Note: I like this quite a bit, mind blowing imagery.

goldenagony:

I. New

The girl, such a tenuous thing, with friable skin and feeble bones wore a black Lolita dress cupped over pearl frills and anonymous bows. The silken material rolled in and out her palms and felt foreign to her senses, her artificial senses of not touch but recognition. For, what was an android girl to be if she did not encounter the abundance of silk? Chestnut curls in quivering mishaps framed the sculpture and only illuminated the radiance of her brown iris’ that held magnetic sparks that bolted through (but only hypnotic dreams controlled by electricity). 

II. Balsamic

It was winter, 28th July 1992, the frostiest icicles pricking at the greys of your veins, when silver lined the cracks in the pavement and clinged to the trees for doubting support, that she witnessed a ghost in her reflection. For hours of unceasing minutes and minutes of unending seconds, she had stared into the pupil’s of her mirror’s eyes to find she was somewhere new, a cascade of dust consumer her in the least post-modern attitude. What atoms disbursed from powder to create such an illusion of herself? The ghost’s soulless eyes (made from steel) and fingernails aching and yearning for something it couldn’t have. 

III. Last Quarter

Lolita Girl soothed the bruises (the monsters) of her knees, burnt bruises of deception and beauty and a suitcase of nothings and nothings waiting in the corner. While she cried and the velvet tears strummed the goldmines of her porcelain cheeks, her eyes turned white like the centre of the Vega star. When she wailed, miniature brides in white dresses fell from her eyes and clung to the pores of her skin but wait - too late, they fell, as all tears do and the Vega star never maintains lustrous forever.  

IV. Disseminating

There was an event that occurred on the day were Lolita Girl’s arms failed to work and a French girl visited with ruby apples grazed upon her cheeks and the richest of rubies embedded into the cores of her lips. Lolita Girl followed her around until she left, unable to reach, to touch, to speak. Isolation shelled her like a gun barrel that was fully loaded with segregation and quarantine simultaneously shot at her, her bionic arms glued to her sides and her lips being sewed shut. Voiceless and deprived and bruised, Lolita Girl wailed more figurine brides. 

V. Full

In the most rawest of dreams, she surged the forbidden lands with a voice too loud and guards too mute to stop her. 

VI. Gibbous

Her silken Lolita dress achieved the floor and too exhausted, she only sighed. Her bones too fragile and skin too firm (Much too firm) was now deteriorating in angst and without the fine touch of another. 

VII. First Quarter

October 30th 2003, Lolita Girl projected herself down to a riverbed of acrylic sand and clouds too white, too white for her, tucked away into jars. Rations too radiant from across foreign seas ate her lips. For, what was an android girl to be if she could not experience the wealthy sense of Caribbean luxuries? (Although the tastes remained indistinctive upon her pouted lips)

VIII. Crescent 

Ultimately, the Lolita Girl was just a rag doll regulated by strings and a puppet of discipline approval without a voice and a fragmented imagination.

Side note: This is absolutely gorgeous. 

thegirlwithyellowhair:

we are burning, 

fuelled by graphite,
mercury boiling within
syringes, plagued

by nocturnal images,
mesmerised.

down by the ocean,
mermaids lay sleeping
breathing in dreams of
valium and pleading
with the clouds to
save them.

magnesium glowing
white, creating spectrums 
in our godless minds,

find our breath milk
white with fog
and our fingers frozen,

death is coming.  

Anchor

Note: Holy.. wow.

artisticallysuppressed:

                                                    you
                                                 floated
                                                    into
                                                     my
                                    bloodstream when you
                                    found a hole in my skin
                                                    and
                                                    brea
                                                    thed
                                                     me
                        I                           beau                             &
                       have                    tiful.                           you
                          never               Love,                     me to
                             felt as complete as the day you tied
                                   Whispered words of forever
                                      that I could never, let
                                        go.You are the only
                                           anchor this ship
                                              has known-
                                                   Keep 
                                                    me.
                                                                                                   

                                                                                              Wording here

by messagestothemoon.tumblr.com

Lost for Words

Side note: THIS!

aconstanttransition:

Though I am a writer,
sometimes I run out of words.

So though I wish to help you know,
I hardly know myself.

No, I’m not angry,
I’m just…..

I wish things were different,
but instead they are….

I don’t know what to tell you,
so I’ll just say……

To put it unpoetically,
I have to save myself this time.

‘She’ Unrequited Series (still…)

Note: Wonderful.

athousandyearsofbone:

you..

(it would never work)

but..

(it would never work)

but i..

(it would never work)

i..

(it would never work)

To the mirror

Side note: Brilliant.

loqui:

Mirror,
You are a liar
My voice makes
More sense
Than you say
My eyes
Are open wider

Mirror,
You are a liar
The sharpest painter
For sure
The spark flick
Of genius
When the flint
Is hot,
Sure
But

Mirror,
You are a liar
An actor
A reciter
Of lines
Of which
You are a
Paraphraser
Improviser
Having fun at
My expense

You know
Each day
I approach you
With hope

But today
I bring a hammer
Full of fact
Steel solid
And sure

To discover
You are
Glass backed
With opinion

You will know its name
Its motives are yours;
To shatter