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jugendliche.i.) die Bekennende
Du bist meine Liebe, meine Engel in der Nacht.
Die Sonne scheint so hell fuer uns, du kuesst mich und sagt,
"Kannst du bitte halt mein Hand?"
Ich kuesse dich, weil ich weiss ich kann.
Ich hoffe, du weisst, du bist wirklich schoen.
Alles, ich kann sagen ist "ich brauche dich so gern."
Meine Liebe fuer dich ist sehr gross, ich bitte zu sein.
Immer Ihren Liebling, damit du mein sein.
ii.) die Sehnsucht
Sie ist so viel staerker als ich.
Sie leuchtet den Raum und ich fuehle mich
Als wuerde ich tiefer fallen in der Liebe.
Ich denke, das sind Liebhaber oder Taschendiebe?
Aber sie ist so anders, so perfekt und Art ist.
Es scheint, sie fühlt sich nicht Zwist.
Ich will nur ihre Hand zu Halten,
Aber das ist nicht etwas, was ich ganz einfach verwalten.
Sie hat eine andere, obwohl sie liebt mich mehr
Und ich weiss, ich liebe sie ebensosehr.
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1chapter four
“is astrid your girlfriend?” keillan asked me unexpectedly at our breakfast. i nearly choked on my chocolate milk.
“what the heck, kiddo?” i tried to laugh but it just came out really uncomfortable sounding. “of course she isn’t.”
“well, was she?” his insight never ceased to amaze me. his eyes were large and intent, as if he’d thought about this for a long time.
“what even would make you think that, keillan?” i appeared composed. it was still way too soon for me to answer questions about astrid. “you’ve known me your whole life. that’s the most peculiar thing to ever come out of your mouth.” i was avoiding eye contact. keillan’s got this way of making you feel totally at ease with even the most uncomfortable of topics. i guess it’s a good trait to have.
“okay, you guys are always talking about
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1Chapter Three
The only person that was at home when I arrived back was my sister Brinley, a spoiled fifteen-year-old with a penchant for making my life miserable. She was lying on the sofa Daisy Buchanan-style, sprawled lazily reading a fashion magazine.
“You’re home late,” she grumbled, not even having the decency to lift her eyes from the gossip column. “How was your drunken rave last night?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, a smirk on her lips. She genuinely repulsed me.
“You didn’t,” I spat gruffly in her direction, wide-eyes full of anger. “You did not see anything.” I was terrified, not that she had seen, but that she had shown our parents.
“Au contraire, my dear sister,” she chuckled nonchalantly. “I especially liked the one of you smashing a beer bottle into Mrs. McCartney’s heirloom china vase.”
“Brin, you wouldn’t dare,
fresh.don't look at me.
every time you do i see her.
you look just like her, but
shorter thinner sweeter
younger. you are so much younger.
you're nowhere near as naive.
innocent is not in your expansive
vocabulary. your voice is both
agonizing and intoxicating.
we used to lie next to each
other, hold hands and harmonize.
you held me when i cried
and laughed at my cheesy jokes.
now you have gone. you don't
even speak to me, no choral context.
but you look at me. and you smile.
and you make me feel so fresh,
don't ever leave my side.
a memoir of a butterfly.her memory is like a dead mockingbird.
something so beautiful, but remnants
scatter in the wind, unable to
comprehend whether it was deserved
perishing or a mistake.
will you remember in twenty
years, or twenty months, twenty
goddamn seconds, or will she
fade like the fluttering feathers
of the bird shot down in anguish?
can you kiss yourself goodnight
because her butterflies will never
again land on your fleshy lips?
laugh to keep from crying, cry
to keep for being numb,
pretending her presence was
that of a ghost inside a dream.
cover your wrists in gauze and
guilt to prevent moral infection,
feign disinterest when she bites
her lips, don't crave to be the
one biting back, because you'll
only be chewing yourself out.
don't look directly at her, she
is a sapphic eclipse, tease
me with your sloping neck,
tease me with your impeccable
jawline, hazel eyes and
crooked nose, a sweet breathiness
achieved by her trembling,
raspy alto, how i want to
press my mouth to hers and utter
the cure for romantic epilepsy is you.lighthearted heartthrobs
leave me tenderhearted for
the moment, callously discarded
when the brokenhearted relapses
occur and my heartache is just
a simple subtraction amongst
the breakage and blood pumping.
can you heal me? can you heal you?
do you know how to divide me
into the good, the bad, and the
parts that get too clingy?
can you tell me what it is
that keeps you clinging?
your body is like a metronome,
and i just want to move
to your tempo, you envelope
me with your beautiful
lyricism and lips like a rose.
hands hold like roping soliloquies
of the what-ifs and what-nows,
they're clenching like we're
on a roller coaster and i just
want to hold on to you, if
i could kiss you would i be
considered lucky or a casualty?
i want to peruse the inky pages
of your loitered soul, picking
up the pieces because something
as beautiful as you doesn't
deserve to be littered.
all i want you to do is stand
near me, not even next to me,
because the glow of your glower
is gorgeous even in your mos
drowned.this ice is getting thinner
and i keep feeling like i'm
about to fall through. i just
wanted you to envelope me in
your harmony, sweet kisses
making the syncopation
between broken glass and
heart pieces, shattered
with lips uttering breathlessly.
i wanted to be warmed by
the sound of your melodies,
you told me of my beauties
and i believed you, remember
that my soul is fragile and
that suicide and silence
start and end the same way.
keep in mind when you told
me how much you cared and
how much i hope you realized
at this point the water is
freezing and i can't swim.
love like remission.everybody says that
i'm a specific type. i
think that's just an
excuse to say there's
really no chance i can
ever be loved. keep saying
that i'm beautiful, keep
saying that i'm good.
do you really think i
believe any of that? i'm
trying to turn a new
page, cleanse the wounds
she caused me, and now
i don't know which way
to turn because neither
path is paved for me and
neither door is open. i
wish i could say it was
easy but i can feel it
coming back, steadily like
a creeping animal ready
to pounce on my freshly-
healed heart and soul.
everyone says i have a type.
i believe that in a
heartbeat because each
heart that beats next to
mine is sweet in the melody.
i don't have my choice of
the picking but i can
pretend to be free of this
illness, relapsing on
romanticism and using stoicism
as a crutch, this wall i
put up can be broken down
by whoever's love is strong
enough. someone, take my hand
and lead me through the disease.
Ophelia unrelentingI keep all the
underneath my tongue :
they're the ones
that say you
love me -
- love me not
in this madness,
in this suspended
state of grace :
I will soldier on,
I will not allow
this willow branch
A song out of songsYou should have killed me when you had the chance. because. you were the king and now you're unconscious.
we can't be friends. sugar.
You really got me. this is gonna hurt. to hell and back.
this means war. sleep with one eye open. till the death of me. know your enemy.
We won't back down. with a little help from my friends. you're going down.
just the way you are. you deserve nothing and I hope you get less.
Darling. tonight the world dies. breathless. and all things will end. across the universe.
don't be afraid. I'm not afraid. Everything will be alright. in the end.
Everything's an illusion. and I fade out. the memory. on my own. since you been gone.
Say you'll haunt me. I'm lost without you. bruised and scarred. still waiting. Congratulations I hate you. I feel so on my own. How could this happen to me?
My heart is broken. I want you, I need you, I love you. my angel. It's not over.
A Secret that she died withIceTear cried again,even if she did not tell other cats.She would always love ShardClaw,she could not hate the tom who hurt her so much even if she tried.
IceTear felt sick knowing the truth,she would always have a part of ShardClaw with her Literately.IceTear was pregnant with the toms kits.
A feeling of regret and shame washed over her.ShardClaw had not loved her nor would anyone love her or the kits.IceTear wanted to scream at the unborn kits in her belly for making her feel so ashamed of how she had loved the tom.
For the next few moons IceTear hid her pregnancy from others.One day IceTear found a way to rid her self of the shame and burden....Have the kits in secret and give them away.
IceTear had left the camp one day feeling the pain coming on fast.She hide away close to a cabin were TwoLegs would stay in the New-Leaf.IceTear gave birth to Three tom kits who looked like a perfect mix of her and ShardClaw.Feeling ashamed she found a TwoLeg and got the TwoLeg to pick up the
Not your HeartLying in my bed, in the silence of the night,
my head is overwhelmed with one, single, giant
thought right in this lone moment. You, my dear,
you are the thought that is swimming laps
through my head.
How do I even begin to wonder if you do love
me; it feels like your giving me so many mix
signals that I am beginning to question if my
eyes are playing little tricks on me. Or are
you just unsure if you should take the leap.
You don't want to feel the pain that could
over rule every emotion that you have no
desire to feel in the first place. If
that's so, then I could never want to break
a heart like yours, it has way to much
wonderment for me to want to break when
there is so much more for me to explore.
The uniqueness that your soul has makes it
so hard, for me to resist not wanting to go
look into your eyes to see your whole world
lit up in a matter of seconds; maybe it's
just the reflection of me every time that I
look at you, how you can make me smile
effortlessly because of
even when the sun has set and the world seems its darkest…
take solace in knowing that the moon shall cast a beautiful porcelain glow upon the earth.
And my darling…
know that when the moon is gone from the sky
innumerable stars betwixt galaxies afar dance to feed your wandering eyes
and even when the clouds block the stars,
let the rain kiss upon your face and renew your belief that one day the sun shall rise again…
To kindle the flame in your heart and illuminate the light within your eyes and your soul.
For my love…
i have nothing but faith that even through the blackest of nights you shall persist in being the most wondrous thing I have ever come to know.
Love is. . .
Love is when I can't fall asleep because you are on my mind.
Love is impossible to describe, like the taste of water, or like how you taste on lips.
Love is when I wake up wishing it was your arms wrapped around me.
Love is our morning texts and goodnight wishes.
Love is not being able to stop thinking about you, wondering if you are happy.
Love is the worry that comes when you are hurt, wanting to kiss your wounds, even if you are my strong solider.
Love is meeting your gaze and having my heart trip.
Love is laughing with you, our fingers intertwined swinging, wanting nothing more than to be beside you.
Love is not wanting a future without you, wanting to wake up beside you and knowing that you love me back.
Love is . . .being yours & you being mine.
The Orange and The PigWhen Carrie met Alex
She was limping
And hurting more than her
Pulsing mind could understand.
And she saw him
And her immediate thought
Was to throw herself on him,
She could close her eyes and
Think of Momma when he hugged her.
And she vocalized all of this
Stretching out her blood stained arms
Towards his tall, suited form,
Which would of course become externally
When his mind caught her undeniable satellite signal.
When Alex met Carrie
And her distress
Spilled through the street
Like a tidal wave.
And she fell into his arms,
And the blood caused his stomach
To lurch out against his skin
And she said
'Please I'm dying'
In this Southern America type goloss.
And Alex was very confused,
But being the horrorshow young man
He was so painfully forced to be,
He knew he had to help.
And while he carried her
Through the streets going
Bog knows where,
His agitated mind reminded him of
Epic Rap Battles of MMA- Simon VS NoahI dislike you blue haired man, painted blue hair and fake tan,
I'm a legend I am top notch, come 'ny closer, I'll kick you in the crotch!
Your face is so damn ugly, I cannot even cope,
I cannot understand how Daryl can see hope,
U just gonna stand there and fiddle with yo thing?
Think yo better rapper than me?! Well, I'm the BLACK king!
Oh shut up you little fuck!
You cannot even suck a decent cock!
Actually, that's the only thing you do,
You're a fairy. You're gay. U a fuckin homo!
That's why you hang with Emil,
None of you has any appeal.
I know a bitch who shags anyone to sleep,
That's right, Simon Lullaby indeed!
Get lost and suck my balls,
Think u can probe me when night falls?!
I don't think so you blue, pathetic shit,
I don't like your attitude, no, not one fuckin bit!
My magic is much better than yours,
At least I don't grow rainbow pubes,
You might be the black king but your brain is darker
Yo a Lil faggot, my penis has more power,
You suck dick, my rhymes are neat,
Go to hell
A bloody warrior's heartWith front-held pain
I wandered the world,
Alone I walked
My heart gone grey...
Then I met her
Our meet by chance,
Her strain was worse
Than mine ever was...
Since our encounter
I vowed her aid,
My heart for hers
We'd share the rain...
My heart now aches
It slowly bleeds,
A warrior I was born
But now accompanied too...
it feels like everything's caving in on my spirit.used
is a word with multiple meanings.
it can mean
all the life sucked out of you.
it can mean
you've wasted away from so much
pressure, a hand you weren't given.
it can mean
you take a giant leap of faith
only to fall to your icy plunge,
into the splash you go.
i don't lke being used.
it's not fun.
you think for so long,
look, this will finally happen
and then it does
when you least expect,
and you feel like shit afterwards.
because you know you're
you know it and
you don't fight it.
i'm not pitying myself,
i'm pitying the girls that deal
with this same problem,
we take what we get
and sometimes what we get
isn't what we want.
maybe it is in some senses,
but after it's all said and done,
it's not what it was
supposed to feel like.
it's almost as if all the
air has been drained from
my lungs, heaving, i'm frightened
by how this thing has been
ruined, bursted to pieces, blown
to smithereens, broken.
but is it?
or are you just pretending it is
so you don't have to deal with
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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