it is the most soothing thing in the world. I can escape for a few minutes or hours even, it all depends on how much I want to write. When I'm stressed I can just sit back and write it out, it's great and cheap therapy lol. Writing is really like escaping into your own world...
my feelings and pieces of me on the paper.
Then sometimes it is as though my imagination gasps and says Oh! Are you really going to write that?
I explore the hidden places in my mind and decide that yes, this is something that I feel or something that sounds interesting.
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...
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...
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...
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. ...
and dreamt I was a feather. A little white feather. Not perfect but small twisted and worn. Still beautiful. Delecate and soft like a fragile snowflake. The wind lifted me up in the sky.
The wind pushes me forward twisting and spinning. I get dizzy. I float for miles...
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,
The son of crimson
Morn' of light
Night of amber
See them dance
See the beauty
But today shan't
Today falls a man
Man of peace
Watch the light
Watch the beauty
Watch the danger
Watch a life
Watch it fade
Watch the sun fade away
Slowly, leaving a fuss
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...
Your mind is clear
Severing your solitude
You hear her
Calling out to you
Lies deep in her eyes
Between her thighs
Absolve the mediocrity
With a pain so deep
Rage becomes need
Your illusions lie...
and I fell deeply in love with it. It's words... It's fine body, it's beautiful illusion that painted a soft colour of a washed out grey. It was dark and yet enticing, it's vibrant smell, it's colourful lair, it's pitiful lines. It felt sorry for me. It gave me a smile, a pretty...
Miss “B” The year was about 1959. I was in high school. I was a very good student in grammar school, but for various reasons I tossed all that and fell down on the job in ninth grade. Puberty and the teen years were very dark periods for me…I was depressed and sad which...
I write silly fan fiction about King Philippe of Belgium, just for my own enjoyment. I can write poems, but usually just when I feel like ****. So it's better if I'm not writing any.
I also use writing to let off steam. Last year I started to keep a diary again, like I used to...
me, i dont longer fear death but times a killer, i see your sunshine i keep trying but it likes in my life its always winter, no purpose makes me think of, all the paths i could have walked, if i could have replace my tears with laugs, or would it all just end the same if i...
Using words to seduce my way in
Into your lungs
On the tip of your tongue
Into your blood
On the shelves of your soul
Where no one else goes
I wish I could find
The way into your mind
You remind me of that perfect line
When the ocean meets the sky...
.. And I can say that I FINALLY GOT TO FINISH MY THIRD CHAPTER TONIGHT!!!
Oh gosh... I spent months on that chapter!! I was ready to give up and delete the story, but many readers cheered me up and motivated me to pursue my dreaaaam of writing stories xD
Yeah, I know...
If enough people respond, I'll post mine. Here goes:
You and your four closest friends are at your favorite restaurant/coffee shop/bar/etc. Someone mentions bands or music. Another says, "I've always wanted to be in a band." They look at you expectantly. What happens now?
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
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
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
happiest girl you can. The most noblest. Now go talk to her, make her feel nice. Envenom her mind with your sweet talk.
Step 2: Now watch her fall in love with you.
Step 3: Now grab her throat. Suffocate her. Take her breath away. Literally. Awaken her love with your game...
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...
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
It was labeled "Free Roses".
Inside that bucket,
There were at least two dozen red roses in seven inches of water.
Their stems ached
And their petals lamented as they wept onto the pavement.
The tears of the flowers flowed fluidly, enslaved by the wind...
waiting for you. I hope you know that I’m doing my best to make you proud. I’m not wasting my heart anymore on guys who don’t look anything like you. I’m not entertaining anyone who doesn’t have a heart like yours. I’ve dried my tears from my past mistakes- from...
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.
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...
but I prefer to work on my own stuff. Sure, fanfiction is a great way to get your ideas out, but why do people take so much pride in it? It's usually nothing original, just a character spinoff or a rewrite of the original.
Take pride in YOUR ideas, not the way you twist someone...
our minds - pillared, upright -
To seek out the stars, to study their light
And learn what it takes to emblaze the night.
Crimson skies cast by fiery moons;
Sensations that will make you swoon.
Our waltz held in its ballroom soon;
Aidenn's Lagoon, Aidenn's Lagoon.
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...
let him go ; let go of her
We can't let go unless we're sure
For something that can dislocate
Something cold to numb the ache
Something to be our next mistake
Something like love lying in wait
Satans got his eyes on me
With marked intent , selfishly
The cross I wear...