Filthy
this is my brain. this is my brain undressed. any questions?
Right, think I I shall do another stream of consciousness But it's harrrrd it's not just the empty page and all that crap that's a problem for noobs It's the act of observing changing the thing being observed Like, Did I really think "think l" or did I catch the "I think" nice and quick and add a bit of pretension to make myself seem interesting? I don't think I did but m aybe it happened in a blink It's supposed to be unfiltered, am I managing to catch it raw and wriggling and stick it to the page in its unadulterated state? Like a toddler doing crafts It's hard to be a toddler And yet toddlers are so good at it wild really when you think how little experience they've had I'm failing already because I'm thinking about thinking but I wont keep thinking about failing because that's the trap isn't it to give room to the I'm not good enough voice inside your head failing failing failing my thats a word that echoes shut up! failing because I can't write fast enough and l think some of the little blighters are getting away. Little silvery thought fishes. Toddler catching them and sticking them to a page, lots of gloopy glue to peel off hands after Beautiful flashes escaping chubby fingers Are they spawning There's loads of them can't possibly get all of them (I did it again I know I did, I thought "catch them all" but I changed it because of pokemon) failing but no it's ok because I admitted it (absolved but not penitent) so you still get the stream, it just has a rock in it look see bump whoops and away we go moving on fishing for slithery shiny thoughts not compliments no never (please read it, like it, leave a comment, please... oh look the little fishes become bait, how neat) The common lesser spotted freshwater blighter. Wait. Do I have salty thoughts? Wait. is lesser spotted for birds? Fits. (flits.) Even harder to catch. Common-or-garden, two a penny. Not slippery though. Need to be slippery and nude. oh boy I say never so naked as I am on a page, but this stream of consciousness is even nakeder knowing someone will read it, oh my The only way to do it then is to peel off my clothes layer by layer. I know you're watching and I don't mind. I am bold. But it can't be like a striptease, oh no. Nothing so on purpose. deliberate. choreographed. And not just because I can't dance. tear my togs off then. defiant even, roaring maybe. RAHHHH See: I'm naked and I don't care this is NOT for your gaze well it is and it isn't bit of both really arg need to stop thinking about thinking and just do the thinking but if the thinking about thinking follows naturally then it's okay right? it's part of the natural stream. glad to have cleared that up but maybe I shouldn't have because I'll get stuck down that rabbit hole. pit of despair, or pit of something less sad. a dead end. cul de sac of thoughts. thought de sac. Uh oh. am I allowed to do a u-turn? I'm doing it. Reverse. Rev engine. Wheels spin. Getting out of here. I don't like this neighbourhood. Too shady. Reboot. Rollback. (water cant flowwww backwards shut up I'm going where the fishes are) Rewind urrrrr eeeeeeeeEEEE Clothes. That's it. Clothes off. Rip them off. But not in a sexy hurry. more like plaster off quick. Shed my threads. shred my threads. Can't put them back on if they're shredded. can't put this gooey soft little shrimp back in its shell. Here, have this vulnerable little bit of my brain. Freshly shelled. Brain prawn, brain pawn, brain porn. Very naked, a little bit vulgar, don't read this to your granny, expose what's normally hidden, all angles, ghastly close up. (I did it again, I deleted "spread the brain hole". That's a lie, it was my not the. This isn't winning any (fucking) challenges.) Got to milk that teat, exploit those bared udders. make some cash, get seen, kerchinggg uhh uhh uhh, pretend you like it, ha very apt, still not sexy definitely not sexy, poor little shellfish. shelled, unshelled. poke poke... this is worse. if we write long enough, does it always end with sex or death? should have stayed in that comfortable little thought de sac. neat. respectable. safe. probably. could have bought a house there. What's the real estate like? cheap probably thoughts are cheap. often rude. even "sac" sounds rude. (ha trick question. if you write long enough it would definitely end in death.)
By L.C. Schäferabout a year ago in Poets
He Is...
6’5, breaded and tattooed with a soft side. He gets me. He’s for me. Never misses a chance to make me smile. He will open up to me when life gets too heavy on his heart. He doesn’t have to love all art but he can show appreciation for it, especially mine. He will always take the opportunity to touch my skin. Gives me kisses in passing. He will support me in every way even the ones he doesn’t understand. He will give me my space to be alone and stay quiet. He will have joy and control of his temper. And when he can’t he will recognize that he needs to take a breather and walk away. He is warmth on the coldest of days. He's built like a modern god with a dick that fills me completely . He makes love to me and fuxks me like a savage. Wanting to hurt me and fill me with ecstasy with every stroke. He has his own life under control and his own path laid before him. He can give advice as well as receive it. He is kind, generous and humble. He is honest, but never cruel. He is a king among men and loves to travel to show this. He doesn’t smoke and drinks to living the moment a bit. He has his hobbies and interests. He has a circle of friends that adores him and nothing will be more important to him than God and then me. He will be a family man that believes in big moments with the family and small moments with me. Will randomly call me up and want to go to discount Tuesday at the movies. We can catch a fancy dinner and a quick homely one. He is luxury. Fridays is not to good for him. He will love to take me to the zoo and downtown. He is grateful and will share his love unconditionally with me. He is a hopeless romantic, with a wicked sense of humor and a beautiful smile. He is Love...
By LiciaEmberabout a year ago in Poets
No Lesson Here. Content Warning.
Jack and Jill went up the hill, They fucked like crazy up at the top. Jill cried and moaned to have Jack not stop. The fucked for hours and then tumbled down. At the bottom they fucked for another solid round. Then Jill had loudly cried out loud. For fuck sake I forgotten my pill. At which point Jack caught a chill. He grabbed the bucket that lay beside him, Poured out the water at which point seemed grim. Jill rolled over and threw Jack a glance, Just as she was struck by the bucket like a Lance. Stunned and bleeding Jill looked in shock, Then Jack whipped out his pistol like glock. Unloaded his clip in Jill's unfortunate crown. Saying to himself “ she should've gone down” Then stunned was Jack as reality set in. For he knew he had completed a deadly sin. Fuck it to himself he had said. Reloading the glock and shot himself dead.
By Vinn Blackabout a year ago in Poets
