(no subject)
can i just stitch my mouth with acid flavored strings
so my secret wishes wont be cause for public humiliation?
I'm. Sorry. Ive never been good with holding my tongue
when I definitely should, especially when im not being
obvious enough already. Can you catch my glimpses,
*cough* stares in the not to corner of my eye- I'm looking
for more excuses to blush, apparently. Just somebody
fucking slap me, let the sting leave tomato marks
where my makeup use to be because no form of hiding
will suffice; my soul is always my bodys nude paint coverings,
only cause for question NEVER reason to guess...why cant
I act as mature as I feel your making me stutter and I dont
know how to get you. Just tell me what you want so I can stop
talking- babbling like a preteen in unfamiliar heat not knowing
how to handle this inappropriate longing you inspire with your
poetry and nonchalance. You dont scare me even better,
I SCARE YOU. I call it immaturity some call it, well, embarrassing.
Where’s the damn muzzle? Someone chain her thoughts before
they are voiced aloud and we all fidget in our stage seats. I could
if you tell me how to win you, though quite unfairly I am not free
to be conquered, just yet. But i can say its not just your drinks
speaking, that maybe, you just may like me, and with that
insignificant challenge my suave conversation morphs to
slippery one-liners of plain eye-rolling worthy sputterings
of a nineteen something crush on a master who eats spawns
of talent, myself, for appetizers though I only want to push this
unsealed envelope of my infatuation a little further until YOU
have to PUSH me away. This isn’t really me im just willing to say
and stupid things that takes up all space inside my mouth in the
off chance that you were thinking it too. Trouble is what you are
and dangerous is more than willing to push societies brow up a
notch, or two. None of this is justified and i always do it like this.
Dance in backward circles because negative attention still requires
sight and its your eyes I want. Whats worse, when I crawl naked
beneath sheets bought not by myself your hands will be miles
from touch though on this white night I wont even shiver. I may be
Gambling with too many hearts in the hope that one will match mine;
can someone appreciate my plain wishes of a sonnet star lover am I
speaking too much? I don't even know you just the random times our
words layer upon one another thoughts is case for this desecration
of once glowing notebook paper, ruined by my everything- My poor
attempts at exaplining these words while almost praying I'm not to
frank. But heres my chance to make it clear: i CANT STOP THIS.
my pen eventually will retire, folks, I swear, but this train of inspiration
will continue to focus upon you, unaware, the sole passenger, And me,
the gagged and tied driver. Its the only way I can trust myself. You
probably drove off tonight, head shaking, fingers rounding the dial
radio knobs until the blues (im assuming) drowned out my ridiculous
flirtatious mutterings, thrown off mark though always in your direction.
so my secret wishes wont be cause for public humiliation?
I'm. Sorry. Ive never been good with holding my tongue
when I definitely should, especially when im not being
obvious enough already. Can you catch my glimpses,
*cough* stares in the not to corner of my eye- I'm looking
for more excuses to blush, apparently. Just somebody
fucking slap me, let the sting leave tomato marks
where my makeup use to be because no form of hiding
will suffice; my soul is always my bodys nude paint coverings,
only cause for question NEVER reason to guess...why cant
I act as mature as I feel your making me stutter and I dont
know how to get you. Just tell me what you want so I can stop
talking- babbling like a preteen in unfamiliar heat not knowing
how to handle this inappropriate longing you inspire with your
poetry and nonchalance. You dont scare me even better,
I SCARE YOU. I call it immaturity some call it, well, embarrassing.
Where’s the damn muzzle? Someone chain her thoughts before
they are voiced aloud and we all fidget in our stage seats. I could
if you tell me how to win you, though quite unfairly I am not free
to be conquered, just yet. But i can say its not just your drinks
speaking, that maybe, you just may like me, and with that
insignificant challenge my suave conversation morphs to
slippery one-liners of plain eye-rolling worthy sputterings
of a nineteen something crush on a master who eats spawns
of talent, myself, for appetizers though I only want to push this
unsealed envelope of my infatuation a little further until YOU
have to PUSH me away. This isn’t really me im just willing to say
and stupid things that takes up all space inside my mouth in the
off chance that you were thinking it too. Trouble is what you are
and dangerous is more than willing to push societies brow up a
notch, or two. None of this is justified and i always do it like this.
Dance in backward circles because negative attention still requires
sight and its your eyes I want. Whats worse, when I crawl naked
beneath sheets bought not by myself your hands will be miles
from touch though on this white night I wont even shiver. I may be
Gambling with too many hearts in the hope that one will match mine;
can someone appreciate my plain wishes of a sonnet star lover am I
speaking too much? I don't even know you just the random times our
words layer upon one another thoughts is case for this desecration
of once glowing notebook paper, ruined by my everything- My poor
attempts at exaplining these words while almost praying I'm not to
frank. But heres my chance to make it clear: i CANT STOP THIS.
my pen eventually will retire, folks, I swear, but this train of inspiration
will continue to focus upon you, unaware, the sole passenger, And me,
the gagged and tied driver. Its the only way I can trust myself. You
probably drove off tonight, head shaking, fingers rounding the dial
radio knobs until the blues (im assuming) drowned out my ridiculous
flirtatious mutterings, thrown off mark though always in your direction.