| Writer's Block: Conversion Rate |
[Jun. 18th, 2009|04:08 am] |
I'm constantly looking to explore the universe outside the box. Satisfaction can not be found in any one religion. Truth and peace can not be found in one religion. If you say to yourself that you've never had questions or disagreed with a scripture I think you're wrong or delusional.
I respect all religions and study them to better make my spiritual life whole
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| Writer's Block: Grimm Question |
[Jun. 4th, 2009|11:39 am] |
Peter pan by far. I was in love with Neverland. Not necessarily the 'never growing up' part but more so with the direct connection Pan had with Neverland. When he left to the human world it would grow cold and snow, become barren. In his return the sun would shine more bright and warm the land, melting away the snow and bringing the fruit of the universe back. Pan is the Greenman.
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| PISHURE TIME |
[Jan. 23rd, 2009|12:00 am] |
OH LOOK ITS ANNA LIKE.....LAST FRIDAY OR SO BEFORE A DRAG SHOW
THIS IS ANNA'S GIRLFRIEND VALERIE
ISN'T SHE A SEXY LITTLE THING?!
THIS IS ANNA'S MAN INTEREST BRENT. HE'S GOT A MIGHTY BIG GUN.
BANG. |
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| The Inspection |
[Jan. 13th, 2009|09:52 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  chipper | ] |
A short ditty.
Sage eyes stared beneath the glass lenses of her delicate crescent shaped glasses as soft fingertips caressed and probed around in her corset. Lydia’s tongue was caught between pouty lips as she diligently continued her inspection despite hearing the door crack open. From an off cast glance she could see a masculine figure leaning in the door way. Vespertine had a quizzical expression arched in his brow, a hue of humor circling in his eyes as he watched for a few brief moments
Vespertine: Lydia, my hot little biscuit, what exactly are you doing?
Lydia hadn’t bothered to look up and for a moment Vesper pondered if she’d heard him in the first place.
Lydia: Hmmm? Ah, yes, Vesper darling. I’m inspecting my boobs.
Vespertine: Would you like assistance Madame? It would be a pleasure to bare such a burden of breast inspection.
Lydia: I wouldn’t dream of subjecting you to such a foul and unpleasant exploration of these fine mounds of femme fatale.
A short smile was followed by her silence as she continued for just a few more seconds before politely folding her hands in her lap as if to be courteous and pay attention to the obvious wanting of her attention.
Lydia: Well while you’re here, would you mind ever so much as to lace me back up. Though I doubt the complaints of a topless woman would be many, I’d like to have a shred of privacy—and it seems the only thing left remaining a mystery to England is my body.
Vespertine: Pity darling, pity. In another life you could have been a burlesque beauty. I’m sure those delectable masses of feminine divinity bounce something furious in a good and proper fucking. I should dream to find out someday.
Lydia: It sounds as if you’re already educated in the movements of my body, in particular my breasts, when it comes to vigorous mating rituals. Have you been watching?
Vesper scoffed and rolled his eyes, pressing a pale hand to his already bleach white shirt.
Vespertine: Would I ever be so wicked and perverted Miss Teatime?
Sarcasm dripped from every word that rounded past his lips. Lydia couldn’t help but chuckle, through recovered quickly with her own sass.
Lydia: Oh goodness forgive me for implying that you, Lord Oliver Vespertine would be anything less than the up-most fashion of a Gentleman.
Vespertine: Quite all right darling, I would be ashamed if you held any other image of me but the venomous deviant adulterer I am. So to the lacing then, kitten.
It would be a few short strides before Vesper was placed behind Lydia. Laces roped in neat lines across her back giving him a glimpse of the curves that was her waist. With a steady hand, Oliver reached out and caressed the warmth of her porcelain skin, running his nails down her spine with a certain lust behind the touch. Goosebumps rose over her skin in a quick wave, washing a shiver down her body. A sinister grin was his silent response as he smoothed his hand back up her back, curling around her neck.
Vespertine: Oh my little succubus, a cruel Mistress you are of a man’s loins. Your pulse quickens under my touch, throbbing into my fingertips. Can hear that? That my beauty is the drumming of your heart in your throat.
Lydia couldn’t deny the bitter sweet anticipating growing in her stomach. Would he advance in spite to her obvious game of cat and mouse? For years she had denied Vesper that heat that rest in her bloomers. He was such an easy target, it was hard to deny herself the pleasure of witnessing his strain and agony.
Lydia: Do you enjoy this, my arrogant stable boy? You should, because it won’t happen many more times after this. Now would you care to lace me and explain to me the reason for your company? |
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| Love Letter |
[Dec. 8th, 2008|07:03 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
December 6th, 2008
Dearest,
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly or breathe under water? Simple and childish curiosities often become the most adventurous tale in our mind of imagination. But can you remember the greatest adventure of them all that from the beginning was the fantasy of every young girl? Can you remember the blush that innocently rose to your cheeks when your father would hold you in his arms, a tight embrace and confess his devotion and adoration upon you? Do you remember the soft giggles you sang to him when Father would assure you that you, forever and always will be his one and only girl? To a Father, a daughter is a priceless gift that is to be cherished and adorn throughout space and time. To father, you are the singular most important woman in his life. Do you remember seeing the passion between Mother and Father, lazily lying in bed on Saturday morning as you bounce through the sheets? Now tell me, could you bare the wait for a love like that?
I fear to confess my heart on these pieces of paper, for I may break our state, irresponsibly. Our, you mouth, voice silent still as your eyes eagerly read over my letter in question. Yes, our; his and I. Dare I speak the fragile existence he and I coincide in? Oh but I must, the swelling of rapture is nearly unbearable.
Could a creature such as he is, be any more perfect? I disregard my sin for I believe it truth, but if God is to be the only perfection than he has incarnated inside mortal flesh. Divinity is known through his touch, delirious joy is found in his words of affinity and humility in his being. Bragging, yes that is exactly what I’m guilty of, bragging of ultimate sanctity. I can hear your skepticism of the perfection I’ve come to love but I implore you to see; flaws are the foundation of the sublime.
Words fail to properly compose an accurate description of him. How can one possibly expect emotions to be so simple and careless? For those that seek this impossible task, it is asinine to attempt the irrational. My heart, untamed in spirit cannot help but to shudder into submission when he speaks of sweet nothings and timeless passion. Challenging, always superior in intellect, I feel myself rising to the occasion, to better myself as an individual so that he may one day accept me as an equal. Though he expresses such sentiments as if I could be as accomplished, I fear he only flatters me, though not intentionally. “Blushing does not suit you, it’s unbecoming of you” he says as if I have reason and right to take pride in myself and the minimal achievements I have collected in my life. I can see you question my belief in my personal self worth, and adequately so; I’m a tattered and ordinary flower that does not stand beyond the rest. Though on frequent occasions he praises me as a snowflake; different, serrated and eloquent.
In truth I could only hope to be so dear to him, I often find myself in a window of doubt, the rain of disappointment threatening over head. When in his company I illuminate, radiating the purest sensation of desire, happiness and fulfillment. I adore his will, determination and abilities. His intellect, charm, charismatic mannerisms and gentle interior caress me in a state of felicity. Damned, for I am desperately and hopelessly in love with him. I was careless and sloppy with my emotions, my heart so neatly pinned to the collar of my sleeve and yet he has cradled it mercifully. It was as if he understood the delicate state in which I released myself and so casually accepted it. Was this a natural state of circumstances for him? I also question if this reaction to my surrender is natural. All that is left of me is my sanity which is quickly fleeting, though I hold no fear.
Labels are unnecessary and imply boundaries, restriction and the inability to progress and grow. Though I call him friend, my heart calls him lover and deliverer of serenity. Through him I find myself a more enjoyable and worthy creature. For him I am exactly what is desired; perfect.
So, I write this to you as a stranger in hopes that I’ve ignited hope in the most hollow of places, that you too will find such freedom and splendor.
Sincerely
Heart and Soul |
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| Harry Potter Character |
[Nov. 10th, 2008|02:52 pm] |
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So if I were being casted as a Harry Potter character, who would you all cast me as? |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 16th, 2008|04:28 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  awake | ] |
So here it is.
I'm letting go. My life has just begun. I'm so ready. Won't you come with me?
If you come with me you've chosen to be apart of my future. If you're staying behind you've chosen to be apart of my past that built me.
If you want to stay, comment. If you don't comment I will remove you regardless if we talk on messenger.
Blessed. |
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| Dear People |
[Sep. 5th, 2008|03:15 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  cold | ] |
Friends and People;
I've had it. I've seriously had it. I wanted to take some fucking me time. I signed off all my messengers or stayed invisible when I wanted to get on. I avoided chats, forums and open conversation alike to get away from people online. I avoid people in my real life day to day activities because I have some issues that need to be addressed at the home front and internally before I deal with anyone else.
But some of you didn't seem to get that concept and got really selfish with me. You continuously text messaged me, called me or if you saw me pop on, flamed me with IM's. Not only that, some of you had the nerve to BITCH that I was pushing you away....-you-....lets talk about that word for a moment....-you-. THERE IS NO FUCKING YOU! THERE IS A YOU ALL! NO SINGLE PERSON WAS LEFT OUT OF THE "GO THE FUCK AWAY I WANT ME TIME"!
I'm really hurt by one of you. I guess we're even now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 31st, 2008|08:36 pm] |
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Do not call me, don't txt me, don't do shit to contact me tonight. Fuck all man. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 23rd, 2008|01:07 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
She sat there, pale and motionless as the salty breeze from the isle's cliff side broke against her frigged body. A faint whisper of winter ran up her spine kissing her milky skin with goosebumps. Sage eyes flickered from the worn spot her stick had drawn in the ground to the horizon the sea hugged. Endless it seemed, the pale blue darkened grey waters that brutally rushed against the rocks below. Some days she sang like a siren to the watery grave as if to calm its anger but relentless was it in might and strength. Wisps of silvery blond tangled as they floated across her face, a face worn with pain. Youth aged by the cruelty of man kind. Had she become the Little Lily of the Isle's become tainted by hatred and malice? The politics of man were immaterial, bickering over possessions not their own. Was it too extraordinary of an idea to accept that man owns nothing of the world but himself? As the arguments crossed her mind, the hope for humility and growth faded. A silent tear fell from the corner of her eye, drawing a soft pink mark of pain down her cheek. Her lip would not quiver with sadness nor would pain brush the inexorable reserve of her face. Sayuri had become nearly as grey with grief as the statues of angels in the chapel. Man had abandoned their oath to the ancestors.
Shifting under the shaw that hung around her shoulders, Sayuri brought it closer to her neck to conceal warmth. The sun was fading from the sky and the dusty clouds of stars could just faintly be made out against the darkening sky. Luna would rise slowly from the other side, waning in all her ivory glory. Tonight she burned with a halo of red as if sharing in Sayrui's heartache. Though the hour was becoming late she didn't want to leave the moon. Was it lonely at night with the stars so far away? Was it as lonely as the little Lily?
Sometime during the night Sayrui had fallen asleep on the moss covered rock she'd occupied, the sound of the ocean below and the veil of the pale moonlight as a guardian easing her to a relaxed slumber. He had watched her from the forest silhouette. She had sang a soft lullaby before drifting off as if to sing the Moon to sleep. How delicate her voice was, quivering every so often when the words touched her soul. A Goddess with petal soft flesh and vibrant fire stone eyes...so fragile and beautiful. Micah's dark locks shadowed his eyes which seemed to burn like hot embers, the only light that emanated from the shadowed corner of the forest. Stepping out of his cloaked hiding he crept soundlessly to the exhausted creature. Kneeling by her, Micah watched as her body slowly rose and fell with sleep, a soft pulse in her neck beating to the rhythm of a steady heartbeat. It was faint...did she pass when asleep and awake in rebirth? Reaching out, his slender fingers curled around silky strands of her hair. Soft, fine and faintly smelling of rose.
'Dream, and I will be waiting for you..' Micah whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her neck. Sayuri inhaled deeply and murmmered as she released the breath. 'Angel..'
A dark figure under the falling blanket of snow. Snow? Winter is a few months away...it is warm still...but snow? Hello? I can't see your face! Who are you?
Micah turned to face her and she stopped. The snowflakes melted against her cheeks yet clung to the tips of her eyelashes, and veiled over her hair.
You're so beautiful...What is your name Angel?
Sayuri reached up to caress his cheek but he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Smiling he touched hers instead
So soft and kind. 'Wake up Little Lily...the sun is coming'
What? But I just..
The dawn broke across the land. She hissed with irritation as the light blinded her momentarily. |
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| Exodus |
[Aug. 7th, 2008|12:12 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | chipper | ] |
Exhausted. I mean just worn the fuck out really. A colorful expression (fuck) of my dissipating energy.
I've come to realize that along the last year or so I've lost myself. I've carelessly given too much of myself away to people that just sucked and sucked and took and took and gave nothing back. Not that I really -expect- anything from anyone but I retained a hope that humanity or at the very least my 'friends' would be less greedy and more giving (karma, 3 fold give) than the dictators and tyrants of USA (the most greedy I feel). Much to my disappointment that simply wasn't so.
I've also put a lot of 'myself' into personal relationships and real life tribulations, desires, and goals (meaning it happens behind the screen, not over the damn internet) that I've just forgotten everything that makes me charming (if I ever was), fun and unique. I've forgotten how to simply enjoy though I feel that word 'simply' or 'simple' could never really apply to me with much truth. I don't think anyone tries to over simplify themselves. If anything I think we become more complicated creatures either by the experiences that shape us (or break/jade us) or by the desire to be more than what we are. The need for perfection, striving to succeed and challenge the rules of limitation, thereby breaking away pieces of ourselves (generally valued, polished pieces) only to end up at a pseudo finish-line asking ourselves 'What the fuck?'. Its in that moment you become most fragile and for a few reasons; Reason one being you've just realized that this meant to be journey to self discovery was nothing but time wasted being everything you thought you wanted but realized that it just wasn't you, your nature, or anything that really appeals to you, and reason two your left with a petrifying sense of vulnerability. Everything you were before you started is either lost, or not the same. This isn't always bad. Sometimes these journey's of self discovery actually turn out to be a time of death, rebirth a rebuilding for a new life.
All in all you'll never make your flaws go away. I can't say I've ever met a person and loved them for their perfections. I can't say I've never admired them either for their flaws. But really, our flaws make us more unique and valuable than our perfections, and really, nobody is perfect at anything. Polished maybe...but perfect is such a simple term to describe simple things which with little regret I say to you; human-beings are not simple on any level of their divine and wondrous creation.
I've wanted to be perfect for so long and when I'm finally asked 'Why perfect?' I have no fitting answer. Hell, I have no answer really... I just have false ideals of what I could be but none of which are plausible in this reality. I want to be everything a person could need from another human being but then I'd have the entire world at my doorstep wanting to be my friend. I want to be everyones 'perfect' friend, but then I would cease to have flaws or be anything human like, and I am nothing close to divine. I am simply put a human being; flawed, jaded, but extraordinarily unique and worthy of life, liberty and love.
I have friends that could stand in front of a mirror all day and nit pick at every physical flaw and I can guarentee that 9 out of 10 times the majority of their flaws are physical in their mind. But why? Why is the physical in such a high demand for a false ideal of beauty and attraction? Why must women have narrow hips with generous breasts, long flowing hair, unblemished skin, a porcelain complection and the most expensive (generally the most ugly too) clothing thats considered up to date on to be beautiful? Why are women sluts if they explore their sexuality and lust but a man is simply being a man? Why are we held to higher standards that are (generally (I seem to be using that word a lot)) based in vanity and corrupted visions of what is and isn't acceptable for anything possessing a vagina? Men are just as valuable and worth attention as women. It may seem like I'm projecting a feminists point of view on this, but really I'm not. I just want to be equal. I strive for act of equal treatment among genders! I want men to be held to a higher standard than what society places it at right now.
I want to be desired for my mind and not my breasts. I want to be wanted for my better qualities as a human being, and not for the clothes I wear. I want to be beautiful without the necessity of makeup. I want my tattoo's to be loved along with the rest of my skin. I want my piercings to be accepted and loved just as much as any other part of my body. I want my curves to be seen as beautiful, sexy, lovely, gorgeous and above all...perfect.
I want to be a better friend to my friends and family. I want to be a better daughter, sister, and grand-daughter to my family. I want to be better for those I love because they deserve the best.
So, self discovery? Its always a success no matter what you come out with. I didn't say it was the success you or I was looking for, but if we can learn from it and apply it to life, or at the very least to our next journey of discovery-- you succeeded.
To all of my friends, past and present:
I love you. I'm sorry for where I have failed and I celebrate in triumph for where I have rightfully succeeded. I wish you love, light and may days of laughter through out your continous journey in life. You have been, and will continue to be the inspiration for self betterment, the belief I have self worth and the givers of many happy, joyous memories.
-A |
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| Digital Apocolypse |
[Apr. 28th, 2008|08:08 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Work | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  creative | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Gym Class Heros- The queen and I | ] |
Leave a comment to be added.
Less than three.
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digitalroyalty's journal
