Does anyone else here daydream about a story they are writing? I find myself so involved in something I am working on, that I literally walk around with my head in the clouds all day at work, and I can barely wait for the weekend when I can park it in front of my computer...
The taste of your kiss
Our tongues entwined
All of my demons
Submissive to you
Watching you gently
Break me in two
I want to feel your pain
Driving into me
Because I self destruct
I'll play the martyr
Just erase this ache
Kiss me harder
Minutes feel like hours,
Hours feels like days.
When will the time speed up?
Will it ever speed up?
The uncertainty is driving me insane,
I want the seconds to feel like seconds!
The minutes to feel like minutes!
When my eyes are open it's like an unending day,
but the hunger
Coursing through my being
Whispering your name
Til my fever breaks
I'd place my palms flat on the wall
That might sustain me
Shallow breaths filled with agony
The ache for you
To come to me
To satiate , end this pain
away from me,
Then my fingers going on my lips,
Brushing my lips like brushing your lips in between your legs,
I can see you breathing heavily,
I can see your fingers scratching the desk,
I can see how much your body wants,
Let your body relax,
Let it flow...
write a novel. It may turn out to be totally useless, but if it can get me writing again, it's worth it. All these feelings and thoughts need an out before they drive me completely insane. My favorite author says she writes because she can't do anything else. I think I...
I will admit that I am fearful. I am not ashamed of this and I do not regret it... because fear reminds me of my humanity, reminds me of caution, and spares me of my arrogance...
Fear isn't something to ignore, it is merely another obstacle to embrace and overcome.
Date a girl who writes.
Date a girl who may never wear completely clean clothes, because of coffee stains and ink spills. She’ll have many problems with her closet space, and her laptop is never boring because there are so many words, so many worlds that she’s cluttered...
Here's the time
When I'll dance my way to happiness
And so to think, I don't really dance.
I'll sing to the world
Like a wolf howling to the moon
I'll write as if there's no tomorrow
Be the goddess of my own world.
All these, I do.
Because I am sad,
And its kinda...
Your denial, self loathing, it never erases
The events, the experiences, inside you they hide
Consuming your soul
Your True purpose denied
Existing with turmoil, life filled with despair
You keep telling yourself, "this is so unfair"
So follow your instincts and work...
town on the Alberta prairie. The Welcome To and Come Back Soon signs were on the same post. They rolled the sidewalks up promptly at six, noon on Wednesdays. Friday night was late night shopping, the stores stayed open until nine. It was almost a social event. Sundays...
Floating in a dark and cold abis.
Spiralling out of control.
Then you my love found me and I found you.
You are wild and bright
Your fire warms me.
Your strength pulls me.
Your heart gives me life.
My mountains grow.
My rivers flow.
I am every colour of the...
Writing.... I'm the quiet/shy type which is probably why I love to write. I express my feelings through it... when no one else wants to hear me I go straight to my journal. I love how I can just escape the world sometimes.
and cold sweat
Move across my untouched flesh
My bruises are fading
And I'm contemplating
Ways to entangle myself in your web
Cold air in my face and I only taste you
Unfair , but I wait and I crave only you
A sickness of desire
And scenes in my mind
Your touch gets me...
co author our imaginings, but you returned to reality... My muse! I miss you!
You made my insanity plausible.
You were my escape.
You helped me breathe in and out when I didn't exist in the here and now.
But you went back through the looking glass.
We're you ever here with...
I write to get out the demons. Sometimes its painful, sometimes it makes me feel happy. It's nice when some else tells me they can relate. Even if I'm alone in my thoughts, I prefer to move them from pain to paper.
I have written for years, most of my life really. I fill...
I think not.
Do you know your soul?
I know not.
For if We did, we would embrace each others choices, no matter what they may be.
Do you know his heart?
I think not.
Do you know his soul?
I know not.
For if We did, we would honor his masculinity and raise him up in times if...
strange charm of the two love struck souls standing so elegantly at the end of the aisle. Intensity struck right from their cores as they recited the lines of surrender, with a gleaming look of accomplishment appearing in their eyes. They stared at each other with cheeky grins...
Pour salt in the wounds
That still bleed for you
Forget her it's better I don't know the truth
I don't want you
I don't need you
Yes I do
Tell me you're sorry you broke my heart
For the pieces of me you tore apart
Your blind drunk and venomous work of art
.. Since I last felt the sun's warmth? Or even seen it at all? This winter never seemed to end and when I thought it would the news would say more snow was on the way. I feared that this was the end of the world.
The power had been out for 3 weeks now. I was running low on food...
It was a cold New York morning.
You sat me down in that smokey cafe and told me that you didn't like how I had become corrupted by the world of speakeasy joints and female independence. I heard your father's words in your commanding voice.
Of course I agreed with...
that pushes me around. I go through periods where everything seems poetic and I want to capture that moment and paint it into existence.
I started writing erotic stories a while back and I love it. Love to sketch a woman's desires. I try to write with passion and sincerity...
cage on my heart
Beneath my breast
Piercing my ribs with every breath
I'm left and dead set on what I regret
You deny my pain like I'll suffer less
Drive me insane and tore off my dress
To spill the words I couldn't say
They dance on my tongue
Like birds of prey...
but not for no reason. I cant just sit down and write. There has to be a reason. I love sending letters. I know its super outdated but I do feel like when you live far from someone it gives you nice piece of real memorabilia but I've never even met someone really that wanted to...
though I'm beautiful
Even though my souls for sale
My dark skin slowly going pale
The rush of my blood going stale
I can rise like a Phoenix
From ashes to freedom
A goddess like Venus
But you'll never see this
I am merely a formality
Abstract from your reality
I haven't gone to school for it, I haven't really let anyone know until now. My best friend doesn't know, my parents don't know. I hate people reading what I write. It is like a phobia of mine. I don't even like reading what I write. Currently, my story is 247 pages long. Yeah...
would that make it easier or harder? Would we prepare for what's coming, or would we just run?
We all get this feeling, this moment of regret, fear and sadness. This moment can either last for a minute or a lifetime. We promise ourselves that we are going to change, that we...
they see me as shy, dumb and invisible. But that's not me, to be honest no one really knows who I am, people think they know what I am thinking and what I would do in most situations, and most of the time they are wrong. I'm at that horible age when your not sure what the future...
I can't keep up
I can see you there in the distance
Wait for me!
My legs are moving but I seem to be going so slow
Do you hear me calling your name?
The mist is enveloping
I can't see my hands
Your form is disappearing
I think you've gone too far ahead
I am lost
I am alone
I started writing on a daily basis when I was a freshman in High School. I had a teacher that was also a professor at a well known university. He loved creative writing and journaling. His love of the written word soon was instilled in me. ...
so I can indulge,
The desire of what man calls lust,
Just one touch,
I long for it all,
The whispers calling me fed up with the pain,
No one can insulate my desires because I strive for the most,
Call me sick but that I am not,
Ill I am diseased...
I am working on a couple of novels, they come from the brain and require discipline. I write erotica which id born out of passion and comes from your soul. But poetry comes from the heart and is born out of pain and despair. You will seldom meet a happy poet. Especially right...
writing different stories about my life, thoughts, and fantasies besides sex. As a woman today, I still enjoy writing when I have time to do so. I have not had anything published but maybe some day I will we a published author.
I'm scared that if I write based on songs by Vocaloids , I'll be accused of plagiarism, even though I'm not writing a song, and I'm not using the same exact characters. I want to write, but at the same time, I'm losing interest in writing, because I have so few ideas.