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Literature Text
I get along with people who smoke weed, who have done MDMA, who have tripped donkey balls on LSD. I get along with people who have a mushroom experience… to tell, a drunken story that is unbeatable, a rebellious reminiscence, that makes me feel alive.
I get along with the fucked up kids.
I get along with the kids, who do not fit in with the mainstream crowd.
I get along with the misfits, who doubt themselves and ask themselves daily "why am I here?"
I get along with those who don't judge, but who are judged.
I get along with those who appreciate reality, in its most deformed, diluted, and incomprehensible state.
Normal is overrated.
Normality is boring.
Give me a fucked up chick, with scars, a guitar, and an endless game of truth or dare… any day
Give me a fucked up guy, with bruises, white socks, leather jackets, tattoos, and a taste for mystery.
Give me a man, who will look into my eyes and see the next 50 years of his life, in ecstasy… knowing I will do him good, do him well, do him, pleasurably.
Give me a person, who knows me inside out, just by listening to my stories, hearing my regrets, and feeling my instrument.
Give me a person, who risks it all for a challenge, who throws sanity away for one night of madness, who shares intimacy with the world for 24 hours.
Give me a human, that has the balls to go crazy, and own it like the most sane.
A human that knows what they want, and who grabs just that, with the ownership they deserve.
A person, that understands, little, strange me, for the amazing, imperfect, wonderful, fucking exquisite being she is, just and only because.. I exist.
Literature
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)
I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Of academics
High achievers
Schooling-keen
Fervent believers
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
Sternly-sculpted syllabus-minds
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Who
Or what
Literature
Hell's Little Angel
You hide your horns with a halo,
Your black wings are hid by white,
You wear a disguise so no one knows,
Who you really are tonight.
You were heavens outcast,
turned dark and sent to hell,
Hell’s little angel,
that name suits you, oh, so well.
You stare into the living’s soul,
with eyes so black and wide,
You try to be so very sweet,
so your true self you can hide.
You have a little secret,
You’re hiding it so well,
You really are unpleasant,
Hell’s little angel.
Literature
either way
she dances like a raindrop,
collapses on the ground,
and all of her bones shatter,
made from thin, liquid glass,
her voice ripples on the surface
and it screams
the soft syllables pirouetting on your eardrums
her fingertips tapping
can you hear them?
they are cotton balls
being dropped on the asphalt
can you hear them?
(it's the wind carrying her feet across the air)
and she dances like a raindrop.
you can catch her
and she can shatter in your palms.
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Comments41
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I felt let down a bit from title to material... didn't find it fucked up at all... was more like a plea for love... I still like it... probably cause I've ate over 100 hits of lsd at once... oh little, amazing, fucked up me...