Timid Thought.

For literally the seventh time in my life, I have legitimately wanted and felt so close enough to do it...to want to punch a wall, simply because I was upset, and I for the soul-sake reason, was because I could.

The pain that I would feel, from not hitting a stud in the wall, but just demolishing pure dry-wall,...would wash over me, and make me focus on something simple as, physical pain; so I could for 10 minutes...in my mind, be the only thought, that dwells inside of it. That I could hoot and howl; and that is all that would be me, for those 10 minutes. I would be in a state of mind...where I am on the edge of regretting the decision all together --- But I don't...because I am simply, so involved, in the act of pain, and therefore too ignorant, to do anything. I would be too involved to even Think, of why I was in this predicament.  My pain would engulf all other reasons, for existing. And I would be lost...in pure pain...

And right now, it sounds so good... compared to the feeling of nothing.

Why? Why would I wish this pain upon thyself. Why...how do you feel this strongly?, enough that you want to hit a wall?...

First off. Hitting a wall, is plain stupid. Second, how do you know where those studs are in the wall? Third, what if you hit a stud, do you know how much pain you would be in? Far worse than pure dry-wall; we are talking, broken bones and hospitals. Fourth, why ruin your wall? That is pretty annoying to have to fix, I'm just sayin'...it is a figure of speech. Fifth, I don't actually hit things. Sixth, If anything...my beatings, are the ones jumping. Seventh,...and bumping in my head.

Why, how do I...feel this strongly?

First off...enough numbering-"'off 's." I feel this strongly...because I simply can. You must ride all of the emotions in the world...for you to have, experienced them fully, and understand their full scope of things to teach you.

This is where you ask, "Taylor...where have thou gone wrong upon?"


These are the reasons why:

I need someone in my life, and "atm"...she is a little, "afk", if you know what I mean...

I need someone, who will let me...help her, be a better person. I need someone, at the same time...that will help me grow up, and be a better man. We...man and woman: strive to be with one another...the only catch is, we don't know who among the sea of ladies...will be, only ours. Where is she? "Idk."

I know what is killing me...but there is nothing I can do about it, but wait. Wait for that right moment...where everything, is perfect, and it all comes together as a successful, couple. I have to wait...and well, so does everyone. But I will point out, that I feel jip'd that I haven't received my fair lady yet, when I personally think, just being honest here, that when undeserving guys get the girls first...so stupid.

I just got out of a relationship...we remain good friends despite the break-up, and we legitly, both agreed that it just wasn't..."there." And so we ended it, simple as that. Moving on...to just plain awesome friends. :)

But...fact is, I am alone again...and it kinda sucks. Yes I realize it, too sucks for everyone else as well. I am not ignoring that, But this is my blog, so shove off, lawls.

I simply need to find the girl for me, my "type" or whatever...I just have to wait for one of those perfectly, random moments happen..., we lock eyes and know that we are each others. Yes...I am a romantic, suck it.

But waiting...always nervous glances to possible suspects...nothing very concrete. You start to doubt...and create a self-fulfilling prophecy...that it is doomed to fail. I Quite honestly, don't ever want to feel like that again...If the next girl I see is the girl for me...the sooner the better. Call me a pussy-pansy-faggot-fucker...or whatever you want, but I greatly like the girls that I go out with...this is why I go out with them...instead of some other..."less of my type", kind of girls. Saying nicely.

So I am out on the look, for someone new...someone, just anyone who I can be me with...and they can be themselves around me and all, others. And be happy. That is all that matters at the end of the day...are you truly happy? Think...

My lust...for love, is so strong, that sometimes that I am distracted...by the little things, that I will end up hating about her, later. Hate is such a strong word?...isn't? Sorry, anyway...I tend to fall for the girls who like to cuddle, even in the darkest nights... :) That I empower her, to wreck me...so I, so we, can grow as a couple together. To me...that is just how this romantic movie, has to end, baby.

I have the girl I just broke up with, a girl I almost dated, and one of their friends in a tornado of hell in my mind. Lol. But it is all good. Really, it is. It was just the thought itself, was at first...timid for me. My real girl, is out there somewhere...I just have to find her, and she has to find me.

These are the really important parts, so listen to my words....



She has to be out-going...only in her own way. No one else's. She has confidence of who she is. She is a strong woman...not simply an arrogant one.

She has to make me laugh...because she is just a painting of a true angel. She is just so damn cute. Damn me to hell, she has to be cute man...she just has to. I think that is fair.

She has a weakness of sorts. As does everyone, and she understands this...but has to have my reassurance... because I am her man, and no else's.

She has to be honest...with me, and more importantly with herself. She is pure heart. And we will never go our separate ways.

She has to be a little bit naughty, but it is only for me. And damn...damn is she not so freaking Sexy.

She has to care...that goes without say. But I did it any way. For there are no exceptions here. And let's be honest...every girl kinda wants to have somewhat of this, as a real relationship for herself. She wants the man to be the man...but respect her in every way. True?

She has to be the simply...awesome mom. That everyone deserves. Who love her children...and teach them right, the good stuff.

She is open-minded. Each of us...books, for the other to read. We love everything.

That is the gist...of it.

I just hope that the right girl comes along for me soon...so I can sweep her right off her feet. We are all messed up pieces of dough...so give a little.

I would love to see many comments. Love you guys.

Damaged Goods.

It's always good to let the video run, and reread the post over and over until you get all of it, at least the poem, in this case.

Damaged Goods.

My heart starts to mechanically, break down.

I tinker, with interest...

Each significant piece.

So secure in its place.

I grind my emotion,

Through thought.

I oil, my pain.

And sear, its parts.

I drill my chips,

Of broken heart, away.

For a newly chiseled heart,

Is on its way.

Sweep the broken pieces,

Under the sway.

Toss the founders, away.

Sweep, child, sweep.

My feet, get cold.

And my hands, sway,

I hit a gasket.

Too much shifting-weight.

On top of my heart's, third wall.

Assembling, its black grease...

A leak,

A drop of glue,

On my cheek.

I howl in pain,

As a gear gets caught,

Out of its terrain.

Blood-blisters,

Repair, on my fingers,

While the sound of my engine's creak, lingers.

I grow wary.

I tonk and I tang...

But it will never,

Be the same.

And I cannot accept, this...

I must fix, my damaged goods,

Its kettling, mechanical, hiss.

-----------------------------------------------

I could possibly extend it if you guys liked it. I just wanted it to be a little shorter than my latest, as some longer poems, can get dull. So I apologize for that...as well as, the whole..."dark/moodiness/depressed/pathetic" theme, that has plagued my thoughts and latest post. I'm sorry. Just an involved mood for me lately. Hopefully...I can spice things up, with happiness soon. We shall see, just depends on how it goes. (Insert, Andrew's impression of Trey..."That was so vague, it is true within everything you could say." I Lawl'd, very much @ that, just by the way. It is so true. :P

Please leave comments, of any type...are welcome. This is surely as, clear as cut, as gold is gay. It's very sure. So leave them...fireal(a).

Self-Infliction.

Self-Infliction 


Brave little souls,

Youth...

Wicked smiles,

And their clambering hands,

Devilish, be the lot.

They are, quick minded.

They take,

And they coo.

They make your guilted heart, goo.

They are the imps,

Seen as just cute...chimps,

Of our world.

The core of the mind,

Taken for granted.

There for, a child.

They tinker and linger,

For the push to grow...

To fall into this "helpful society"-aimed, flow.

Past the path of ignorance,

And the devilish acts...

To one of not so much, disgrace.

For the good of the lot,

We must make the beast...

Feast...

On other children,

We must make the, untamed...

Into something of a human.

We make the children brush their teeth,

With the guts and glory over the enemy.

We force feed, lies...

To our children...

About happy, masked figures.

And only as they get bigger...

Will they learn,

Right from wrong.

Learn to behave,

When we here that gong.

Lassie bites back,

As a matter of fact.

The children rebel,

And spit the medicine,

Back into the eyes,

Of the devil.

Of father.

Of mother.

Of what we grow into,

What we feed on.

There is no cure for the beast that lies within...

We create,


We are,

Self-devouring, voodoo dolls.

Sweet Nightmares and Bitter Dreams.

I didn't want to ruin it with music. I'm sure you can insert your own.

 -------------------------------------------------

Sweet Nightmares and Bitter Dreams.

Memories remain,

Stained like water-colors to my brain.

Despite the loosening of the strain,

Around...

It all...

It all starts to waterfall,

Your belongings out of my drawers...

For I grow claustrophobic, swimming with these rejected somethings, behind their doors.

I seek for every inch of dust, you have ever touched, and made wet.

I throw away everything that my heart once clutched, and then I will be in wept. 

For the pressure is rising higher, as I shift through these sunken remains...

My brain absorbs, they transform...

I see it cast rain, to fire on my heart; oh her lashing eyes.

It is my sea enemy.

My sea anemone.

The residue from my safe haven...

from where I abysmally dwell.

Our reef only growing taller, as the rest of my room turns to the once was, now same.

Snaked in the shadow of my home, my clam...I weather.

Bursted bubbles expand, demeaning the air from my lungs, my time,...left in shame.

My light-lustful lips must kiss, this missed, aimed for my miss.

Her drowning, smiles, trick me.

This is only a dream.

Eyes fought darkness, and I awoke with fright. My sight starts to heal from the fray.

I reach the last and tiniest corner, where your last gift, you had ever given me, now lays...

I reach down, and pick it up...

Hold my breath for the last time, and throw it away.

In the void of trash in the trash-bag, I see, I am spellbound. 

A witch.

With one-hand, she wills her arm to wave.

I am being strangled by her, in her hellish-watery grave.

I light my lips.

For one more kiss, in my defense.

But only useless energy sits in this gut.

Our eyes lock, my mind amiss.

"O, do you want my heart between your teeth?"

"I have shed light on your depths...

With now no more reason to seethe.

Devour not my home, witch.

Her eyes, tore... to disdain me. 

To rid of,

And with lightning-struck ohms...

She awoke me.

For me, for the better.

To cleanse my erased eyes...

She slay me down.

She made me see.

That there was more than water, that drowns my being.

Light fire first, to light the source.

And through your slip'nslide veins...they will run their course.

That last gift, laying to be given...

Enough hope, that I shall surely rise through this pressure, of the abyss.

That I will not die, even though I feel slaved.

I achieve knowledge, through my drowning pain...

Let the damned girl open the way.

You can stay...

But you will die.

And this cannot be.

You are my colossal'ing, pearl.

But you must light your own fire, from my abysmal demise.

And with her own blasted soul...I cast her away.

Dreaming of drowning, my mind swims up stream.

My water-logged brain thinks, 

That it is my last time, in this instance, 

I swim for surface.

To the true, light-lipped grimace.

For she will revitalize, 

My empty mind of lies.

I am now nothing, I know nothing.

And starring down at the pictures...laying randomlessly in my bag of trash-mind.

They are like photographs and pictures,

Running and reeling, in my head.

If I had only opened my mind,

And said what I should have said.

This is what I think...

Right before I think, I am dead.

When will the surface break, and when will it, have lit my eyes with light?

...so I can finally let the pressure break from the sun.

Finally my dammed eyes open, into cries.

I must rid of all my wet water-color, memories...

So far, only of color-stained eyes...

Stained with a lustful, voided, soul.

My heart lies buried, where the white pearl remains, untamed.

Drowned somewhere in the abyss...but not where the, Ursulas, lay.

I gain focus of the lack of water pressure around my cheeks...

Through my fragile eyes...I am rid of the lies.

I breathe the new air, from the greenest grass on the other side...

My lungs explode as I am awoken...

Pulse-driven to renew my state...

As I realize that I am just on a day, at the lake.

I am a child, consumed by the bright-eyed beast of confusion.

That was all of my delusion.

I step onto conscience with a new instinctive stride.

My toes grasp the billions of grains of sand...

The same that give me my sanctuary.

Safe ground...

I get out of the wet, with an excited struck set of free-footed, unfrozen feet.

I get to reset. To get a chip.

But I must go back in later, if only, for one last dip.

It's fun to get a little lost every once in awhile.

And with a shining, reflected brightness...my lips spread into a smile.

I instinctively moved further up, the white sanded beach...

To my mother, for a treat.

Food, for a growing boy...so full of adventures yet to left, live.

"Thanks mom...I'll see you later, Okay!?"

"Wait ten minutes...you don't want a tummy ache. And Please be careful, there are water snakes, in the lake."

"Don't worry mom, no witches, can scare me."

"Oh silly boy...they are snakes, not witches."

"What?, is the difference?"

"Oh, just go play in the water.", says mommy.

"Bye mom!"

She innocently waves me away...

so she can play in the thought of the wet, dwelling dreams of being a boy.

She is only but all, a toy.

The toying girl...trying to teach, me.

As my mind finally puts you to rest,

I dive, now refreshed,

Into the cold comfort of the abyss.

Leaving my toyed being, on the dry, white sands.

My smile hardens into a grin...

A smirk.

I have to rescue my pearl.

My girl.

I accept, what I must achieve.

I grab the back of my neck...

I choke...

For a dry, tiny,drop of dust...had begun to rest, on my throat.

I had forgotten how to breathe...

Drowned in my sea anemone...

My most horrifying, nightmaric, enemy.

My pearl.

My girl.

My next daring witch...

That will hitch, our dark, water-swollen, eyes.

And blind me with those pearly-whites, of fright...

And make me smile, with delight.

And as I attempt to soak,

my own breath from the water,

in those quickly bursting bubbles of mine...

I realize, that I have no room, for wasted time.

To find the next fish, in the abyss of this lake...

 

This dream...

This day.

This breath.

I breathe, and everything is okay.

I took a deep-diving breathe in...

And swam into the plain brown murky lake.

And then painted dreams of sweet nightmares, and bitter dreams.

I let it all out...

I let it go...

All of the sorrows of the day...

The pure sticky paste of the past,

The sorrows and whispers...

And all of the masked figures and playful actors.

It just wasn't meant to be...was it?

And it was never, anyone's fault.

It is just what is...

It is all that remains...

This next swim in the world, of the unknown future.

Let me say that I, I!, have reached for those specks of light,

dancing inside her eyes.

Have YOU!?

So tell me no more lies.

So reach it.

Grab that dammed handle to that dammed door...

and go into that next room, where the fish fray, and feast.

Intake the next gas from the green grass,

Her scent.

Take it into your lungs, that lay outside, of that door,

That lies awkwardly, in front of you.

Seize it.

Carpe Diem...Is as true, as it sounds fishy.

Erase your blinded eyes...dusted...by the time that has passed.

See the beauty, in true color.

Seize her arm to stop her frivolous fray...

But do not let her drown.

So I tied the bag of mind tricks, and sealed its secrets in my heart...

In my soul.

I grabbed that black bag, of water-colored somethings...

Barbarically "YAWP!" 'd.

Turned, and walked out that damn door.

--------------------------------------------

Please leave comments EITHER here with an account or as Anonymous, while leaving your name so I know who you are. OR, simply comment on the Facebook link itself. They are greatly appreciated. Any and all thoughts, let  me hear them. Knowledge of readers...make me smile.

Isop

i

is

sop

isop

i so p

perfect

isoperfect

I is so perfect

op·pro·bri·um

--- And that is where I go wrong. I take a simple thought, in this case the letter "i"...and run with it. Just, whatever pops in my head at the time. Seemingly random thoughts, but somehow, they are...important. I build off of a thought...but sometimes, I think too much.

And That is one way, I go wrong.

But this is where we can all go wrong sometimes. We don't ever really know what we are looking for. We are constantly searching. But I may have found an answer. At least one of them anyway. At least...one, for me. Now my results of this test I made, are solely my thoughts. What I thought and wrote is just a gut feeling, not necessarily the truth about them.  It is only one piece of the puzzle. But this example may shed some light for others possibly like me, but certainly it is not for everyone. I took 4 types of girls, and compared them to me and my personality...and how I feel towards that type of girl. On the spot, I started to write. I just let the thoughts flow. Again, Don't take offense to what I say, please. There are pros and cons to everyone. Gut feelings can change...but I find that they don't do that too often.

Type 1) A Girl from Roedean - She is innocent. She acts like Mother Earth. She doesn't...grasp, that she is using you. And for that, she is cute. An..odd, innocent-cute. You find caution in her forgetfulness, and strength in her emotional commitment. But you end up regretting and hating even...that she can't really see youu...as you really are. Again, you are nothing but a necessary tool. Can you feel the love...through that icy grip, while you hang over, that mountainous slip? Will she save you? Or will she let herself, and you, fall into the abyss...of nothingness?

Type 2) A Girl from Shipley - Too much Finkle and Einhorn here. "Einhorn is Finkel. Finkel is Einhorn. Einhorn is a man. EINHORN IS A MAN!!! AAARRRGGGHHH." Aka: Fickle TOO much here. She owns you, or she think she does, because...she feels that she has to own you. And if she can't have you, you are simply, just not good enough for her. She will run to you, pathetically...in a mess. You feel guilted, in her sufferings. You see that she is only...lost, in her own world. She needs, something...and it happens to be you this round. You feel the need, to give her a chance. But yet what you haven't realized...is that is, the city train. Everyone, and their neighbor, has gotten aids off that sticky, cheesy, junk...figuratively speaking. Her, "cuteness" will keep pounding your brain, and give you nightmares of a tranny with a mustache, on a cold night. She get's, two thumps down. Simple answer: nah man' nah. I don't roll like that.

Type 3) A Girl from Hounslow - She is looking for something, that she has lost...it's hers. But that's the thing...it's hers. She owns you...but she feels like she has to have you. Makes you feel special. You see the halo above her head...when reality, it is only the sun in your eyes that is above her. She is not the one. You have a soul. And your soul is owned, by you. She can be your, Oh, shiny., or you can be your own coin. She seduces you in, like worthless meat. And that is when you must say, "I am not chicken." Be your own man, and slap her if she tries to control you. Because that slap...is about as worthless as a single drop in the ocean, compared to her, evilness. Don't date a, Cruella de Vil. That is just "Baaaad..." for business.

Type 4) A Girl from Whitby - She is slightly bored. Disappointed even. You are a play-thing. Easily remembered, easily forgotten at times. She regrets you...She puts you down...and picks you back up again. You will be All that she ever sees. She has a constant, need...of some sort to have you. But is that enough? She can see you, yes...but only as a little Lego-man. You are, and hold a piece of, past innocence. Something that she doesn't want to let go of, that she can't not simply...put down. Somewhat obsessed. Childish even. She is the never reachable ghost, because she is only a shadow, a black silhouette. The black veil, that you instantly regretted un-concealing. You become the playful kids, that run down the werewolf's tunnel, on a dare...on a simple, curiosity. I begin to run, as fast as I can out...for it is now, that I realize...that I had interrupted mealtime. It was a good idea on paper bro...but then again, not so much. Maybe next time? Super.

Who wins?

I personally, would have to choose...a Roedean girl.

First off, the "types" of girls are named after cities in Great Britain. If you didn't catch that. Why is that relevant? Use your imagination.

To me, Roedean girls seem the most desirable of the 4. This may seem obvious, or not depending on what you think. But regardless, my thoughts make sense to me. Therefore, what I believed to be the one type, that I'd pick over the others... it ended up coming out nicer, sounding(?) than the other types of girls. Consciously, did it happen? Not really. But doesn't it just make sense? Yes. Are there other types of girls? Yes.

P.S. "This P.S. shouldn't have bothered."

First Story of: Fickle, and Ish. -A Typical Fight.-

Let me paint you a dream. - Taylor.

----

---

--

-

You don't hold me like I do.

...to you.

Babe, let go.

                It's not your turn,

                Ladies first, remember?

But you said---

Forget what I said.

But---

No! Forget it.

So what do we do?

You are the man, remember?

We have two choices...

Just pick one! We have to get out of here.

I'll go first, for you...darling.

No...silly. Ladies. First.

Then go...

No...not, yet.

And the reason for this, is...because?

I'm not ready.

Of course you aren't ready...

What do you mean by that?

I mean, you are phat.

WHAT!? How Dare You!

No...baby, listen, please, I beg you. Baby. You aren't, fat. You are phat. See the difference?

I'm leaving...

I thought you weren't ready yet?

Well I am, now.

Then...go.

I Will!

*Head down, "bowing" her, out the door.*( # )

Hmppt! *"Proudly struts out the door.*

* ( # ) *

*"Powerful" whip around, /point.*

...

Now you listen, here.

*Thoughts in head.* /Emote, Ish! I've Had It!*

Ish!! I Have Had IT!

*Thoughts in head,* Ouch that hurt a little more than I remembered, said Ish.

What did you just say?!

Uhh...*Thoughts in head,* It Slipped out a little there didn't it? Way to go genius, said Ish. Oh. Nothing dear...

What just, "slipped out?"

The thought...

What thought?

Well...all of them, I suppose. /in perfect "Jim Broadbent, in Harry Potter, as Slughorn."

You know, you make me feel lazy, Ish.

Well...if you weren't so god damn fickle, Fickle...Maybe, you could get something Actually done around here for once.

For once!?

I slipped out. *Awesome, "That's what she said jokes." Except that, if she is slipping out...the question is: Where sir, is she slipping out. Hmm? Well maybe, that is what makes it so great...that it makes you ask a question...it makes you think. None sense, we don't do that Sir,*

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!

What?

*A noise that reminds you of a, pterodactyl,*

Hey! It's my turn...no butting in!

Fickle...right now. It is My turn. *Bitch,*

ISH! I'm going to fucking kill you.

Actually, Fickle: You will "attempt" to kill me, and then Right before you stab me in the back!, you stand on my Fucking Heart! Cunt! And, You went out of turn.

Don't call me a "cunt..."

Just did.

Well I certainly know that Ish! I'm talking about...don't say it, again.

MAYBE! If you would Just stop playing Mind-Games...And fucking ASK for once...instead of ASSUMING!, that I know what the Fuck you are talking about! I can't Fix it, if I don't Ever Know what it is, that I Need to FiX!

Well...for starters, that last "X" needs to be "tinkered" down to a "x".

Don't Belittle Me!

I didn't "belittle" you...

You just fucking did! And before. You said, " "tinkered" ",  instead of just...well hell, "Fix"! And then again, you belittled my "Belittle Me!" into just, " "belittle" "...

You think, Way too hard, babe. You are Killing me, Ish...we are in a mess, babe.

I ruddy well-know we are in a mess! And, no..."babe", you are killing me /in perfect Ham Porter: "You're killing me Smalls!", in the Sandlot.

Wha?

It's me and Nhi's...little inside joke.

The Whore from work!?

She isn't a whore, Fickle...babe, com'on. She isn't like that.

And see...here you are now, defending her. I bet you are doing a little more than, "having these little, "cute inside jokes" " that I've been hearing all-about.

Why do you do that?

What?

"All-about."

Why not!

Because.

Because...you know you can be Really irritating sometimes, Ish.

I know I can...but that is only because you can't keep up. But so can you, too...there babe.

What was that middle part again, "babe"?

See. Told you. You can't keep up...

I know exactly what you said! I just can't believe that you had the audacity to say it!

Don't talk to me about, audacity. And by the way...this is like the 4th time I've gotten you off topic with one sentence. But that is okay, Fickle...because I love you.

I know you do...and no, you haven't gotten me off topic "4" times.

*Ignoring the fact she didn't say, "I love you", back.*That is your favorite word isn't it?

What?

(^--Her second favorite word.) Nothing, babe.

Yeah well there is, Yours, too!

What?

(^---My third favorite word.) "Nothing."

Yeah, just stand on me again...Please, I want to know...what is my favorite "second" word? /in perfect Narrator: "Please let me have it... *Please*!", in Fight Club. Aka: Edward Norton. *By the way...probably the Best movie, ever. Literally...and I quote,  "First, you have to know, not fear, know that someday you are going to die. Until you know that, you are useless...it's only after we've lost everything...that we are free to do anything.",*

You are SO annoying.

Well...

Well...what?

My "third" favorite word...is?

You know That one silly. It's the "second" that you don't know.

*OMFG* /face gives him away.

Don't give me that look mister...and your "second" favorite word is, "babe."

Oh...don't call me "mister"...if anything, it is: Mister.

See...that time...you "belittled" yourself. And "babe?," why am I not your "First" favorite word? Hmmm? Why...,lord, why? Is "nothing", your favorite word. "Nothing" is better than me huh?!!

Babe...

Damn right, "Babe"!

Listen(4th)...babe. I love you...I would never put, "nothing" in front of you, "babe". Plus...just because I ~might~ say something more often than another...doesn't mean that I particularly like that word...better.

Well...apparently, nothing-about "babe" is any bit better...than "nothing".

You are doing it again...

WHAT!?

The whole..." - " thing. You know...

No...if I did, I wouldn't Have to Ask, would I!?

The Only things you "ask" about is: Frivolous things...you Never "ask" about, what the Fuck you want done. Instead...you play mind-word-games! And only, Expect!

You Do it too! The whole, " - " thing...

I only reason I did It, was to show What you do first! That it is so annoying, baby. Honestly. Just don't do, " - ", anymore. It just isn't...a good thing. Especially to me. Just, say it...just ask it. Baby, I have No problem in doing the things you might would like done...I just have to Know, what they are. You have to ask me...you have to tell me.

I shouldn't have to...

/rawr/

I'm just saying...

I know you are...but you are missing the point, completely. I still love you...

I know you do...

There, that. Again.

Well...

...Well...

I like you.

And I like you too. Very much so. But...

But what?

/face-palm.

You did it again.

Never mind, babe.

 I like you...

I know you do. *Thought's in head: "Yeah, it doesn't feel so good, does it?".* --- *Thought's in head: "Yeah! No, slippage!",*...Fuck.

What?, "slippage"?

Nothing, babe.

That is what I thought. Hey!!! You said "Nothing" again! You can't do that!

I said "babe" too...doesn't that count for something?

Why would it!? "Nothing", still beats "babe"...a lot!

I'm trying, baby...I really am.

Well it's not enough!

Yeah...I thought you'd say that. Go look and stand on the mirror some more babe...You are fucking beautiful, and you don't see it. I'd rather you...stand on me, and put me down...any day; than for You to Ever feel, that you aren't beautiful. Because you are.

You are just saying that...

I'm saying it, AND I mean it. But you don't get that part...all you see, when you look at me, is a mirror; you are starring into your own eyes. You don't believe that you are the beautiful girl you are; when I look into Your eyes...and you run from me...to a mirror. You don't believe me, and that is what kills me the most. You are phat...you are missing the point. You have a tendency to stretch things out...make them more complicated than it Really is. You only focus on the bad, and believe that it clearly must define the rest. You hear something...and just go off that. You never see the big picture. You think...just because I said, "big picture"...that I meant that You...were "big". Babe. I would never. You are beautiful...you just get caught up in the fine print that defines you. You make the fine, a big deal...make it, well...not so fine. The fine line, is not the point. The point is...you miss the point, a lot. You just do. You hear the first thing...and run off. Like the rabbit you are.

And you!, the turtle...always "hiding", pathetically in your shell. Your, "blanket"!, as you call it.

Fuck you. Leave Unique alone.

Unique, sounds like another one of your whores...more like, Weird. At least it sounds more, manly. Right? Isn't that the point?...to be more, "MANLY"?

You wouldn't know manly...if it hit you in the face with a side of: a Cupcake and a DIET COKE!

/emote, He literally shivers...from her Death-stare.

Baby...I'm So fucking sorry. I didn't mean it.

You did TOO mean it! AND!!!!!!!!!!!  You Did IT! again! The whole, " - " thing.

SOMETIMES, it I.S. useful, and comes in-use. I love you...babe. I do. Please, don't kill me. You wouldn't want to kill me...trust me.

Why not?

Well...actually...not that you could. I can clam up faster... than you, on a cold night...when all I want is a BLOW-JOB! ... Plus, You couldn't get in my shell, even if you wanted. You are simply, a rabbit.

TURTLE!

Damn, right. *Bitch.*

WIPE THAT DAMN SMIRK OFF OF YOUR FACE ISHHHH!!!!

Sorry(which is actually...the word he says a lot. Or so I think, and that is the problem isn't it? That I Think....WAY too Much. The problem: I thinks: much.), babe. It won't happen again. *Yes it will*

STOP SMILING!!!

Can't I be happy?

What the Fuck does happy have to do with SMILING every 5 seconds. You are SO freaking moody.

First, :think about what you said, first. How does "smiling", relate to happiness? Really, babe? Really? Blonde, much? Yeah. Actually...second thought: Why Do we smile when we are this...so called, "happy"? Why couldn't we "/frown" instead? Why not? Third thought: I much rather smile, than /frown. It is just too much work. "/frowning" is just too much work. All that..." / " 'ing. Too much, for this turtle. I make those, " / " bounce off my blanket. ting! Ting! ping! wing! ...Weiner. Lawl. Lawl @ Weiners. Hahahaha. I actually, " l-o-l "'d, writing that. Looks like the enemy fliers in Star Wars. -->  " l-o-l ". Get it? I hope so. And that's the way...lol was born. Because, it is an enemy space ship. It's just...funny. /shrugs.

You are Such a kid.

Fuck you.

You wish...

Fuck you.

Must I repeat?

What?

What?

/lawls, so easy.

Stop playing games!

You are the one playing the " - " games with me! Let me play with my, " / " games. They are fun to me.

Well maybe, my " - " games are fun to me!

If they are...you are one, sick...*pause* god, I like you. *(Cheerleader = *pause*. " * " are the pom-poms on either side. " pause "...is a little girl out there, hands out. P for pink...girl. Anyway. )*

Uh huh, that's what I thought!

And I don't even get a, "I like you." back that time...Jesus.

Christ...?

                ^ What?^

                         V

                                      What were we talking about?

"Nothing."

ISH!

What? Jesus woman...I was just Telling you that we were talking about, and WE WERE talking about, Literally, "Nothing."

Don't get smart with me!

Well...don't be so.../args.

Dumb?!!?!?

Hey...I didn't say that.

But YOU THOUGHT IT!

OKAY! I "thought" it. But I didn't SAY it, and that is the DIFFERNECE. That is the POINT " . ", you have been missing.

/screams...starts into tears.

*Thoughts in head: "Fuck." "We fucked up." "Yup." --- "FUCK"!  /guilt. <---fucked up guilt right there, eh? She is the one with the whole problem of the " . ", and Every guy gets to feel guilt. Awesome. Where. Do. I. Sign.up? /sarcasm. /Let's go make this better guys, Com'on!, we have a lot of work to do, Boys!",*

WHAT!? Stop Yelling at me!

I'm not "Yelling" at you. I was yelling at myself. Baby. Please. I am so sorry.

Yes you are...You "Yelled" at me. You kept, "Telling" me. And it was just too much.

Baby...?

What?

Telling you..."telling" you. Is not, "...yelling..." at you.

What was the, " ... ", for?

/face-palm.

You are impossible, and so hypocritical.

/face-palm.

Stop doing that...

Babe...I'm going to bed, this is getting ridiculous. /walks away.

Hey! Wait...

what?

Don't, "what", me.

What?

Don't get an Attitude with me!

Baby...what am I waiting for?

I don't know...aren't you the man and have "a-l-l" the answers?

/walks away.

Baby! Wait for me.

I thought you were going first. Ladies first, right?

Right.

Well...go.

I WILL!

*Bitch,*

BABY!

What?

Nothing...

See...? It comes in handy, right? I'm just saying...

Hey that is my saying!

What?

"I'm just saying."

Hey...I'm just trying it out. Can I not try it out?

No.

Why not?

Because what is yours is mine, and what is mine is mine.

I'm going to bed.

Me too.

I love you.

I like you...*/walks up the stairs first.*

*/follows suit, with a sad, sad, face. Maybe...maybe. Maybe, tomorrow. Tomorrow. Yeah...that'd be nice. Maybe it is all worth it.../all smiles.*

Something that I missed.

It is the guilt I feel of betrayal to the ignorance of you, 

That makes me constantly search for you, to capture...and woo.

I want you to stop listening...and kiss me.

I don't want you to listen...I want you to kiss me.

We are like vapors, trying to hold each others' hand.

We consume each other, as polar opposites stand.

What makes me ignorant, is what makes her shy.

She will never say hi, but I feel that she says, "bye"...all the time.

She wants me to chase her through the smoke trap, that I set.

She wants to be found, I must hear her sound.

Whether it be a scream, or a moan...

I must hear her raw groan.

Her being,

Is my motivation.

Her mobilization,

Is my reeling. 

My lack of , "duh."

Gives her the time to comfort me,

To get the stars out of my eyes,

That her glow, reflected...and made me say, "Oh."

We fall head first,

Like paper planes and playground games...

Into our reflection in each other's eyes.

That we see ourselves, truly.

One a frightened girl,

The other a beast, lustful...and drool-y.

She runs from me,

I only want to hold.

To know.

For her to want to show.

I do not know why.

But why not?

He runs at me.

He is hunting...

I'm scared...

Of him.

Why not?

He runs at me.

So I run from him.

The girl runs away,

Like she willed.

But he over-skilled.

The guy catches up and has to say, "Hey!"

Her comfort restored by his unveiling.

Into a man, who is simply wanting...,to talk.

His confidence, his strength...rejuvenated.

They finally see each other, for they truly are.

Love at true, first sight...

A twinkle, a star. Something in their eye.

They doubt, they smell lies.

A trap, that I set...off.

So she whispers, follow me.

She invites me into the shadowy abyss.

Her beacon is what guides me.

It is her reason...

That it was her.

Her. That I. missed.