untitled he crept inside this carapaceuntitled by ~deadritual
i carefully created, using my
hollowed bones for corridors.
the imaginary characters
haunting my insides did
little to frighten him away.
instead he kissed me there
in the darkness, his lips
warming my cold flesh
as i felt my heart flip
sideways like a fish.
behind bruised lips
my tongue, it danced,
anticipating his own
and how it might capture
my fleeting soul, seeping
out from beneath my pores.
as if he knew, he clasped
his coarse hands around
my face, filling me with
particles of his own.
A Lover's Swell. the sea steals smiles from her lips, full and stained with kisses and moments that shall not be so easily forgotten. she presses fingers to them to feel the warmth of him as the chilled breeze caresses her silky skin, shining in the faint light of dawn. shivering, she gazes out to the harbor and the lighthouse, the only physical remnants of the night, less she count the love marks on her thighs. she lights another cigarette to busy her hands, watching the light fade away into the rising sun.A Lover's Swell. by ~deadritual
reality bytes. whiskey drunkreality bytes. by ~deadritual
i whisper feverishly
of feelings, something
more than lust.
adoration.
an imagining,
built up through
an ethernet cord,
swelling behind my teeth.
to part these broken lips
and compromise myself,
what would i be giving?
i'm scared shitless,
rolling in the bottom
of a bottle.
though in this moment,
truth rings with a great accord.
my flesh aches for you.
i ache
for you.
though in this moment,
truth rings with great accord.
you and i
we will never be.
Broken. i.Broken. by =sirenseranade11
My mother doesn’t wear her wedding
ring anymore. Instead, it sits on the
counter above the kitchen sink, like
she took it off while washing dishes
and forgot to put it back on; but I’ve
seen her pick it up and wipe the counter
and walk away, like she no longer
recognized it as her own.
ii.
She and I have the same long, slim
fingers, except hers are clean and
manicured and tanned, they’re used
to flipping through old books, still
delicate and fragile, with arthritic
veins tracing through; Mine have
always been pale and torn up and
raw from anxious nerves, tough
callused finger tips from encounters
Cheerful 
!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! 
Sta.sh
