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Literature Text
There's a hole in your chest where your heart should be
It's jagged and ragged and ripped at the seam
It's old and it bleeds like the look in your eye
When you drink and you think that I'll never ask why.
'cause I won't.
If you hate me then hate me, if you love me then do
And save all the shit that you make me wade through
I've seen how you look when you think I can't see
The strain when you train your fingers from me.
You want, you won't touch.
You follow with hollow and heavy masked eyes
You dream that I want, and a part of you dies
'cause turning and churning, you think you'll be sick
When you realize it won't take a second to pick
Me,
over anything else.
It's jagged and ragged and ripped at the seam
It's old and it bleeds like the look in your eye
When you drink and you think that I'll never ask why.
'cause I won't.
If you hate me then hate me, if you love me then do
And save all the shit that you make me wade through
I've seen how you look when you think I can't see
The strain when you train your fingers from me.
You want, you won't touch.
You follow with hollow and heavy masked eyes
You dream that I want, and a part of you dies
'cause turning and churning, you think you'll be sick
When you realize it won't take a second to pick
Me,
over anything else.
Literature
Imagine That
Hanna tried to imagine him being warm.
He probably wore cologne. Something strong, but in the right way; strong enough to make your stomach curl and your heart clench with familiarity as soon as you smelled it, like he was all around you yet five feet away. He was protective even now, so whatever smell it was, cologne or natural, it was a scent that made you feel safe.
Hanna did not try to imagine how he'd gotten killed, but he did try to imagine the sound of his laugh, how he figured it to be contagious, fill up the room.
He tried to imagine his eyes, or maybe just the space around them, unsunken, lacking tint from an ever-present glow. H
Literature
TIK TOK by PLESHA
WAKE UP IN THE MORNING FEELING LIKE PLES TIBENOCH
I'VE GOT MY FANCY ARM SPATS AND MY POCKET WATCH.
BEFORE I LEAVE, I BRUSH MY TEETH WITH A FIFTH OF FINE SCOTCH
'CAUSE WHEN I WALK OUT THE DOOR, I'M STILL NOT SAUCED ENOUGH
I'M TALKING-
DRESSED UP TO THE NINES NINES
POLISHED MY GLASSES 'TIL THEY SHINE SHINE
GOTTA GET TO THE LIQUOR STORE ON TIME TIME
AND NOW I'M
DRIVING MY FANCY CAR 'ROUND
ACCOUNTING LIKE A PRO DOWNTOWN
THEN GO TO THE BAR FOR ANOTHER ROUND
OH STOP, MAKE IT STOP
VESER'S BLOWING MY SPEAKERS UP TONIGHT
I'VE GOT A HANGOVER WITH A HORRIBLE BITE
TIK TOK ON THE CLOCK
THIS PARTY'S GOTTA STOP
WOAH OH OH OH, WOAH OH OH OH
Literature
YouOweMe.
"Ow."
"Don't move."
"Good god, OW!"
"I said quit movin'!"
"It HURTS".
"Then don't turn that way."
"I can't see you otherwise."
"You don't need to see me," Worth was not a patient man. He never had been, and never will be. But what wore his patience most was a short, loud, bespectacled redhead named Hanna Falk Cross. He adjusted the unfiltered cigarette in his lips so that it pointed away from the young man, and kept his focus as well as he could.
The redhead made a face between pouting and disgust, and settled for lying flat on his stomach with his cheek pressed to the table; he hissed. "You're horrible."
"Only toward you," In and ba
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so.
I always imagined this would be a stage in the Conworth cycle.
I dunno.
I figure Worth has some weird emotional hangups.
Doc Worth/Conrad (c) Tessa Stone
I always imagined this would be a stage in the Conworth cycle.
I dunno.
I figure Worth has some weird emotional hangups.
Doc Worth/Conrad (c) Tessa Stone
© 2010 - 2024 DesdemonaKakalose
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holy shit i love this soooooooooooo much