The Girl Who Carried The Devil

She walked in silence,
walked with rage,
she carried an angel in her heart,
and a demon in her head.
God held her hand,
and Lucifer led the way.
He was her lover,
and her fate,
he whispered in her ear,
his silver tongue teasing.
She hoped on every word,
every syllable.
As she reached the black gate,
Lucifer kissed her,
and God looked away.

Look

Your gaze is haunting,
and the way your eyes touch mine,
it scares me to death.

Forget Me

Forget me.
I guess that’s what you should’ve done,
I am,
after all,
completely worthless to you.
Or some hateful bitch.
Somedays you make me feel like I can’t do anything right.
Today was one of those days,
and even now I’m trying not to cry,
but it’s no use,
because I know when I lay my head on that pillow that I’ll shed a tear because of you,
and you know what?
I don’t want to.
You hurt me and you don’t even know it,
if you do you sure as hell don’t care.
So just forget about me,
I’ll disappear like I’ve always done,
and you won’t miss me,
because you don’t care.

My favorite quote ever

Change *Sunday Scribblings 'Shine'*

I used to be afraid of myself,
of what I could do.
I trapped myself in helplessness,
in self-hatred.
I never knew that I could be so much more,
more than anyone could ever give me credit for,
that I could do what they were afraid to.
Then someone shined a light on me,
showing me that my flaws are my beauty,
my scars were what made me strong,
and I believed it.
I'm not afraid.
Now I walk into the light without fear,
without hesitation,
without hating myself.

Rest

Hello readers! I've decided to take a break from my writing for a bit because well, it's gotten harder to write and what I do write is disjointed and not very rythmic at all. Maybe I'll write next week, I'm not sure yet.

Lucyfaah

So this blog and my tumblr account have the same number of followers.... Iiiiinteresting

Kill the Messenger *Sunday Scribblings*

A disheartening message given,
a thing that sets your hope on fire.
The lips of the carrier bleed with despondancy,
'the news is not good,'
she warned you,
but you would not listen.
Now as the last ashes of your long held faith float away,
and you turn on the one dispatched to tell you,
tell me:
Would you kill the messenger?

Nearly *Sunday Scribblings*

I came to you 'as is',
nearly dead.
You nursed me,
you loved me,
showed me that almost dieing wasn't the end.
Now I sit in this empty room,
waiting for you,
thinking of your promises.
Did you break them,
or just nearly keep them?

Visual

When I think of my writing style I see a red silk scarf floating down onto the pale arm of a woman in a dark moonlit room on a summer night. Yes, I know I have a strange imagination... ;)

The Empty

I am the empty,
the void that calls your name.
I want you,
I need to swallow the light you bring,
cover it with my invading darkness.
I'll take your soul,
bend it,
twist it,
until you don't recognize the girl in the mirror.
Come to me,
follow your temptations.
I know your secrets,
that need to remain anonymous,
the desire for invisibility.
I am the Empty,
and I want you to become as I am.

Surreal

This is still too surreal to me. I'm with the one I love. I mean REALLY LOVE. It's not a lie, no numbness involved. I can't believe it. He makes me feel more than any other man.

The Lie

I'll show you a little lie that I've hidden in my pocket.
I'm not broken, oh, no, not me.
Do you see this smile?
The one sewn there, with silver thread?
It's only part of the lie.
Then there's the tape recorder in my purse.
If you push 'play' you'll hear laughter.
That was me once, I used to laugh, but not anymore, it hurts like a sucker punch.
Do you promise not to tell anyone?
Please?
I don't want people to know and take advantage of me.
I'm not broken, just patched together with that silver thread and an ivory needle.
Is that truly a lie?

Who are you?

Who are you to lie there, buried in the bottom? Barely concious to chaos, you raise to the flame, the apocalyptic fire. Suicidal in your desire, forgetful in your need. You're so cold, hidden in the deep, an arctic darkness. Who are you to stay here, waiting for warmth of a million suns?

Free*Sunday Scribblings*

I no longer feel guilty... I just found out that the entire time he was professing to love me and trying to control me he was sleeping with somebody else. I'm finally free

BIG

Big eyes.... Big heart..... Always remembered...... Never alone.....

Lost *Raw: Sunday Scribblings*

I think I lost myself,
somewhere along that long way.
I'm not who I used to be,
and I don't think I can live with that,
the sad part is....
I knew it was happening,
I was eroded away,
and I let it happen.
Who am I?
I don't know anymore,
I'm not sure I ever did.....

F.A.B.U.L.O.U.S.

FUCK THAT I'M FABULOUS! AND SO ARE YOU!

:)

"The cake is a lie..." I love Cleverbot

Fire*Sunday Scribblings*

Just watch it burn,
the things that you tried to hide,
the words you kept inside.
Lies that sear my soul,
you never meant to be honest.
There were never enough tears,
not to put this fire out,
the destruction that you started.
I don't want your apologies,
I just want to burn it all.

Pirate Facebook

I just pirated my facebook. I'm officially awesome. And no, I'm not vain, lol

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Those words were never meant to hurt,
the look in your eyes when they hit your ears...
It destroyed me

The Greatest Left Sock There Ever Was

Jeremiah Cornelius Hanes was darned in a large, noisy sock factory in North Canton, Ohio. He was darned for wear. He was darned for war.

After his darning Jerry was paired with a Right Sock. Samantha was her name, and she was as white as the cotton she came from. Her seam was sewn tightly and perfectly and not a thread was out of place. Jerry and Samantha talked all the way down the line to the packaging department. They spoke of their dreams, about the feet they wished to warm.

In packaging they met five other paired couples, and were sealed into a large plastic bag with them. Little did they know the hell they would soon encounter in the darkness of the shipping truck.

Properly packaged and boxed, the socks were put in trucks going to various parts of the country. Jerry's truck was going Illinois. A relatively short trip you might think, but it's not when you're a Sock and being eaten by moths. The screams were terrible, the pain of being eaten by the winged monters could be heard throughout the truck. Their box was spared but Samantha went insane from the constant screaming.

Jerry was heartbroken from the loss of his one true love to the deepest recesses of her own broken mind. But he vowed to carry on, even if the Right Sock by his side was nuttier than a Snickers bar.

Eventually there was light. The truck had stopped and they were being unpacked. Jerry looked around, committing to memory the people, the sounds, the smells and the potential to become dirty and unwanted. His package was carried ever so gently to the rack it would hang on until sold. The package sold quickly and taken away from the store that held so few memories.

Upon opening of the package Jerry was seperated from Samantha and the others. He was put in a drawer with older, bitter socks. One was an old Right Sock that had been used on both the right AND left foot.

"My name is Matilda, young one," said she. "And one day you will be like the rest of us. Old, used up, mistaken for the opposite Sock. It's a bad life."

Jerry looked at her incredulously. "My life will be used for glory!"

And so it was.

The first time Jerry was worn he was put on the left foot, but not in a shoe. He was worn to bed. The bed the human who wore him slept in had many stuffed animals. He knew they were Sock killers. He'd heard the Socks in the drawer speak of their villiany, yet he didn't fear them. Instead he fought them with all the courage he could muster.

Once the lights was turned off and the human went to sleep the stuffed animals crowded in on him. He fought bravely through the night wounding and being wounded. They went on like this for hours, but in the short hour before dawn Jerry's wounds became too much for him and he was torn to pieces by the murderous stuffed animals.

Jeremiah Cornelius Hanes was darned a plain cotton Sock, but died a brave and much loved warrior.

Can a website be on drugs?

I think Blogger might be smoking a bit of the green stuff, if you know what I mean. I logged in and it told me that it was having a problem with Java script. I then typed in the address for the dashboard and all of the blogs I'm following weren't on my reading list. I was not happy, especially when I had to refresh twice to get them to come back up!! ARG

Food

Food! Delicious food. Not only is it a way to sustain ourselves but it can be a canvas for our creativity and a fantasy for our tastebuds. Some of my favorite food is Italian. I love it so much that one day I decided to try my hand at cheese manicotti, a dish that I have never seen a recipe for. It actually turned out good. With a little guessing on the ingredients(it wasn't that hard) and a good amount of time watching Rachel Ray and Giada DeLaurentiis on the Food Network I was succesful.
Try that sometime with one of your favorite dishes from a resturaunt or the frozen foods section.

Perfect Teeth

She's the girl with perfect teeth.
Such a pretty smile,
stay for awhile.
Don't walk away and hide that gleam,
make my sunshine bright again.
Smile,
smile,
smile.

Writing prompts

I can't wait any longer!!!!! I need a new prompt!!! Please Laini of Sunday Scribblings hurry! lol

A Thousand Years

A thousand years before I see you again.
Lost.
You were the one to make my heart pull,
the one who loved me to stillness.
You are my dark singer,
my holiest pride.
You are lost to me,
as I am to you.

I'm here

Hello all! Love me