Unrequited LoveIt's so hard loving a man such as *yourself. 61 years of pure wisdom. *You still have no idea. At least I don't think *you do. That I love *you. I have since we met and *you called me what I then told *you not to but did it matter? No. I fell anyway. Does it matter still? No. I have fallen for *you. I don't think it ever went away. If *you had asked me to be *yours honey I would have slammed the whiskey bottle on the floor because *you were once an unstable verbal drunk and I... I would have said "Yes." Would have screamed it from the top of my lungs because nobody has a voice that would make a woman quiver like *yours. Or like me. My insides shake and tremble when I heard *your voice. What I feel is not right, I know that but I canNOT help it and I just know that from the pit of my stomach I'm full of thoughts of *you. Purging and throwing up my insides to rid *you of my mind but it doesn't work. *You are still there. *You. Are. Still. There. I. Still. Love. *You. I. Hate. It. I wishUnrequited Love by PossumFan
A Demonic AddictionIt's hard living with a demon in your mind. Even harder when you've known something wasn't right about you, but you couldn't put your finger on it until now. Until he grabs your soul and doesn't let go. Until he makes you collapse on your bedroom floor trying to calm him and yourself down because he's too coked up on porn and making you stick your nasty sinner fingers in yourself to give him what he wants. He doesn't stop there, oh no. Auditory and visual hallucinations almost make his night. What completes it is having you scared out of your mind. Enough to, for that night, think you are honestly going insane. Nobody wants that, wants a demonic companion in their head telling you to look up disgusting ugly filthy degrading things and pleasuring yourself every. Single. Night. When you try to stop he whispers in your ear that you need it. You crave it. You. Are an addict. An addict that the demon in your head loves to fuck with. Loves to scream at you that you're a whore because you doA Demonic Addiction by PossumFan
Smoking And Walking*You were smoking. *You threw it on the ground because *you were finished, and *you walked away. I looked at the cigarette. I looked at *you, walking away. Then I looked down at the cigarette once more. I bent down and I picked it up and put it in my mouth. I then ran to catch up with *you. *You asked, "What are you doing?" I said that I didn't know. We stared hard at each other, then continued to walk. Not saying a single word to each other. Just walking. Destination unknown.Smoking And Walking by PossumFan
Notebook writing 26Dearest *you, *you have become my muse. I know I shouldn't be writing about *you so much, but honey I can't help it. *You've become one of the dearest friends I could have. I love *you. I love *you. For everything *you are. For everything *you have become. I can't thank *you enough for what *you've given me. All I have to offer *you is myself, and if that's not enough, then darling have my heart. It was *yours from the beginning.Notebook writing 26 by PossumFan
self talk in all my strangeness."numb...stay numb."self talk in all my strangeness. by SurrealityScapes
the trampoline has been my closest company,
it knows all of my secrets,
and all three of me spend time on it together.
but of course someone has to start an argument.
and we all start fusing at each other with straight faces, mellow tones,
and then we completely lose our train of thought after awhile...
suddenly the middle of my self flops on her back;
'Hey, look stars...
why are we fighting guys?
when the sky is clear, the breeze is easy.
and when two large cranes just flew right above us?!
nothing is really that bad...it's just all in our heads.
can we just forget about everything else?
things are good, ya know..."
then the one of me
"No...things are not okay, right now! stop saying things are good!
you are just denying everything! "
"but things are good. what are you talking about?"
"No...you are not okay!
"I just wanted to pay attention to the stars, I mean come on...how man
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.Bo. by Silver-cLaw
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
Current Residence: LA... For now...|
Favorite genre of music: Anything Indie (except Indie Rock), Classic Country, Classical
Favorite photographer: None.
Favorite style of art: Literature
Music player of choice: iPod touch
Favorite cartoon character: None.
Personal Quote: You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you. - Ray Bradbury
What I'm here on DA to do: Spill my heart, spill my mind, spill my soul to those willing and able to listen. To make friends. To read, and be read.