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One Nice Bug Per Day
oozey mess
Jules of Nature
h
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Three Goblin Art
blake kathryn
KIROKAZE
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Game of Thrones Daily
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
🪼
Kaledo Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Cosimo Galluzzi
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@twohousesoftheholy
PARADE'S END
I let her
Down
Depraved
Deprived
Of comfort
Solace
Understanding
I let her stay
Instead
Of sending her
On her way
Which would have been
Kind
Kinder
More human
I let her down
In the most polite
Of my way
Placing
Only
An unending kiss
Upon her breast
To last
Till her dying day
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Sweet
Lemon drop
Of a girl
In my mouth
My tongue
Puckered
Nothing
More Pleasing
Than her melting
Lucky
She was warm
Unexplored
Her song changed
In springtime
I wrote her
At Christmas
Besotted
arcane/ward
when we were girls we were taught that if you just loved the beast enough, looked past the dripping fangs, the claws curled around a heart you were certain was good beneath it all - if you held a little more faith, stayed soft enough, malleable enough, resilient enough - that the spell he was under would be broken and you would live long enough to see the beast become the man you were promised; your reward for loving so blindly and wildly - and so i drank my poison like a good little miss every last d r o p we're feigning fables now, but not really. it's a tale as old as time. so we sit in our gilded cages and carriages of copper and wait. wait while the beast clips our wings, and the bars that once kept us safe, the bars we mistook for devotion, now hold us captive. until the clock strikes midnight and the carriage remembers it was always a pumpkin, while you're standing in a pool of your own blood, cutting your feet on the same glass slippers you were once all too willing to wear.
and you cannot be surprised when the fairy tale buries you in a shallow grave.
because he showed you who he was from the beginning.
the teeth were not a curse.
the claws were not a hex.
the beast was not waiting to be loved into becoming human. the beast was never waiting to be saved. there was no spell. only you.
MAKER
I am the maker
Making of you
Infinite moonlight
Wrapped in the lust of my desires
Satyriasis molded in my creativity
Ardor folded to obey my commands
Only to satisfy my nymphomania
You my Prometheus dressed only in fire
You are made of
The absolutely indescribable
Words made up by a goddess
To satiate only the faithful
Followers of your written
Down going words of utter delight
The breaking ways you shake me
Shape me into your solid
Phallical fantasy of sustenance
Piller to a monument unclimbable
Consumed in the fate of
Your increasing achievement of sin
You make of me the taker
Of every magic you offer
Every gift of time to procreate
Every sip of your slowly
Correctly aged wine
The consumer of all your unholy
Parts you left out in the sun
I thought it would keep me awake
The conquering
Of vast and varied worlds
Your thoughts I invoke
When you wake
I take and retake of all and again
In a fervid fever my dream
Bare for this innuendo of
Consumption of total identity
This appetency involved in your yearning
Covetousness and pining thirstiness
You’re the walking erotomania I require
I take of you in lechery and every thought
As I invent new and interesting ways to admire
The ways you practice this love pyromancy
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I dress you in sage as
We’re about to become
Sienna and honey
In stages undone
GRIFTER
I love her feral
Claws deterministic
Ripping new words
Out of my skin
She makes me
Opportunistic
A dance
Of servant and wife
She’s a gift
This grifter of angels
Takes me for all that I am
Unawares
Four plays of unending
Ambitious discerning lust
Exclusive
Live aportions
In her bed
I am well
Read
In her head
I am hell
Major demon
To be bred
You see the parts
Don’t make up hearts
It’s the breaking
Constant
The cold restart
i have burnt lips, but i know the taste of fire...
PARES
Flesh
My only teacher
I can’t reach her
As she sleeps
Don’t sigh
Only the moon hears tears
Only a battle cry can wake her
Sung in the storms up above
Cure me of love
Like a summer storm
I lay
Idling
Neutral in the sun
Thus I await the one
Who remakes me undone
Makes us as one
The dawn is milky
Silky as is her
Panties
She wants
A kiss to remove
The pain
A song to dance
Not in vain
Me to prove
I’m not insane
I go on
And on about it
Learning verses
Seducing nuns with shouts
Imperfection
Resuscitation
Resurrection of only the devout
An hour to read
Another to breed
Eyes cojoining in an existential
Way I cannot deny
We swap
Mated pairs
Infinite this girl
And her rain
I must define
A river
Or at least swim
Until I reach her shore
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I close the mouth of my need—
I won’t ask. I won’t tell.
I won’t gasp the actuality
of this deficiency down your throat.
I won’t suspire the taste of you
into my mouth with a warm
releasing yessssss.
I would not torment you like this.
Rather. I can smile most courteously—
I can hide the jagged edge of my want
behind the benevolence of my sweet
bruised peach heart, dripping in sugar
surely you can’t see what mercilessness
I have torn myself to ribbons with.
See. I’m a sucker punch of
desiring nothing. Nothing.
I can be mundane and unfed and I can be
categorically dead.
I am not shivering. Or petitioning.
I am the picture perfect apathy
laying passively in the broken stone caress
of these ruins.
—The Hollow Quiet
LIBRARIAN
In your books
I read my destruction
Woman
Eclectic
Singularity
I mean you no harm
Let’s come together in peace
Let me bathe in your knowledge
I wanted to read you
Still
Infinite
Under and in the moonlight
Tasting of sunlight and tears
Love scrawled
In scrimshaw anatomy
Hieroglyphs
Dyed on your skin
Librarian
All of your spines my center piece
Never the side quest
But torrent blessed
In the middle of your mind
I plan to unwrap you
Perhaps too unkind
But then the familiar
Was never truly on fire
I wanted to read you still
The way your presence
All of your shelves
Focuses me
There can no other page
No other card showing cups
I knew this then and know it
Still
Addicted
You surround
The world and all its storms
Far fast and ferocious
Devouring totality
In blissful
Words
Still
Aflame
In the stacks
In all of your halls
A catalogue
Of how far I’ve gone
Just to witness the sight
Of your glossary
A midsummer night’s dream
With the sunset still lingering
A midnight
Red and golden
air filled with allure
Lovers dancing like glowing embers
perfectly pure
Passionately the fire draws me closer
There
The magic of your touch
Oh my Love
I can feel it now
Burning
Reciting poetry and playing heartstring songs
A long night of memories and confessions
and longing from afar
YOUR PEACEMAKER CRY
You
Were written too
I need the desire
The yearning
The longing
I needed
The worship
In your eyes
Looking up
You lie there
Screaming the angels are real
When I’m the only drug
That makes you fly
Come
Closer now
Do not deny
With your finger
Quieted sigh
I can only borrow
Never take
What I want
You will give to me
With a yes please
Give me all of it
Peacemaker
Cry
Promises
I needed you
Unfettered
Untethered
Except for the bounds
Of my tie
Renew
Your vows
Unholy
As I bite deep
Into your thigh
Just so
You remember
Remember me
As the flame
The one
Who whispers
Your name
As aprica
In order to win over
The sun
call me
even if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time
with a full moon and a lone wolf
whimpering bloody pawed from your insides
if you are knee-deep, puddle-spilled
puking up every warning that i gave you,
just call me - i will pick you up quick as prayers leave lips
i have blankets and hot chocolate, arms locked open,
i do not care what you have done,
never let shame stop you reaching for your phone
and dialling my number; i am no god i am no judge
i am your mum - call me and i will come
Hollie McNish
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
To drown in you would not be an end,
but the only beginning I have ever wanted.
A resurrection born of salt and soul.
I want to sink into the golden warmth of your skin,
tracing the quiet rise and fall of your breath
like gentle waves lapping against midnight's shore.
Your chest holds the moon,
and I am merely the water answering it's call.
You, are the most
voluptuary gasp of poetry
upon which my lungs are hung—
and I’m not even trying to breathe.
All I want is to perverse these verses
throat to spine to the crawl
of your graceless decline.
Nothing could convince me
you are not holy and divine.
—The Hollow Quiet
A Gasp of Poems
