Yes Please.

So I get this same dream every night. A dream so disturbed and horrific, it’s impossible to imagine.

No one is in the same situation. Nighttime tugging on pillows, and morning uncomfortable springs.

If anyone was to enter my mind at this state, they would run a million miles. So why do I find these thoughts so appealing? My dream features you, I wake up damp and depressed. If you knew, you would be so overly confused, you would want to chuck up and cry for hours.

So I am so sorry, and I promise you will never find out. I’m disgusted in myself. I love it, I love the dreams, I love the thoughts that run though my head when you walk in the room, I love all of it.

So don’t enter my head, enter my heart because that’s still sane.

I get chills up my spine in swimming’s and terrible issues in dirty bathing water.

I want to cry, get it out of my system. Make a move. But I’m crazy and sick. To the home for me.

More than you ever needed to.

I’ve been to the dark in my soul and still found light, managed to find you buried in a deep grave planted by fake loved ones who believe you belong there.

You will get a tomb and bouquet of roses, because I care.

I still get the same thoughts, the same dreams.

My sibling.

x

http://farismthrfkinbadwan.tumblr.com/

Blogging...

Oh yes...

x

THE OBSESSIONS (It's been a while):

Sam Eastgate- Pure SEX

When HE was hot (sorry but I will not use his real name, Cedric Diggory is the hot one in this) :)

Tom Riddle is SEX, But he is like 30 now and less attractive :(

Of course I wasn't going to forget these two, I love them so much :'D

This is...

WEIRD

Click It!

By the way...

I'm in love with StumbleUpon, what a great site :)

x

Poetry again...

Twisted Fixations

Feelings of happiness when were alone,

What will I tell her?

I feel as if I’m committing a crime.

But to mislead my organ, is the worst to do.

Tell me what do I deserve?

I’m in deep and difficult to escape.

Much waiting came out of this,

Were we very passionate?

I care a lot, put people first.

So why not you? We struggle for false hopes.

Something to believe,

I’m too young and I’m fragile.

When I finally expand and break,

I will leave nothing but a mere memory of what was.

But I shall enjoy my path to death, unlike my relation.

But I fear that I’m hurting, so I will choose neither and follow his impressions.

Finally I explode, choose the truth.

I’ll cut you all and drown you like a sponge.

I can’t deal with this much more,

I must confess I am weak and shall choose neither.

But before the end there is hate.

Hate for me, someone so cruel.

I’ll tell the truth right before I neutralize.

So shave your head, and make this much easier.

Put this on, I don’t want to stain your Chanel.

And she’ll put this one on because I don’t want to stain her beautiful face.

Now proceed, you know you will.

Stop telling me what to do, I’m me!

Why are you in my head when you should be here in my heart?

You overtake me, but you’re dead,

How can this be?

Explain why I’m turning into you.

Hands down I fill the tub.

Right to the brim, with little room for a lid.

Okay,

You first, with the blindfold on, no one would know.

My hand clasped her blonde locks,

Tightly, I struggle to push,

Please don’t fight me.

Then there it is, my prize,

My mistake.

Obsession:

Yes Erica Durance, just because I love her.

x

Poetry...

Ellie, You Know...

Ellie, I must tell you.

For someone who is somewhat a slut I feel as if that’s not truly me, that can’t be me. I feel an indescribable feeling. Too early for love, too late for likes. What am I to do? Seems as if everyone I meet wants one thing I admit I do too. But whenever you are to enter a room, I blush and weaken. I feel my body adjusting slowly to your presence and my heart and my stomach flutter.

Tell me what be the truth of my feelings, a cold and lonely home and a warm body and clothing to wrap and dislocate. A preposterous tale to share and a damp stick to stare and be startled.

The feelings mutual, cold and lonely- us both. Let me change and be changed for that I must change for.

Ellie, I must show you.

I’m bland and bleak; I want more that one thing from this situation.

Now may I lay a tender osculation on to ones cast? Because I’m ready, I’m unbounded.

Michael <3

x

GO>>>

HERE...

Here it is....

No, not a poem, but the start of an imaginative story. Written by yours truly, it is about a man (not very right in the head of course) and is set in the Victorian times around the 1850's (not written in old English language though).

I haven't yet completed it, I only started it today...

And there I was standing on logical grass believing in dust mites over my weak, bland body.

I choked and concentrated on my breathing. I live for weak competitors; it’s my home and food.

Starving to death, I reach out for the nearest substitute, oh not this, not this again! I lower my head in sadness. The bleak morning sunshine hit my fair face with all power.

The tans were sickening, oh bleak morning why be so cruel? I’m pallor and feeble and thirsty.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m nice. I need to be loved and digested properly in the right measurements. I feed myself, wait. I’m harbour of lies. I feed you ten, twenty maybe thirty a day.

I walked passed a man today, surely not much older than myself. He asked me how to get to Euston from here. Please don’t ask why I lied and lead him the opposite direction because I just don’t know. I feel very ill and I don’t look my best you know, I believe it to be acceptable for this case at hand.

The truth is I’m not meant to be here. I ran like a barbarian leaping for the kill. I’m dressed in the most comfortable fabrics, the only ones I could find. A yellowing shirt, blackened trousers. It doesn’t matter, I’m here now.

The passers-by stare towards my vacant expressions. They laugh but I don’t care, I am only human. I found this was the perfect time to ask myself questions about what I shall do. Are you now homeless? Yes, where are you going to stay? I haven’t the faintest idea.

I’m very much condemned to be impecunious for years to come.

I’m walking the streets of a harsh London area, on my way to nowhere. I hear the fracas around me, the music around me, a din, repetitious noise.

I take a glass bottle off the hard ground and gazed into it deeply.

:)

Heres the obsession;

Yep, Owen Brinley, you're in our hearts. You musical genius you.

Myspace it.

Facebook it.

Tweet it

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