i feel like the words i once had have left. evaporated along with the humidity in my breath. sunk down, from the back of my mouth not even to the tips of my fingers, but the soles of my feet, where they descended into the earth. lost forever among the roots and worms, so silent when instead they should have been said out loud or thought so ( Read more... )

it burns. you don't care. you never lost. it was long ago and i whisper. days like these feel like trees set ablaze. towels wrapped in leaves and words written on skin, so lighly only you could ever tell. and that didn't matter. all that mattered was the way your dress swayed and the way your lips were red. the elephants in the desert don't care. ( Read more... )

soms is dit geluk. voor mij. zo'n gedachteloze woordenstroom, omdat het kan, omdat het fijn voelt. omdat ik dit eigenlijk in mijn persoonlijke dagboek moet vouwen want wie de fuck gaat dit lezen? maar ik dat lekker niet doe, gewoon omdat ik dat niet wil.

( stream of consciousness like piece of text )

today.

a thought: some people string words together in the most beautiful of ways.

a song: devotchka - how it ends.

some things i bought: a new pair of ballet tights, a pair of black panties with a ribbon on the back, a cappuccino for justthekeys, strawberry/basil juice, a gift for my dad ( Read more... )

flickering flames and small streams of smoke floating up. twirling up. lips licked and tongues wet by burning liquid. orange glow, yellow glow, human glow. smudges of red on cheektops and collarbones. she smiles and wishes she was nowhere else but here. dirty-blonde curls down her back, fingers travelling down her arm, pausing at her wrist. she ( Read more... )

day 13, according to my calculations, and i like fridays here.

friday is party-day. every friday evening there's a soiree here on the campsite, where everyone piles on long tables and we eat together a meal that's served from here, and afterwards we dance. i like the dancing. i like sitting at a table with all the kids my age, drinking wine and ( Read more... )

my brother imitated me and
( Read more... )

everything looks different in the dark. wind back. lace up. kiss her goodbye or goodnight with your lips in the strands of her hair. the shapes on the ceiling are always yours. he doesn't even see. you do, you always do. they chase you into the darkness into the light into where you can't see into the clouds. so long. gold dust and whispered ( Read more... )

Warm Summer Eyes (That Flicker like Fireflies)
Mr. Ryan Ross centric.
501 words.
A/N: I'm undecided on whether this is fic or not, but i'm just going to treat it like it is.

( A tiny white butterfly flutters through the green, )

it's getting better. i miss writing, i fucking hate that i forgot my big notebook, but. well, i have the little one and i have classes where i can write under the radar, i think. today i wrote this in a couple seconds just to unload:

The boots the Sister had given her were now battered and worn thin, and any of the gold she’d sprayed on them all ( Read more... )