I have no delusions of reprieve- despite what people tell me
They- the illusions, delusions, holograms of people reaching out in “love”
Your love is a weight, just like mine is to you
Yes, I bring sorrow to you, but out of this sorrow something was created
Something you can never know because it can’t be possessed-
Too many ideas and too much time…
Still searching for one thing- not love, but truth
Have a roast, lay it on me
Don’t hold back because you don’t want my blood on your hands
It’s already been spilled
You live with my faults and my dilemmas and my neurosis,
But I must live everyday in the body that houses these faults, dilemmas, neurosis.
Still they turn on their Piscean baths, expecting a scorpion not to drown-
A crematorium with no weapons-
Inanimate objects speak, but humans gurgle out white noise,
A poison formed first in the brain then saturated by the tongue
And all the demonic children….
I am that demonic child. I am that vat of toxic waste.
I am a liar, a sinner, a drunk, a madman, a beggar, a freak, a thief
My pain fascinates others as they tap on the fishbowl glass,
Making me shudder
Are these the people of God?
Am I a person of God?
Most likely neither
But how did it come to this?
And really, what would Jesus do?
Jesus probably wouldn’t live in America
And love isn’t enough
They crave conformity, obedience-
What a sick, twisted practice
The sacrifice of one for all
Don’t make any waves, but here’s an ocean
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 1:50 PM UTC