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two tired children 11‘do you think that we’re the only generation to think we’re gonna be the ones to see the end of the world?’ he asked, leaning back into the red.two tired children 11
she sat forwards, touching her elbows on her knees, resting her chin softly on the palms of her hands. her eyes followed the strands of her hair as they blew about her face, cast onto the ground in shadow by the streetlight down the road.
‘what do you mean?’ she asked, her thoughts making her chin weigh heavier onto her fingers, bending them back past her knuckles. she could feel her thoughts swirling, rushing through her body like blood.
by ~aquene
two tired children 10‘i like it here,’ he said, smiling slightly as his eyes traced again the graffiti on the shutter of the shop across the road. ‘sitting on the side of the road.’two tired children 10
‘yeah,’ she said, her hands sliding down her sides to gently touch the red plastic under her legs. her fingers moved gently over the smooth surface, tracing the cracks and the places where people there long before them had carved names, words, messages. she kept moving her hands and her fingers found a heart, lightly scratched into the red. she ran her little finger around and around its curves, one way and then back the other. she wondered w
by ~aquene
two tired children 9‘some days i can feel all the sadness of this world. feel it weighing down on me, pulling me. like thick heavy stones under my rib cage. on those days i think about how we throw around the phrase, this world is so fucked. and then we forget what we mean by that. forget that “fucked” has no meaning at all, and that the sadness and pain and horror of what we have turned the world into is so far beyond fucked it is indescribable.’two tired children 9
he stared out onto the road, into the black tar between the whiteness of the kerb and the monotonous lines that plagued the way to anywhere. staring into it until his eyes blurred and h
by ~aquene
two tired children 8‘do you ever feel like life goes in cycles?’ she asked, leaning back from the curb.two tired children 8
‘what do you mean?’
she turned to face him, the front few strands of her hair falling across her eye and flowing softly across her face. her fingers reached around her back, clawing the concrete with her nails, pushing the dirt in and under against her skin.
‘like. cycles as in things repeating themselves. not necessarily exactly the same thing. same people. i mean more like, same contexts, and whatever. like patterns. over and over. new situations but the same thing, over and over again. around,
by ~aquene
Random Favourites
risk.you choke on it;risk.
you raise the lip of the glass to your own & drink until you drown, swallow the loose ends down.
cutting back on romance, like people swear to do away with cigarettes. crumpling packets, pressing one more to my mouth and swearing alright, one last time. you can't help it, when everyone's so willing just to hand you one, in a bar or a backyard, sneaking around corners to indulge and crushing out the evidence; we leave lipstick ash between the sheets.
i held your hand; your fingers grazed the small of my back in a gesture so intimate i
by ~yousaid
12,12your lover holds you down like a fever, & every night you to try to sweat her out.12,12
you are six years seven months eight days. broken backs & dirty throats, a table scattered with
six packets of cigarettes.
["all i want is just one", you say and dig your fingers into the cardboard,
crumpling them + throwing up your hands and the
contents of your pockets on to the table; the two of you find
gold coins enough for one more pack,
shrug sheepishly & hand over the notes and swig from a &n
by ~yousaid
3.42 am, prose kapow++i haven't slept in 40 hours.3.42 am, prose kapow++
in this life, there are no clean breaks. everything is torn car seats + clouds of blue smoke. everything is the way your feet hit the cold asphalt, the dead tint that a cop siren light gives yr skin, coffee mugs full of white wine; everything is modern life is fucking war. everything is going to the tavern in a trolly + free pineapple punch + walking to the pub wearing party hats & stumbling forwards; following our helium balloons. drugs in somebody's living room filled with kittens + puppies + inner circle rum. & the fucking pub is terrible because you're always in somebody's lap or be
by ~yousaid
Devious Journal EntrydeviantID
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: melbourne
- Interests: dressing up, playing games
- Favourite movie: lilya 4 ever, requiem for a dream, superstar, party monster, amelie
- Favourite band or musician: sonic youth,hole,babes in toyland,hanson,buckley,silverchair,jack off jill,catpower,smashingpumpkins
- Favourite artist: lizzy
- Favourite poet or writer: isobelle carmody, toni morrison, franz kafka, virginia woolf, jennifer buxton
- Personal Quote: 'i didn't know her but i know why she lied,, no, i didn't know her, but i know why she died'
- Email: velvet_painted@hotmail.com
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i said i was wearing black so you could
see me against the sky
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"don't regret doing things, regret getting caught"
[link] <-- cns stencil forum
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cramped and forgotten in my makeshift womb
Running nine miles a day, away from God's intent
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of course I care what you do while sedated
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