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Literature Text
Swing Your Hips,
And Giggle.
Darling The Attentions On You,
Bat Your Eyelashes
And Play Up The Charm,
The Spotlight Is Home.
Flip Your Hair,
And State That Witty Comment,
The Boys Are Under Your Spell.
Pout Your Lips,
And A Suggestive Look,
Honey Your Good At This.
Play Your Little Games,
Your Army Of Lovestruck Slaves,
Its Easy,
A Little Flirting,
A Seductive Smile,
Their Yours,
To Push Around,
Or To Protect.
But Either Way,
Your Disgusting.
And Giggle.
Darling The Attentions On You,
Bat Your Eyelashes
And Play Up The Charm,
The Spotlight Is Home.
Flip Your Hair,
And State That Witty Comment,
The Boys Are Under Your Spell.
Pout Your Lips,
And A Suggestive Look,
Honey Your Good At This.
Play Your Little Games,
Your Army Of Lovestruck Slaves,
Its Easy,
A Little Flirting,
A Seductive Smile,
Their Yours,
To Push Around,
Or To Protect.
But Either Way,
Your Disgusting.
Literature
how it echoes, disgusting
a poem about dirty rain
blood thinning with whiskey swallowing
hair thinning from the cancer;
places to hide and reasons for the heaviness
what weighs our brains down
vomitous and tangled;
a poem about the music
where it comes from, where it goes
and the loneliness
why it happens and why it stays.
a poem about gross bodies
once clean and once touched;
breathing air stale and dark
looking into her mirror to see
that she is crying, little girl,
lost; little bones, shaking;
tears in her kitten's fur.
a sadness that breathes
in the fog and can be heard
through the walls.
film over our eyes and
this is how we sleep,
this is w
Literature
congratulations, you just died
you fucked the Grim Reaper,
and i won the lottery. if this
is good luck or bad grammar,
i'll never know. i'd say karma
if i wasn't so homicidal, but at
least i don't screw entities (or)
screw the academy,
i'd like to thank you.
but who are you, exactly?
or rather, who aren't you?
well, i know for a fact:
you are not the love of my life.
you are not the life of my love.
you might be the death of me;
you could be the death of love.
perhaps just the love of Death.
i heard Death got married last march.
i wasn't invited. i never am. oh well.
i bet the wedding was like a funeral--
the Death o
Literature
Anorexia
Anorexia
Magazines and television
Model pretty girls
Their bodies perfect and so thin
Their hair all up in curls
I want to feel my skin, my bone
Changing into something beautiful
But sometimes I think looking like them
May take a miracle
I'll push around the corn and beans
All around my plate
Maybe I can convince them all
That I really ate.
I can see my bones now
Showing through my skin
Which has grown so very pale
Which has become so thin.
All I'll drink is water
And eat only cotton balls
To make my stomach think I'm full
Perhaps I'll make it after all
People seem to notice
And ask if I've lost weight
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Saw Some Girls Throwing Themselves At Some Guyss, Set Me Off. Its Wrong To Play With Peoples Feelings Like That, So A Laamee Poem Was Made 
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Comments28
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this is awesome
I hate it when girls do stuff like that just to get attention
I hate it when girls do stuff like that just to get attention