best of the alice in wonderland series..
I am going to make anoter teaparty thing,
Some other things with the watch,
that drink me bottle
rabbit hole thing
playing cards thing
if someone will lend me a rabbit or im going to use a stufffed one
and then im going to make something with that key
probably a lot more, because alice in wonderland is awesome
relapsesome days agorelapse by VampireNyan
I got arrested for threspassing
the borders of the underworld
my passport was taken away
when I said no to the poisons
bleakness in the form of a pill
they offered me as help
I was not allowed back
into that frozen inferno
& now I am sitting here
in the waiting room
the emotional analogue
of something as bleak as an
my file said
too happy, too well off
too loved to come back
to the place that is
rest for the wicked
keep her here waiting
until further notice
since when has
hell gotten sentinels?
Cemetery CatsThe wolves were out that nightCemetery Cats by DearPoetry
and all of the hook laden quips
that we concocted
fell upon lips
like a hummingbird's whisper.
Then, they ignited into flames
like burning stars.
That should have been us:
beautiful ash, supernova romance
with tongue and fingers soaked in ink.
We always did find the taste of Heaven
stale, like coffee three days old.
And with that taste still lingering,
you were a walking oxymoron.
A sinner come to save
these easily swayed, glass bones
from smashing into oblivion.
I longed to taste that wild,
untamed energy beneath your skin.
Devour that dragons heart,
and tattoo love along the bruises
I begged you to leave on my arms.
[ The 7 deadly sins wrapped up
into one nasty little Pisces. ]
You made me violent.
Names come and go,
but the race of these
rose petal hearts
wont easily be forgotten.--
As we spent our nights in graveyards,
with ghosts, in the company of
stone angels and cemetery cats-
Whispering our secrets to the dead.
Poets should never make ghost children.I whisper cheap metaphorsPoets should never make ghost children. by DearPoetry
into your needy ears until, like
funeral flowers, they rest upon
the atlas of your mind. You
with your napkin love letters
and cloudy storm eyes
are the only one to ever
make my scaled spine quiver.
But, my veins ache
from consuming too much ink.
I am gagging on black blood
as it spills from your fingertips
to rest upon my lips.
You asked me once if I could read
the words carved into my limbs
like prophecies of you and I
we were written in the universe
of freckles dotting my thighs.
I tried to plot constellations
along this neurotic cadaver skin
and only managed to contradict you.
FrostI am devouring chaos,Frost by DearPoetry
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.
When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?