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"hooker" poems
We live in a world filled with stereotypes. Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are. There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ****** There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope. There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody. People ask us all the time of who we think we are, but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are. Some people are considered a brain. Some a trouble maker or a **** A princess or a ****** But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways. Everyone of us has some athleticism in us. Everyone one has gotten into some trouble. We have all had are princess or prince moments. And everyone of us is weird, some people are just better at hiding in it. You remember my neighbor I told you about? She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her. And that boy with the baggy clothes? He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks. And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much? She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety. So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you. And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.
0
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
Stereotypes
We live in a world filled with stereotypes. Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are. There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ****** There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope. There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody. People ask us all the time of who we think we are, but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are. Some people are considered a brain. Some a trouble maker or a **** A princess or a ****** But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways. Everyone of us has some athleticism in us. Everyone one has gotten into some trouble. We have all had are princess or prince moments. And everyone of us is weird, some people are just better at hiding in it. You remember my neighbor I told you about? She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her. And that boy with the baggy clothes? He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks. And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much? She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety. So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you. And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.
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27
**** this dude is annoying as hell Says the over indulged little man on his Hipster compy Can you feel the self-loathing? Good. Cuz, this is me slitting wrists Nothing is really that impressive when you write it yourself I’m never proud of the words Arranged on paper But **** that guy can poet. **** English, I do whatever I **** well please Let me chill you. I’ve heard children be labeled as mistakes I still can’t believe that. I could sit here and write salt all day That **** would still surprise me. Like a one-legged ****** bursting out of the cake on the 4th of July.
0
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
Like a one-legged ****** bursting out of the cake on the 4th of July.
Ruddy's was the place to be on Wednesday nights, cheap drinks, free hotdogs and the graceful presence of Times Square hookers late at night, what a wonderful scene, marines hookers and the best jazz juke box inn manhattan, rowdy and something almost always happened, better than life. I was a young man in a strange country, had my fists tested in FLA and Brooklyn for stupid prejudices on my behalf and others, words hurt only those who do not know their meaning and root. There was a black man sitting next to me, quiet and still, a true barfly, he turned and said; - you are not from round here- -  no - I said -I am from Mexico - - you don't look Mexican, but let's go with it, I don't look African American either- - r you from the south?- -Georgia, as they call it - -well, I've worked in FLA and met some rednecks, Cubans, blacks, but almost no Chinese- -you mean yellow- -or ******* - or **** you know men, I prefer racism down south, over there the distinction is cut loose clear, we don't like each other, but here, men I tell you, you wannanother beer?- -sure men- -Girls just wanna **** you cause I'm black, you know, to be cool and **** -yeah, Jewish girls wanna **** white Gentiles, different reasons same goal- -I hear you, here it's all about being fashionable, but deep in the pit it's all fake as a 10 dollar coin-   We kept at it until Beth started a fight with another ****** they were calling each other **** I've never heard.
0
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Dialogue between a **** and a blackman.
I have found myself related to Gomer; yes, I am also a hustler. She had relationships with different men, while I engaged myself with my own selfish plans. She slept with them for so many nights, while I slept with selfless thoughts, unaware it wasn't right. She had correlation thinking it was alright, while I linked myself with faulty motives and to it I delight. We were ****** in our different ways. Unrighteous deeds we both had praised. It corrupted her mind and body, while it made me a ********** spiritually. In the midst of my unfaithfulness and cruelness, I have found love and forgiveness. For love came down and bought me with a price, showed me the beautiful meaning of sacrifice. The blood of the lamb cleansed and restored my impure soul. An enough reason that makes me whole. -Steph Dionisio, December 02, 2015
0
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
® I Was A **********
*** Worker to a house wife -->) Entertain not for me hatred It is only for a daily bread I take your  husband abed. Since you are so timid In haste, you leave your husband Restless and discontented. ********** is an art My dear sister You should surely master Than on me nicknames pester Harlot,Slut,Hooker and a ***** Read a lot on the subject With your spouse develop the art At long last When you prove your dexterity In conjugal felicity A tip it would be for mental integrity. With affection and suggestion open Your spouse,you can turn A ********** machine, What else do you need in return. By and By You may not seek a hit on the sly (<--A housewife to a *** worker) My dear sister in Christ I know there is nothing foul in your heart Except,you are a *** worker by ill fate. Thanks a lot for your comment Which I will second no doubt. Dear sister in Christ At times if both You and my husband Get debouch of beer or Highland Check you have a ****** at hand Just when you hold him inside, For otherwise Severe will be the consequence For me and my child. So you are morally obliged By "No ****** no *** to abide I am also willing to you extend A helping hand That could help you On your feet stand Than barter your body For a daily bread!
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Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
No ****** No ***
Oh Ramen, Sweet as sugar You shall fill my stomach with a myriad of tastes. I am like putty because you’re my ****** Your enchanting dance at an unstoppable rate Sip, slurp, and swallow Everywhere you go I follow I can’t help but be the cooker Since you’re an amazing looker You’re the heart inside my soul seeing you every day is my goal It is my heart that you stole.
0
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
Ode to Ramen Noodles
My heart pounds for your smile, Dogbreath I like you more than a ****** likes **** you may be family and I may call you bro but it’s not ****** when you’re a Juggalo. I’ll never forget the day that we met one kiss and I wanted to be your Juggalette my passion for you burns like a thousand suns it can’t be contained even if I were restrained by nuns. My desire for you isn’t even satirical if you think about it it’s kind of a miracle drawn together like magnets – how do they work? and the way you touch my **** drives me berserk. You wrangle records like a big money rustla I like Lady Gaga and ain’t much of a hustla I was born this way, but my heart can grow bigga if you’ll take my hand and say you’re my *****
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Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
My Hatchet Is On Fire
365Nectar #42 Don't Be Judging Me Mon. November 4, 2013 8:26 P.M. Volcanic velvet voices vibrate the night like thunder in the distance. Booming Bassmen blaze and burn like ****** fire on a dark corner in the dingiest part of a rumbling city that never sleeps. Sensual saxophones shudder singing prayers of saints and sinners while hot horns hypnotize in perfect high compression swirls tithing in the holy temple of Jazzy Blues. An alluring flutter of silken harmonies. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. Scorching strings splinter melancholy prison walls. Stomping out a seismic sizzle tempermental tones of tickling trumpets torch the menacing hurricanes of life with warm rushes of excitement. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. "Take Me" Vixens tantalize tucked up crowds with thrilling tongue lashes of silken harmonies. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. Full flaring flutes gently ****** with inquisitive fingers and stir a groan like a religious ritual. A playful teasing floating enticingly like a sly fox. Such a succulent piercing of moonstruck madness pulsing mercilessly leaving fields of fire of a funky boogie menace for a wild child. An alluring flutter of silken harmonies. A spine tingling spike of don't be judging me jazz filled blues. Copyright ©2013 Don't Be Judging Me
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Don't Be Judging Me
i'm keeping all of your shirts i would **** all over them and mail them to you but i like the way they fit all of my friends loathe you they told me you were basically a ****** i said they were full of **** and on to the next host to **** dry and feed frantically on false love a mark pulses where you bit was it the *** that bred this bond? was it ******* because you never found my ****
0
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 12:57 PM UTC
*******
but you are smooth in full regalia reptilian in your lounge suit your westchester upbringing shows in your brooks brothers snake skin boots so she knows your from old school money and plants a perfumed eye on your rear end it sticks there like sweaty glue every inch of her polished skin fermented at great expense and you thought suntans were hard to pay off try having the ***** pickled in whiskey but the divorce would leave you a destitute sideshow on rodeo drive with nothing but your mansion and your jag standing between you and the unwashed masses so you make her slap on another layer of makeup you drop another crotch rocket happy hardness pill and slip a few more bucks over the border to Switzerland and drop a quick prayer to the twin god of Morgan and Stanley that the market holds for one more day lounge lizard pushing seventy with a twenty two year old ****** on one arm and the keys to the rolls clutched in your liver spotted hand your ready for anything you may be king of the florida keys but gotta respect the cash flow if what your pointless poison bites off your **** more than goes into your mouth then ya gotta wonder kiddo if moving back to the homestead in Spuyten Duyvil might be better than lettin lifestyle carjack your life that twenty two year old ***** you got poured all over your lap has more spider in her than girlish charm shes a train wreck waiting to happen ill get ya to the border safe and sound don't 'cha worry bout that have you headed north fore they even know your gone may be the king of the florida keys but it high time we get ya back to brooklyn fore they bury you down here
0
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
lounge lizard
but you are smooth in full regalia reptilian in your lounge suit your westchester upbringing shows in your brooks brothers snake skin boots so she knows your from old school money and plants a perfumed eye on your rear end it sticks there like sweaty glue every inch of her polished skin fermented at great expense and you thought suntans were hard to pay off try having the ***** pickled in whiskey but the divorce would leave you a destitute sideshow on rodeo drive with nothing but your mansion and your jag standing between you and the unwashed masses so you make her slap on another layer of makeup you drop another crotch rocket happy hardness pill and slip a few more bucks over the border to Switzerland and drop a quick prayer to the twin god of Morgan and Stanley that the market holds for one more day lounge lizard pushing seventy with a twenty two year old ****** on one arm and the keys to the rolls clutched in your liver spotted hand your ready for anything you may be king of the florida keys but gotta respect the cash flow if what your pointless poison bites off your **** more than goes into your mouth then ya gotta wonder kiddo if moving back to the homestead in Spuyten Duyvil might be better than lettin lifestyle carjack your life that twenty two year old ***** you got poured all over your lap has more spider in her than girlish charm shes a train wreck waiting to happen ill get ya to the border safe and sound don't 'cha worry bout that have you headed north fore they even know your gone may be the king of the florida keys but it high time we get ya back to brooklyn fore they bury you down here
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45
I am the mutt mix ****** soul'd ***** tongue'd, Animal boy, Feverish *** green like February Tree moss eyes, Siren song blink of a kiss, ***** yellow dress, around her knees, king, Queen, Peasant, peasant, going def like grandfather Navy Time, like Beethoven's 7th dream, wine induced inspirational serene beauty, with a sharp stale touch, of old leather, boiling like Texan Hot weather, ****** orange lipstick, No food, only the bacterial salt, left on the pistachio shell, That some, Hispanic goddess, For an hour, 200, dollars, left as she, got dressed, and fluttered away like, smoke, like, memory.
0
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Miracle, Mystery and Authority
Okay, It goes like this you see. 10pm, on a late thursday evening. I was sweating like a ****** in church. I grabbed my armbands and turned on the shower. It was cold as ice to the touch, but begun to warm up eventually. Thank god my wife remembered to turn the geezer on or else I was going to slap a ***** create waves of flesh on that ugly *** face of hers. Anyway. After stripping down to my birthday suit, I popped on some shampoo and spreaded that **** in my hair. Creating a burning sensation, tingly, like ants crawling in my head. Suddenly I was smacked like an unwanted child by the smell of burnt toast in the air, with the shampoo still sitting in my hair. I turned around and right before me, something was coming out of the plug hole, like something out of a b-rated horror movie. Looking like my wife's homemade cooking, **** was alive, and then it lunged at me. I tell you, if it was not for those Tom Cruise movies lecturing me in the art of total *** kicking, I would be a dead naked man with armbands in a tub, being eaten by the unholy guacamole. You gotta believe me, when I tell this story, This was not all in my head, You can't just write off what I have said. I know it must sound insane, But a mexican's lunch crawled out of the drain, I beat it's *** like a drum, like Lars Ulrich at a metallica concert , and sent the **** back down the hole it crawled out of. The devil wanted to bring me down to the deep end, It is a good thing I bought my arm bands.
0
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
Unholy Guacamole
Okay, It goes like this you see. 10pm, on a late thursday evening. I was sweating like a ****** in church. I grabbed my armbands and turned on the shower. It was cold as ice to the touch, but begun to warm up eventually. Thank god my wife remembered to turn the geezer on or else I was going to slap a ***** create waves of flesh on that ugly *** face of hers. Anyway. After stripping down to my birthday suit, I popped on some shampoo and spreaded that **** in my hair. Creating a burning sensation, tingly, like ants crawling in my head. Suddenly I was smacked like an unwanted child by the smell of burnt toast in the air, with the shampoo still sitting in my hair. I turned around and right before me, something was coming out of the plug hole, like something out of a b-rated horror movie. Looking like my wife's homemade cooking, **** was alive, and then it lunged at me. I tell you, if it was not for those Tom Cruise movies lecturing me in the art of total *** kicking, I would be a dead naked man with armbands in a tub, being eaten by the unholy guacamole. You gotta believe me, when I tell this story, This was not all in my head, You can't just write off what I have said. I know it must sound insane, But a mexican's lunch crawled out of the drain, I beat it's *** like a drum, like Lars Ulrich at a metallica concert , and sent the **** back down the hole it crawled out of. The devil wanted to bring me down to the deep end, It is a good thing I bought my arm bands.
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21
I don't ask you to be faithful - you're beautiful, after all - but just that I be spared the pain of knowing. I make no stringent demands that you should really be chaste, but only that you try to cover up. If a girl can claim to be pure, it's the same as being pure: it's only admitted vice that makes for scandal. What madness, to confess by day what's wrapped in night, and what you've done in secret, openly tell! The ****** about to bed some Roman off the street still locks her door first, keeping out the crowd: will you yourself then make your sins notorious, accusing and prosecuting your own crime? Be wise, and learn at least to imitate chaste girls, and let me believe you're good, though you are not. Do what you do, but simply deny you ever did: there's nothing wrong with public modesty. There is a proper place for looseness: fill it up with all voluptuousness, and banish shame; but when you're done there, then put off all playfulness and leave your indiscretions in your bed. There, don't be ashamed to lay your gown aside and press your thigh against a pressing thigh; there take and give deep kisses with your crimson lips; let love contrive a thousand ways of passion; there let delighted words and moans come ceaselessly, and make the mattress quiver with playful motion. But put on with your clothes a face that's all discretion, and let Shame disavow your shocking deeds. Trick everyone, trick me: leave me in ignorance; let me enjoy the life of a happy fool. Why must I see so often notes received - and sent? Why must I see two imprints on your bed, or your hair disarrayed much more than sleep could do? Why must I notice love bites on your neck? You all but flaunt your indiscretions in my face. Think of me, if not of your reputation. I lose my mind, I die, when you confess you've sinned; I break out in cold sweat from hand to foot; I love you then, and hate you - in vain, since I must love you; I wish then I were dead - and you were too! I won't investigate or check whatever you try to hide: I will be thankful to be deceived. But even if I catch you in the very act and look on your disgrace with my own eyes, deny that I have seen what I have clearly seen, and my eyes will agree with what you claim. You'll win an easy prize from a man who wants to lose, only remember to say, 'I didn't do it.' Since you can gain your victory with one short phrase, win on account of your judge, if not your case.
0
3.4k
On fidelity
I don't ask you to be faithful - you're beautiful, after all - but just that I be spared the pain of knowing. I make no stringent demands that you should really be chaste, but only that you try to cover up. If a girl can claim to be pure, it's the same as being pure: it's only admitted vice that makes for scandal. What madness, to confess by day what's wrapped in night, and what you've done in secret, openly tell! The ****** about to bed some Roman off the street still locks her door first, keeping out the crowd: will you yourself then make your sins notorious, accusing and prosecuting your own crime? Be wise, and learn at least to imitate chaste girls, and let me believe you're good, though you are not. Do what you do, but simply deny you ever did: there's nothing wrong with public modesty. There is a proper place for looseness: fill it up with all voluptuousness, and banish shame; but when you're done there, then put off all playfulness and leave your indiscretions in your bed. There, don't be ashamed to lay your gown aside and press your thigh against a pressing thigh; there take and give deep kisses with your crimson lips; let love contrive a thousand ways of passion; there let delighted words and moans come ceaselessly, and make the mattress quiver with playful motion. But put on with your clothes a face that's all discretion, and let Shame disavow your shocking deeds. Trick everyone, trick me: leave me in ignorance; let me enjoy the life of a happy fool. Why must I see so often notes received - and sent? Why must I see two imprints on your bed, or your hair disarrayed much more than sleep could do? Why must I notice love bites on your neck? You all but flaunt your indiscretions in my face. Think of me, if not of your reputation. I lose my mind, I die, when you confess you've sinned; I break out in cold sweat from hand to foot; I love you then, and hate you - in vain, since I must love you; I wish then I were dead - and you were too! I won't investigate or check whatever you try to hide: I will be thankful to be deceived. But even if I catch you in the very act and look on your disgrace with my own eyes, deny that I have seen what I have clearly seen, and my eyes will agree with what you claim. You'll win an easy prize from a man who wants to lose, only remember to say, 'I didn't do it.' Since you can gain your victory with one short phrase, win on account of your judge, if not your case.
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50
Hey you with the beard, are you Muslim? Why does it matter what ever you believe? You who wears the cross, are you a Christian? What does it say about you? Are you honest are you true? Do you follow the commandments laid down by your lord? You with turban on, are you a Sikh? What are you hunting? Hey you in the short skirt with makeup layered thick, Are you ****** Tell us quick. We need to know. You in the chair with wheels on. How did you get there? Unless you choose to tell us we shouldn't care. Need to make judgements? You in the cassock, Are you a bishop? Chick in the habit, are you a nun? Could just be fancy dress, A hen party. A nun on the run. You with ebony skin... Are you that different to me ? I think not. Gay guys and lesbians, transgender guys, transgender chicks. Think before throwing sticks and stones. And breaking bones. Words hurt. Under the skin the being within...is HUMAN. Attitudes decided by images externally. Be who you want. Just gotta be free. Does it change the person inside? Think of these questions before you decide. (c)Livvi MMCV
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
DIVERSITY
She wore bright glossy Humbug tights. Aw **** the way she smoked her Marlboro Lights was pornographic. She flicked her smoke rings at the traffic and was blown to bits by cheap hairspray. (Considering my love of Jean Genet, I told her ‘you make sense this way.’ She smiled and clicked a ****** heel. ‘Holy **** How real you feel!’ Not that I have points of reference.) Stop confusing my ******* preference with La-La-Lola Soho Kink. Your lips are painted ***** pink and you wrap them round your glass and down your Lambrini-Girls Pre-Party drink. (I want you against my kitchen sink!) And naked - How you overplayed it! I think you were a bit afraid of both your halves, your masquerade, your matching scars. (What did mermaids do to all their sailors struck by stars?) You’re a crazy fusion, Top-heavy wonder. You’re a woman, my dear - and you pulled me under.
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Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
la-la-lola
We claim to be children of God in this age. We claim to want peace as we fire hand grenades. We want the truth as we tell our own lies. We want promises but break our own ties. Corrupted, mislead, riots turning the streets red. Turn off the TV, tuck your children safely in bed With these images stuck in their head. Our brains are rotting what has this world caused us to be? 21st century zombie- Plugged in at all times. Why is our laziness not considered a crime? Why has He Not come forth to teach us there's So much more in this life- Besides the pillage, the **** Everyone has their own *** tape. The ****** the politics, the News There is no difference, no one wears a cape. We claim to know what's best, but let the wrong govern us: the minority and the rest. We claim to want to help, but lock up the wrong because he is not like our self. We claim to be equal, but won't let me marry who I want to still. We claim and we claim, but it all stays the same.
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 2:16 AM UTC
Hypocrites
Can't catch me in pink. Bubble gum goth. I be honey bee. Or maybe The Prince Of Darkness, just watered down. You know. Diluted, with glitter. Sparkling. Sulking in the Sunlight. Going to bed at breakfast. & Waking up at dinner. I'm runnin' on hooker's time these days.
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May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 12:46 AM UTC
Bubble Gum Goth
I wore "too much black" today I wish I was allowed to look like me I was a ****** on the corner" I wish I was allowed to wear tight clothes I wore "goth make up" I wish I was allowed to wear eyeliner I was a "no good *** I wish I could wear my beanies and caps
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
My Outfit
my stomach is a ****** being knocked around in a game of mocking humor.
0
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
a #4 with red lipstick please
She sits on the sidelines Outlined by shadow and smoke Her curling p's and q's go unnoticed Watching him wallow in darkness Persephone and Hades comes to mind Although in reverse The ashes of her springtime **** craves the bright burning flame of his  Unforgiveness Coming on like a fifth street ****** Red lips and sky high thighs She's got bad intentions  His fathomless inkwell craves the sweetness of her embrace We all aren't built the same she thinks But she'd let him tap her vein Violets and stars winking in her vision His cold touch finally reaches her Hot skin melting past his reluctant facade It was all a game he whispers To get you closer To make you mine
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Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 3:26 PM UTC
Crazy ***** (with an itch for midnight)
She mirrored the shape of a psychotic ****** Tattooed by hickeys and bruises Written upon the pages of her ******* In lieu of her nightly pearl tuxedo The teeth protruding from her ****** Began hissing and spitting at me The war was far from over
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Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
The ****** Diaries IV
irksome thoughts spin round the moment and they flee to where iv fled to and they tap out strange messages on my head and they gather dust into piles and the piles grow to hills with the passing hours and changing landscapes of the heartstring strings are for kittens to play with chase round and round she lay in the shade of an oak tree by the roadside in the dust hills sipping her long island and watching the road with languid eyes leaf floats down and unattached from the dream she wanders the dust hills wailing for lost loves not her own and berating thouse resposible for every slight ever felt headlights bath the dust hills as eighteen wheelers truck the empire of america ever southward into the cheaply painted tropical sun she is bikini clad and is forever clutching an ice cold drink that eternaly leaves a smile on her forever blemish free smile in the ***** dark dust hills i feel so alone here by her side i want to run away and sleep in a feild with the ****** and the drunkard with the apostles of night
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Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
dust hills
Oh how I do Desire you you luscious vibrant creature Dance with me ! Do not resist ! Our Passion we'll uncover And I the Crone am here to offer Wisdom, Grace and Power Handing you a Magic Key to Honor your own Fire Allow us now to merge in you Relax and see we guide you true Your path is not a righteous hell but sweet Creation~ All is Well
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Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
****** and Crone