

With All Due RespectI felt it before I saw it, the shadow falling across my newest page. The longer I looked into it, the more I thought I saw things moving within it, like a thousand miniscule eyes blinking. It was the third night he had come, and, I presumed, with the same request. Have you finished it yet? he asked me in the dull loathsome tone he always used. With a sigh, I kept my pen moving across the page. No, no I havent. You know I cant work that quickly. I have needs, like sleep, food, and exercise. At this he laughed, mocked me with his painfully dreary vocals. You cannot have such mortal necessities until thiWith All Due Respect
Smile

The Fairytale DripTake a closer look, I'm your knight, Mare in tarnished armor, Walking the stars, Saving your day, Light is fading away, Fairtytale endings, We're bound by blood, Shed to protect you, I'll take you away, We'll flee from the dragon miss, Interpertations are skewed, I've slept with the wolves, Now we ride into the sun, Settle down into your straps, Leave the fire in your wrist, Watch your mind drip away, Who cares what's in the tube, Oh you thought I was your prince, Charming the snakes with my eyes, Love we're just insane.The Fairytale Drip


The Lovliest ThievesThey met in the city, Her lips were bright red, His eyes icey blue, Then she cocked her head, Reached out her hand, He took it in his, They looked all but harmless, Lovely when they kiss, He pretends to love them, She slips around back, He leaves before sunup, They meet in the black, Two lovers and thieves, And thats when it starts, One steals their goods, And one steals their hearts.The Lovliest Thieves
and leave compliments and mockery and all that good stuff
you should go find some favorites in the meantime. that section looks pretty bare and i like to stalk what kind of art people like >>
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quote:: Peter; Brian, theres a message in my alphabits..it says, 'oooooooooooooooooo'... Brian; Peter, those are Cheri'o's...
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Ceci n'est pas une signature.
Heya, & thanks.
No artist am I, however.
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"And now we go, my dear boy. Now we go to do the unthinkable, achieve the improbable, become a legend. My boy, now we go to kill a god."
Thulrik Lavelle to a young Alastair.
no artist, perhaps, but a poet you may be.
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Ceci n'est pas une signature.
Poetry is my brain doodles.
Stories are the result of either lack of procrastination artistically, or a surplus of procrastination academically.
"n stuff.
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"And now we go, my dear boy. Now we go to do the unthinkable, achieve the improbable, become a legend. My boy, now we go to kill a god."
Thulrik Lavelle to a young Alastair.
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Ceci n'est pas une signature.
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