| it must be the moon thats making me crazy, but i swear you're made of magic. |
| it must be the moon thats making me crazy, but i swear you're made of magic. |


rinse, and repeat.you trip, you fall, you falter, your vocabulary mysteriously reduces to only basic english.rinse, and repeat.
you run, (away) you come, (running back) you wait, you watch as he touches her, and you see satisfaction dripping from her lips.
you hate, you lie, you burn,
but it was you who set yourself on fire, don't-
you lose your will, you lose him, you lose memory.
you fade, he fades, life returns;
he returns.
like reverse-peristalsis it comes bubbling back up your throat.


the cold.its the kind of cold that makes you shiver.the cold.
the movement is momentary, but the feeling stays; its locked in your bones and
its the type of cold that
will freeze you to the
core.
you fight it by sending fire down your throat, but the whiskey only drowns your soul.
you fight it with friction, bodies, bodies. but then the guilt will burn you alive.
you can run, but not forever. when you sleep and dream of her, the memories will take you piece by piece; too late, you wonder where you misplaced your will to live.


red bull gives you wings.the thought of you makes my shoulder-blades itch- at the sound of your voice i'm sprouting wings, and that breath on your lips is about to unlock me; breathe, i can taste the air too, i want to know what its like to fly without the safety net.red bull gives you wings.


happily ever afters."wait for me", he asked; fingers crossed behind her back, she said: "forever."happily ever afters.


you're my hemoglobin.there's something weighing down my diaphragm. because now, each heartthrob-inducing breath i take reminds me of you- i'm keeping you prisoner inside my left/right ventricles; and you can only escape through aortas and pulmonary veins. now you live in my blood stream and there's no getting rid of you: drain me if you want but i've tried and you come seeping back in every time, you can inject me with all the antidote you want- my nuisance-immune system wont accept the cure to you because maybe its only you thats keeping me alive.you're my hemoglobin.


achromatopsiai.achromatopsia
'technicolor' isn't a real shade so stop calling it your favorite especially since these days
all i see are inbetweens
i've got this brand of blindness that doesn't let me drown in the blue of your eyes or taste the honey-coated golden of your skin
all i see is grey.
[and you never were beautiful in black and white.]
ii.
you like to talk in what-ifs and maybes with oversaturated swirls of indifference but you don't seem to get that it's those things i'm missing with my eyes slowly falling into these patterns


but what if I touch your heartfound a note from the past: dear self, I dare you to love him I dare you to say it. I dare you to mean it. love always, the alive half.but what if I touch your heart
do you remember? "it's okay, it's okay, I promise I'll never hurt you," soft fingers persuading chins, smiles that say too much, adorable lips pulled into beautiful half-grins.
it's too late, it's too late now. "it's not me Im worried about." fractured breaths, broken glances, soaked eyelashes, truths I'll never believe and futures I'll never see.


make-believewhen she was seven she decided that her wedding bouquet would consist of a magnolia bush and basil, with a canary-yellow ribbon encircling the stems. her white dress would have pink polka dots on the underside [like when she flipped over that poor dead turtle she found on the road and its belly wasnt the same color as its shell] she wanted to ride down the aisle on her fading red tricycle and she just hoped her legs wouldnt grow to much more, otherwise they wouldnt fit by the time she got married and shed have to find a bigger bike.make-believe
*
all she ever really wanted when she fell asleep at night w


hold your breath, listen.hold your breath, listen.
i.
like dancing in the moonlight. or kissing in the rain. or singing loudly in your backyard. or falling asleep in his lap.
and all the other things that are good in the world. [well so i've been told. because i've never done any of those things.]
ii.
how are you feeling? fine.
how's school? fine.
how's dancing? fine.
how's life? fine.
fine, n. see: most used word in katharine's vocabulary.
and i must be a good liar,
because i'm most definitely not fin
for you lazy people, the bold is the important stuff. The name's Vicky 14 years young. i generally fail at life, the only reason im not at rock bottom is because of these amazing things i call my friends. i rely on people more than i'd be willing to admit, but it seems i carry other peoples burdens better than i carry my own. im a spaz mostly, and i will laugh for hours at a time at the littlest things. so get used to the retarded cackling/hyena sounds/gasping noises cause thats what you'll be hearing most of the time you're around me. i write, and will steal your camera to take artsy pictures. so watch out ;D talk to me i like my music. nevershoutnevermaydayparadethespillcanva sthealmostbonivermissyhigginsjasonmrazjo hnmayerdashboardconfessionalgetawayplanj eremyashida |
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haiku addict
has a tendency to run off and take artsy pictures.
check me out?
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*helping-the-unknown wants to promote new and little-known deviants.
Visit *helping-the-unknown for more information!
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-Post production artist for : beauty, fashion, editorial and advertising. Published in international magazines and working on worldwide campaigns.
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haiku addict
has a tendency to run off and take artsy pictures.
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