ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
decoded the architecture
of your half-apologies
while you were gone
looking
for someone to paralyze
with nihilistic undertones.
I was brushing collapsed dust
off of your shredded
cardigans, sadly
& ultra-violetly
flicking it off
with blue fingers
near where children
told me they had
never seen
such smooth little stones before
Would you like to see more of me?
Here are hundreds photos of me!
Just me!
I’ve added a few extras naked legs and panties and a bit of bondage!!
You want to see my butt right?
My cleavage? Anything Naughty really!
So what you waiting for join me for Lots of beautiful photography, let’s see what this beauty can do and also my photography skills!
Please join me, support me and also enjoy my work that I’m so very proud of!
$10/month
Literature
A Dirty Floor
The yellowed linoleum is stained with uninterpretable patterns
Perhaps ten thousand nights of decadence, maybe ten thousand days of happy children
Thin sunlight through dirty windows shows only battered confusion
Leaving traces of lives that never meant a goddamned thing
No more than abstract patterns on a dirty floor
Literature
fucking filthy
i want tragic hipbones and milky, fitting skin
i want seaglass eyes and i want a house with a few rooms
all with comfortable beds where we can lay
our bones all put together like puzzle pieces.
i know too many songs to sing alone about starvation
and desire
and i know too well the melody my heart beat trembles
around you
i want cigarettes and cocaine
i want mirrors and razorblades
and i have it, i have it
i want instability and irresponsibility
i want every atom of your body
welded to mine, because that's the
only way we'll ever touch
i want you to pick up all my shattered
pieces and say you still love me
i want you to see
Literature
riddles in a dirty glass bottle
i.
elegiac, i lament:
ancient tears in
figurative figure-eight eyes
my fingers sprinkle kennings, riddles
ridding word-house of its verse
and giving it to you in little boxes
i kick with legs made of litotes,
sink with a body of decaying carbon:
your lashes brush my blindfold
and you hear "turn right" from your left,
voice vexed in misdirection,
sounding through seas
as i shout out unwritten;
i've always been made of alliteration, all
pretty sounds to keep clarity clear
for the far-sighted:
no spaces for wrinkles of romance
or future, only very few
for you
ii.
you reach for me in the nighttime,
the summer air, constant constellations
Suggested Collections
no woman is an island
© 2013 - 2024 fake-theory
Comments20
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Fucking love the title.