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[poo]

Is there an artistic thing you've personally done and would like to share, anonymously?
This means pieces you've written, poems you have churned out, photographs you have captured, paintings you have drawn, comics you have rendered, etc.

Comments

[anonymous]

Its probably too long to post in a comment and I don't want to link it for fear of being found out from the site its on =/

[poo]

Do it in parts?

ok here goes

[anonymous]

How can you go six years of your life, blind to the fact that you love someone, until it’s too late? That’s what happened to me. Well, not like I could do a whole lot about my feelings for him at eleven years old, except...tell him

Re: ok here goes

[anonymous]

The next day, when we received our report cards was the final time I would ever stand with him in a school room. Sixth grade promotion was indeed, the sadest day of school. I knew I wouldn’t see these people anymore since I moved. I got a lot of great pictures of Nathan from that night. These are pictures that I hold dear to my hear to this day, five years later

[anonymous]

i'll post a poem i've written but i'm not going to be the first

[anonymous]

Give me a second

[anonymous]

I’m sitting back my eyes stinging tranquil
You caution me to take out the needles and I will

Twist the fingers around my hair
Chest cold as ice and we don’t care
Lock you out in winter
Scratching the door I wouldn’t dare

Winters out and summers in
Sneak you back in
Crawl back with bed sheets made of bugs
Shackle the hearts and forgive

Winter come and out again
I really do love you my friends
Scratch the door and
Scratch the door and the cold has set in

[anonymous]

This beautiful and touching.

[anonymous]

lol, archaic inversions.

[anonymous]

I lay my head in your lap
while your fingers run gingerly through my hair.

It seems as though my bitterness has gone.
Seasons have changed
and I've almost forgotten the pain.

I am free to bask there and think
about inconsequential things.

The way rays of sunlight pirouette on the carpet
like tiny dancers, lazy and drunk.
And how I want apple scented dish soap
to make the task smell better,
since I'm incapable of making it more interesting.

When I sometimes talk
you sometimes chuckle
at my silliness, my strangeness,
and the ways I'm betrayed by my femininity.

Still, your strong hands
continue to touch me lightly,
weaving through my hair.
Intertwining the shreds of my soul
in to a brilliant tapestry

even if it is a bit worse for the wear.

[anonymous]

The inside of my mouth
tastes like too many pennies.
Sucked on, their copper
rubbing off
on my tongue.
Cold.
It tastes fucking cold.

I've been made aware recently
of fissures in the design of my fate.
Or at least
that's how I perceive the betrayal
and the denial.
It's better that way

than to accept that I was just a surface
to ricochet off of
on the way to your bliss.

I wonder what you'll do
when you learn
that you're just the same now.
A wall.
A brick.
A metal sheet.
A copper penny...
to ricochet off of.

I wonder what you'll do
when she's left you dented
and full of little stinging holes...

[anonymous]

Your form
Descending
Upon me

I am helpless
Prey

I surrender
Needing
You

Your sweet kisses
Cover my flesh
Your tongue leaving
Trails of honey

Gripping
Pulling you deeper
Into myself
Tasting myself
On your lips

Your hair in my eyes
Fluttering
Sweeping away tears

Building
To
Insanity

In your arms
I melt

We are molding to one
Another
Needing nothing more

Shaking
Fearing
Wanting
Feeling

I can't figure out
What to bleed out
On this paper
When all I can think of
Is the memory
Of your touch
That never happened

The lips
I never tasted
And the flesh I crave to
Contain

You are lust
You are wanting
You are desire

But
You are not mine

[anonymous]

The line of your back flickers and waves in candlelight.
A funeral pyre, our bed.
We burn here, and fold like ash.
Your body, next to mine.
I can't believe that it,
we,
have been reduced to this.
Hot white smoke that tastes like a thousand
dying chemicals floods our lungs in turn,
and we roll here, fall here, drown here,
in each other.
You were the salvation that I had always asked for.
Someone to make all my decisions.
Someone to feed me full of anything other than
reality.
You hold me close,
even now,
when I've asked you to stop,
but you won't stop.
You don't stop.
I don't know if you even can.
It's cold here.
Among the flames, amidst the chemical fed passion,
it's cold here.

[anonymous]

[anonymous]

I am of the opinion that nothing you write it ever shitty. It is an extension of yourself; love it, embrace it.

[jen93552]

that is quite awesome & the image fits it well.