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COFFEE AND POETRY
Coffee and Poetry. How similar!
If you think they're poles apart,
You'll be surprised when I start.
You consume one
while the latter consumes you
Go on, try one while you brew.
Impedes your sleep
With a word, a line, a sip, or a cup
Stops you before you can think of giving up
Dark and addictive,
Sometimes even bitter.
Yet, somehow makes you feel better.
Coffee and Poetry. How similar!
Intoxicates you while it's also a detox
A mug or paper filled with paradox.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
My Storyteller 💜
His hair is grey
And vision is blurred
His spends his day
In bed, one-third.
He taught me to read,
And told me to lead.
He taught me to write,
And told me to fight.
Evening's he spent
Saying his prayer.
He hates to depend
Loves his arm chair.
Night's he spent
Telling us tales
About the places he went
With all the details.
A child's first teacher
Is it's mother
But my first teacher
Is my grandfather.
His hair is grey
And vision is blurred
His smile never fades
He's my world.
(04.12.20)
( 032 )
I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.
( EMIL CIORAN )
I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.
E. M. Cioran, from Strangled Thoughts, in The New Gods
Suffering makes you live time in detail, moment after moment. Which is to say that it exists for you: over the others, the ones who don’t suffer, time flows; so that they don’t live in time, in fact they never have.
E. M. Cioran, from Strangled Thoughts, in The New Gods
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.
Emil Cioran, Strangled Thoughts
I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.
E.M. Cioran, Strangled Thoughts
i am tired of everyone and everything i just want every single person to leave me alone and pretend i don't exist i need to have silence i need to figure this out alone i dont want help i want to do this by myself, i want solitude, i want to sleep forever, i want my life to stop being so empty and lifeless and boring and so utterly extremely painful all of my non important existence in this universe, it doesn't have a meaning, i feel like i'm sleeping, drained and lifeless, but still somewhat existing and i feel empty and i hate to feel anything but i want to feel everything, everything's messy and i don't get it, i don't get it, nothing really matters at all at last i am just a body of flesh and blood and thoughts and i will soon die anyway, everyone will die, i don't understand any of this mess that is the world and my everyday life, nothing balances nothings in sync!!! i am so mad and i am so sad and i am so fucking vulnerable, when did this fucking happen it feels like it has gone on forever but i know that is has not been forever i have very vivid but very blurred memories of the time before this when everything weren't confusing and not looking at someone hurt or talking hurt or hating myself so much i can't stand up straight and the looks of a beautiful person made me feel ashamed for my laziness and ugliness and every movement didn't seemed to be without meaning and weak or mean gestures was all i could ever endure on a daily base and every creature that is in hiding in the back of my head didn't scream so loud i can't fucking think
