Desultory and Impulsive

[LizzieEr]

She loved him. But he didn’t know how to love.
He could talk about love. He could see love and feel love. But he couldn’t give love.
He could make love. But he couldn’t make promises.
She had desperately wanted his promises.
She wanted his heart, knew she couldn’t have it so she took what she could get.
Temporary bliss. Passionate highs and lows. Withdrawal and manipulation.
He only stayed long enough to take what he needed and keep moving.
If he stopped moving, he would self-destruct.
If he stopped wandering, he would have to face himself.
He chose to stay in the dark where he couldn’t see.
If he exposed himself and the sun came out, he’d see his shadow.
He was deathly afraid of his shadow.
She saw his shadow, loved it, understood it. Saw potential in it.
She thought her love would change him.
He pushed and he pulled, tested boundaries, thinking she would never leave.
He knew he was hurting her, but didn’t know how to share anything but pain.
He was only comfortable in chaos. Claiming souls before they could claim him.
Her love, her body, she had given to him and he’d taken with such feigned sincerity, absorbing every drop of her.
His dark heart concealed.
She’d let him enter her spirit and stroke her soul where everything is love and sensation and surrender.
Wide open, exposed to deception.
It had never occurred to her that this desire was not love.
It was blinding the way she wanted him.
She couldn’t see what was really happening, only what she wanted to happen.
She suspected that he would always seek to minimize the risk of being split open, his secrets revealed.
He valued his soul’s privacy far more than he valued the intimacy of sincere connection so he kept his distance at any and all costs.
Intimacy would lead to his undoing—in his mind, an irrational and indulgent mistake.
When she discovered his indiscretions, she threw love in his face and beat him with it.
Somewhere deep down, in her labyrinth, her intricacy, the darkest part of her soul, she relished the mayhem.
She felt a sense of privilege for having such passion in her life.
He stirred her core.
The place she dared not enter.
The place she could not stir for herself.
But something wasn’t right.
His eyes were cold and dark.
His energy, unaffected.
He laughed at her and her antics, told her she was a mess.
Frantic, she looked for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, in his stance, and she found nothing but disdain.
And her heart stopped.

G.G. Hill

This is brilliant ... I need to look this up.

 

[y=mx+b]

Absolute...

fucking disdain.

 

[clistenovena]

Here's a picture of our cat tucked in for the night.

Your kitty might be the best thing you've put out so far.

Although that hay hook...

Or this- "Last edited by y=mx+b : 09-17-2016 at 11:38 AM. Reason: To add a little romance."

Nah. Your cat. Definitely best.

 

[y=mx+b]

And this is the best thing the Internet has put out. Ever.

A fine --true-to-life-- example of white class warfare at its best.

 

[y=mx+b]

Shaking...

she took a shower

Smoke still clung tight to her hair

She thought she shouldn't be scared
And sounded out silently the secrets that sat in her head.

There was a knocking no one knew about
She thought that if she knelt her nightmares would be nullified

They never were
And she wept within
Where wind swept waves
Worked without warning
Wiring up the wounds
Of her weakened heart

She knew he didn't care

And he didn't


Because he didn't know.

He didn't hear her heart hurting
High on humid tears
Of human horrors
Lost upon horny husbands
Hounding whomever they can
Hoping to put them in heat
Hoping that by doing so
He will have whomever it is by the hair

Thrusting whatever he could into their bodies
Even if it was just a naked notion
Not unlike whatever it was they were already thinking

Such like those of the sounds of sex

Wet sex

The kind of sex that feels like it looks
Lurid and loud
Leaving limbs listlessly laying there
But still bound to the bed
By hard gripping hands
Breaking the blood vessels
Behind the flesh of the breasts
Whose bruises are brought out
Blow by blow
Beneath the beating heat
Of a shower she never should have took.

 

[rubydlite]

fucking disdain.

A little disdain works with sharp pointy things.

 

[y=mx+b]

This is good to know and worth keeping in mind for the months to come.

 

[LizzieEr]

she took a shower

Smoke still clung tight to her hair

She thought she shouldn't be scared
And sounded out silently the secrets that sat in her head.

There was a knocking no one knew about
She thought that if she knelt her nightmares would be nullified

They never were
And she wept within
Where wind swept waves
Worked without warning
Wiring up the wounds
Of her weakened heart

She knew he didn't care

And he didn't


Because he didn't know.

He didn't hear her heart hurting
High on humid tears
....

Breaking the blood vessels
Behind the flesh of the breasts
Whose bruises are brought out
Blow by blow
Beneath the beating heat
Of a shower she never should have took.

And sometimes he knows and still doesn't. That, perhaps, is a little bit worse.

 

[y=mx+b]

And sometimes he knows and still doesn't. That, perhaps, is a little bit worse.

Which sometimes makes it all the more enjoy to do.

 

[y=mx+b]

Because.

 

[LizzieEr]

Because.

And that, my friend, is a kick-ass reason for anything at all.

 

[rubydlite]

Because.

My teachers always told me 'because' was not an answer. Clearly they weren't asking the right question.

 

[Interested_Girl]

Because.

Soap dispenser....Soap Pump.

Redundant?

 

[y=mx+b]

And that, my friend, is a kick-ass reason for anything at all.

I tend to think so

My teachers always told me 'because' was not an answer. Clearly they weren't asking the right question.

My teachers never told me anything and simply let their red pens speak for them all over my assignments.

Soap dispenser....Soap Pump.

Redundant?

It's a hospital bathroom. The wall dispenser was an alcohol based anti microbial foaming agent with soothing aloe.

Found more handwritin drafts of something I had to get down before it was lost. Library desk only had post-its available to steal

Enjoy

 

[Interested_Girl]

It's a hospital bathroom. The wall dispenser was an alcohol based anti microbial foaming agent with soothing aloe.

I wondered about the guide rail. Nice mirror, not sterile, like a hospital.

 

[y=mx+b]

Chase your dreams.
Or
Let them fall into place.

 

[Corbal]

Chase your dreams.
Or
Let them fall into place.

Or make them your bitch
With a determined grin on your face

 

[y=mx+b]

Or make them your bitch
With a determined grin on your face

Tried that once.
Turned into a real fucking nightmare.

 

[Corbal]

Tried that once.
Turned into a real fucking nightmare.

Aim small, miss small.

My dreams are obtainable.

I wanted donuts. I bought them...and ate them up like a real badass.

 

[y=mx+b]

That moment...

When you are folding the laundry
And happen upon the panties
That belong
To the woman
You share a house with

Who

18 years ago















Was the flower girl at your wedding.

 

[y=mx+b]

Of course for you women, that's probably not much of a big deal.

 

[y=mx+b]

...but for the dude it has a direct impact upon... kinda weird.

On a number of levels

Level one--the fact that she has indeed become a woman
Level two--that you have become older than how you feel
Level three--the realization you shouldn't be attracted to her and you're not, for the most part.
Level four--the realization that the part of you that is attracted to her kinda makes you want to punch yourself in the face.
Level five--...because panty creepers are creepy and the fact that her panties gave you pause makes you a defacto panty creeper.

 

[y=mx+b]

Okay.

I'm over it now.

Just had a moment. Carry-on people. Carry-on.

 

[jezzilee]

I appreciate the honesty in this thread.

thank you.

 

[y=mx+b]

Speaking of honesty...

First off... Given my general disposition one would think


You know what?
Fuck it.

One...

Some would probably suppose I'm a big fan of NIN
I can't say that I am. Which even I find kinda weird

Now granted I got a shit ton of their albums
The thing is... I've yet to buy one on my own for myself

They've all been given to me
Some under the assumption it all would be up my alley

Others... to hold on to
Given to me almost like how one gives another a gun
Or a bottle of liquor
Because they no longer trust themselves with it



Anyway...


The gravity of that just hit me hard.

More so having realized I had forgotten this very large
Professionally mounted NIN poster
The parents of my wife's co-worker gave me
While we helped them clean out their son's condo
After he killed himself.

I had nowhere to put it when we got home
So I tucked it behind the furnace at our old place

Where it still is now.



Fuck...
How could I fucking forget that?




Fuck that digression.
The shit's par for the course of my life anyway.

Whatever. Moving on.


I'm not posting this video for anyone in particular
Even though she knows that it's for her.

The reason why I am posting it is for you

You are here
Because I speak to you
Because you know I want to speak to you

Not to tell you like it is
Or how it should be
Or to offer you any in sight on your own bullshit life

Perhaps some of you are here to make yourselves feel good that you don't have it so bad

I don't know

But what I do know is that we all...
All of us
Have that someone that is absolutely everything to us

They are our perfect.

They're also our absolute destruction

Our muse
And our succubus
--our incubus
Our crush

That we crush relentlessly
All in the hope they understand our hurt
Our longing to be closer

Knowing that they never will
--not how we want them to.

Perhaps I am right
Perhaps I am wrong.

No matter
This song is for you

For when you just need that one fucking moment

















Alone.