January 2011
napoleonbonerparte:
This Year - the Mountain...
awkward, but since my dad is feeling ill, and my sister and mum are out of town, my sister’s boyfriend is coming over, and we’re going to drink beers and ignore new years eve. awkward. but he’s a great guy.
An Old Notebook Entry
whatchyamacallit:
With a small click The tube of paper Lit up with life And as I inhaled You came to realize I am no longer Interested (I blow the smoke out in a stream) In saving Your life.
: I’ll wash and you’ll dry and the night will come... →
sunshinelullabies:
I’ll wash and you’ll dry and the night will come and go by the time we finish cleaning up the giant mess we made of everything, but I swear I’ll put my heart and soul into it like I used to put all of myself into us. And so through forced teamwork, we’ll glue back the broken pieces of ourselves…
December 2010
literarycollective:
Sometimes it takes me a minute to remember where I am, to remember that I wore these clothes yesterday and should comb my hair. It often takes sorting through my pants pockets to remember the details, and it takes days to feel better about my decisions.
get a grip. he’s just a man. (but he’s not just a man. he’s tall and sweet and funny and rough and soft and had these surprised eyes that make me want to surprise him every moment of every day and he embarrasses me but i don’t mind, he’s loud yet somehow charming, he’s a gentlemen, he’s smooth and he drink tea and reads plays)
you’re a rock, i’m a ghost. i’d be okay to stay if you could hold me, but we both know you have no way to do so
slender fingers wrist arm shoulder neck (he worshiped that neck: holding up the weight of all her hair and thoughts, of every word she ever wrote, or thought to. how in it all her life flowed. her words given voice- down the brain stem, spinal cord, shoulder arm wrist ...
justanotherwannabeclassic asked: You already know me, but I'm in a rather talkative mood brought on by too much caffeine and the giggly-ness of sweet romance -- but I won't bore you with those details.
So now I ask: Are you having an enjoyable break? Excited for New Years? Any big plans?
So now I ask: Are you having an enjoyable break? Excited for New Years? Any big plans?
justanotherwannabeclassic asked: You already know me, but I'm in a rather talkative mood brought on by too much caffeine and the giggly-ness of sweet romance -- but I won't bore you with those details.
So now I ask: Are you having an enjoyable break? Excited for New Years? Any big plans?
So now I ask: Are you having an enjoyable break? Excited for New Years? Any big plans?
i’ve introduced myself, now it’s your turn.
hello new followers
I’m Little Bird, or Birdie. I like tea, and books. It’s been noted that I never walk, only run, glide, prance, saunter, skip, and strut. I collect words, such as orb, shanghais, and irrefutable. I fall in love with the strangest and smallest of moments (whenever a man holds the door for me, or offers me a light. when i take shelter from the ran, and i meet someone else who is stranded)
playingtheboard asked: OH SHIT YOU DID NOT! Have you heard Shicksa Goddess from the Last 5 Years? THAT IS MY JAM! =)
playingtheboard asked: OH SHIT YOU DID NOT! Have you heard Shicksa Goddess from the Last 5 Years? THAT IS MY JAM! =)
she woke up and pushed the blankets off with her feet, and pulled the pillow closer. her mouth tasted like last nights mistakes, and her eyes were glued shut. she didn’t want to put the clean laundry away. she didn’t want to do the dishes. didn’t want to move ever again three hours later, she got out of bed, pulling on jeans, but ignoring the rest of her clothes. she found some...
maybe there’s somewhere, a lesson to learn but i’m still hurting
to add to my most recent post
i also really am not one to talk, considering they are at least writing, while i just sit here hitting the reblog button and telling myself to write. tomorrow guys, i promise both you, and myself, that i will write. also, i am seeing him tomorrow. 14 hours. Obviously, no matter what happens, i will have plenty to say afterward. wish me luck.
i hate when people who can't write at all think...
like those people who write short stories that are so contrived and done to death and unoriginal that you want to bash your head against the wall? and somehow they got it into their heads that they are the greatest thing ever, and start comparing themselves to Dario Argento and I just want to scream. But then i get worried that maybe i hate these people so much because deep deep down, i am afraid...
literarycollective:
Night turns me into an unproductive weepy mess, lonelier than usual
literarycollective asked: Getting rid of alcohol is the worst kind of alcohol abuse.
You should drink it instead. Works every time.
You should drink it instead. Works every time.
literarycollective asked: Getting rid of alcohol is the worst kind of alcohol abuse.
You should drink it instead. Works every time.
You should drink it instead. Works every time.
1 tag
my cat just pushed my leg over so he could stretch...
There once was a very lovely, very frightened girl. She lived alone except for a nameless cat.
When I go to the clubs
I change my name. Once I was Lolita Haze. Once I was Amelie Poulain. Next time, I will be Holly Golightly. Literary and old movie names. If a man ever catches on, I will take him seriously. It’s yet to happen.
fingers hovering over the keys, almost vibrating, from the need to start typing, to say something, anything. to write something that will make her feel weightless and as if she accomplished something. to write something that will not just make people understand or know, but feel. she closed the lid of her laptop, and went outside for a smoke, willing the words to come soon.
So, don’t look for me in confession booths I’m with my paints, and my pens, and my dry vermouth Trying to uncover some small truth With these cards close to my chest -sarah slean
looking for a man: who speaks his mind. who holds open doors, not just for me, but for other people too. who will wake me up sweetly who will dominate me in bed who is a romantic at heart, and not afraid to show it who doesn’t always want to talk about his feelings who enjoys silence who will understand when i need to write, and will just make me some coffee, kiss the top of my head, and be...
why i love smoking at the bar:
pull one out, and someone is lighting it for you before you can blink. (also why I love smoking with gentlemen like Jay, Tom, Jordan, etc)
sometimes you want to tell the world, but other times you’re afraid it won’t get rid of the poison, just spread it.
3 tags
she feels her whole ribcage moving as he draws nearer and nearer, his shadow reaching her first. she wanted to reach up and touch his face, to bring herself up level to his eyes his nose his lips. she wants to lick that tempting line where his lips join together. she wants to savor the stubble on his cheek, that she is sure he left there for her, for that comment she made in the summer of...
your words still serenade me your lullabies wont let me sleep ive never heard such a haunting melody oh it’s killing me you know, i can barely breathe.
literarycollective:
please excuse me as I give not a single shit about your opinion, no really I’ll be right back, just go ahead and keep talking okay?
she smiles as she looks at the calendar, knowing that before too long she’ll be in his arms, where she belongs. playing with her nails, she muses over the implications of the coming week. what words must be said, what actions must be taken. the ground they are about to cross is covered with a thick fog. neither know what they may trip over. she nibbles on her lip, then stops. she...
songbirds:
commence post-christmas lazing, now with a multitude of embarrassing pajama sets and a boatload of warm and snuggly but ultimately super gay sentiments that will never ever be acted on
