| kso, Photography is just a hobby of mine (: im just one who likes to take pictures as a hobby because i love seeing beauty in things  One day i might get enough skill to write or draw, but for now i'm just going to share my pictures. Hope you enjoy them (: |
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missing.His touch feels so soft and warm against my cold feeling skin. So gentle, but yet firm; not in a barbaric or aggressive way, but in a way that is expressed through his words that he whispers. ‘Don’t leave’, I hear sounded softly in my ears followed with his gentle but firm grip. I feel his weak arms flex around me, not wanting let go. I don’t him to let go either. I miss the feeling of his touch and the feeling of never letting go.missing.
His gaze has never looked so hurt; in so much agony, filled with such heartache. He doesn’t need to speak, tel
by ~sydneyjaay
vinylby ~sydneyjaay
Favourites
you don't know -collab-1. the pale on your face got washed off in the rain today and for once, you looked human.you don't know -collab-
there was colour in your cheeks and a brightness in your eyes that i've never seen before. no more was there a frown plastered on that face of yours. there was something different about you.
2. in these lucid raindrops your tainted tears are hidden.
you don't know, but i noticed you had wiped them away leaving trails on your cheekbones with the dirt from underneath your fingernails. i wondered to myself why you cried, but i guess its because you never real
by *xxintention
generic, petite, combustingIt is almost like worms crawling through your veins, arteries, capillaries, stomach, and heart. Except, it's the mutant flesh eating maggot kind.generic, petite, combusting
A poisonous betrayal burrowing its truth inside of my physical body.
The venom sticking to my nerve endings and exquisitely fuming from my sweat glands. Your words and your actions just wring out my brain, or my heart, like a wet face cloth.
They twist me and contort me and I just can't process it. It hurts. It bleeds. It catches on fire.
It combusts into oblivion.
by ~malalalell
i may be a mess.her eyes are like murky hurricanes and her summers are filled with messages in bottles. her lips are quite like porcelain and her finger tips have gruesome memories. maybe her skin is tearing off and her feet seem to bleed when she steps awkwardly around your piercing words.i may be a mess.
maybe stars just don't shine as bright as she does; although if you tell her that she might not believe you. she'll just say your a silly little child with no real sense of direction because you took the wrong path and found the wrong broken angel - you found the wrong star.
she strums an A chord, but it's a foul sound - you know the one. the one
by *xxintention
deviantID
& i'll be anything you ask and more,.
LazyDevious Info
- Current Residence: your closet.
- Favourite band or musician: Changes everyday, todays fav? Silverstein :P
- Favourite genre of music: Electro-rap, Techno, Electronica, Metal, and everything inbetween (:
- MP3 player of choice: ipod ftw bb.
- Favourite game: probably guitar hero B)
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pleasepleaseplease continue to put a smile on my face.
(:
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please ignore my blushing cheeks -my ears are redder.
i am a poetry admin for *project-improve. note me if you have any feature suggestions!
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all we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us.
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and i've tried hard to prove that i am strong.
julia nunes
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all we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us.
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all we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us.
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all we have to decide is what to do with the time given to us.
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"W zdominowanym przez obrazy, przyspieszonym wizualnie świecie, zniknięcie jest ostatecznym rozwiązaniem."
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If you were going to die, and had last phone call to make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?
- Stephen Levine
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