02:26 am inspiration strikes?

As I walk down the street, my breath a painting above the dark sky, my fingers itch with temptation. What will I do? Where will I go? I don’t know the answers to these questions. I know but two small things; what I want and what I need. But are these right? That I’m not sure of.

Love

Greed

Home

Death

Passion…

I know these things, and I know who I am. The basic person thrives for goodness, but is it truly achievable? We are all flawed, in one way or another.

I don’t know a person’s secrets, their passion. Their flaws.

Do you?

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for one second; a mess of thoughts by k.c

For one second I want to revel in what it is to be a teenager. I don’t want to fight for women’s rights, or for the planet, or hear about the countless young people dying in school. I don’t want to seek gratification from people I don’t care about online. I want to make mistakes and be dumb, and not have to fight for things that are so so much bigger than me. I want to forget about how scary the world is and live in my own happy place, where I am not self-conscious, where I don’t analyse every inch of my pictures and myself. A place where I can be happy and be who I am, not burdened by the weight of things I cannot change. For one second I want to live in the now, not think about my future or what the next year will bring. I want to run around every night living in the moment and having fun. I don’t want to worry about people saying this or that. I want to be effortlessly young. I want to write and not fear what others will see in my messy compiled sentences. I want to love who I l

505 AM

The soft curve of the waist, the smooth silky skin. Small dimples on the lower back, and perfect hand hold. The cascading waves of honey, reflecting the golden rays of light. Pools of water watching my every move, sending messages without sound. part one The click of my entrance, placing the thin plastic card on the table I smile as I see her, the way her body perfecting fits in mine, a kiss of her soft lips. The bed, unmade, has littered with drawings and articles, a personal project of hers. She leaves momentarily as I gaze upon a sketch, I take it. The window on the fifth floor offers a spectacular view of the city, the bustling people among yellow cabs like ants making their rounds. I can smell her perfume now, I know she has slipped on the red dress I bought her as a gift, for coming to see me, I momentarily close my eyes, I can see the way her body bends and shifts, fitting perfectly, like she does on me. ‘Ready?’ calls her voice, seductive yet soft, the perf

'James' written words by a wallflower

You can’t just expect people to fall at your beck and call James, she said. I know now she was right, deep down I think I knew then, but I guess I just chose to ignore that part of my brain, those thoughts that maybe I wasn’t who I thought I was and maybe I was, or am, a terrible person for it. I had always told myself I would move to California one day, and now being here, driving down the state route one highway, I feel like I have finally made it. Destined to be here, not stuck in some small town for the rest of my life. My torn copy of Jane Eyre sits beside me, the pages torn and dogeared, notes riddled between the lines, and my favourite passages circled. You know, I think we are really going to love it here Dude I say. From the crowded backseat Dude my gold lab pops his head between the front seats and pants. Smiling I reach over at scratch his head, I was laughing now, I remember almost perfectly. It was as if the stars had finally aligned for me, I glanced over at Dude

my wallflower life

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