theaters, I saw it. I then went home and wrote about it. I tried writing as an entertained fan but whenever I write about movies and TV shows, it brings out the writer in me. Here is what I wrote about my favorite dance movie of all time Step Up.
Step Up is an amazing movie...
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
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
that is my life
I was born with challenges and a sensitive heart
I carry on though whether I get roses or darts
I go the extra step with every breath I take
I talk to my friends with every move I make
People stop and stare and wonder at me
People give my heart a reason to go...
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. ...
trying to mentally unwind
I reaped someone's mean oats as he wanted them to be mine
I don't deal with stress how most people do
I must pass this test for it is my daily refreshing dew
He roams EP land and gave no time to waste
Ain't that grand? I wait for my smile to return to...
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.
her vulnerable heart and her exposed mindAnd as she stepped into his safety and rested her head overhis heart and she found the blissfull comfort,she heard the steady rhythmic beating of his heartand it was then that she knew....She closed her eyes and whispered“Please don...
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...
when I was sad. I didn't have the guts to send it. But I am posting it now.
I miss you
I need you
Please don't go away
I need you to know
If you should go
I'm not okay
I need the dawn of a new day
You were my friend
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
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...
or 13, I fancied myself a songwriter. The result was a lot of not so great poetry about love. New love, lost love, I wrote it all. Do you remember how much you knew about love at that age? Then again, everything is so dramatic and important as a teenager, maybe that is the...
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...
Feels like she desires me
Not in that sexual, lustful ..way
She admires me... Intrigued
to learn more..
She surprises me,
I surprises her
I'm like a Chemistry project,
Plus our Chemistry
is like a
mathematically algebraic equation
We've yet to...
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,
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...
You pay attention to what's reaping cause it's worth knowing
What do you do when hate sends a gift
You hold on to love so you don't go adrift
What do you do when your light goes out
You find a reason to dance, maybe even scream and shout
What do you do when your body...
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...
one can always see,
tractors as unique as you and me.
Looking upoon them,
i don't see rust,
or a lumbering road block.
I see long hot days,
see the pride in the young farmers eyes,
as he and his wife,
look on in thanks to god at their yield...
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
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...
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...
hours of this day, remembering her sweet name
Haunting me with this memory of what it should be,
Yet I'm here now the ghost of loves past standing still upon this path
seeking her hand..
waiting for her imbrace beyond this space beyond the distance and beyond the prision...
to blanket the bedside window
whenever sirens came by.
And shielded me with her bone-
shielded my ears from the sound of gunshots
and breaking glass.
Morning's cape of old nightmares
found her wide eyed on the
spring struck mattress,
white powder scattered from...
like anger, sadness, love pain, whatever, I don't take a walk outside, or take deep breaths and count to 10. I write.
I usually would write a song. Take out my phone or paper and a pen and write something, that usually being a song. If you go into the notes section of my phone...
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
I am planning for it to be a series. Let me know what you guys think, and if you want to see more :D ! http://www.wattpad.com/story/32273720
*PLEASE TAKE NOTICE, THERE IS STRONG LANGUAGE USED IN THIS STORY. SOME VIEWERS MAY BE OFFENDED. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.*
Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder made that much easier. At first, I thought it was this awesome little secret I had. It wasn't until I realized that it destroyed my social life and family time that I knew it wasn't as good as I thought it was. I think at one time I thought about...
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...
A spinning compass
A shredded map
Your fingertips across my lips
Tiny little slivers
With the shards left from words
That I spoke in reverse
Mixed anger with hurt
And you tasted it first
Open my mouth and the devil comes out
I find peace of mind in penning down my emotions through a fictional character's point of view. I see writing as an outlet, a stress reliever and a haven. When I write about my tensions, I have the ability to leisurely think a situation through and deduce an effective way of...
alone. It exists untouched, unhindered and unquantifiable. It is to state that there is infinite possibility set to a finite time, at which point it meets the now. And in that crossing, in that time, we can find blinding and uncertain a world for one to grasp. And so I want to...
You don’t know me...but you want to be with me. If you only had the guts to be real about yourself then you would admit your desires for me.
You need “a girl like me.” So you can point your finger and say…”That’s the bad one. The *#itch that can’t be trusted to...
dreaming of me,
as i often dream of her.
When i'm awake,
i see the life,
that will one day be.
A field of green,
children at play,
oh what a glorious and wonderful day.
To wake up,
and not be alone,
to have someone to hold,
offering it and sharing it with you
There is love, there is kindness
There is joy and there is color blindness
There is compassion and there is tenderness
There is sweetness even in the blender mess
There are many layers
There are many colors
There are many naysayers
makes life more precious.
Fragile objects are valued more, because we know how easily they may be taken from us.
Having experienced the total loss of happiness
Gives me more incentive to love life
Sometimes we fear the things we shouldn't fear
It comes unexpectedly, in all...
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...