d6041429sea51 Offline

44 Single Female from Youngstown       118
         

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& Abreast to surrounding the shade Warm crystals

everywhere has got such effervescent catch For the right personal attitude Until you take into nowhere and release them of following nothingness in motivation, slowly from them

wouldn't you stake out for cackle with a wildfire and claim your absurdity on otherwise immobilized fashions

stalking me. some people could become enamored by a good race, and qualify the ends to take my means which only turn to bittersweet as you need all that you hated in the first place. Vernacular wired jaws to churn past the pubescent ulcer of tears in other's gardens.

But healthy lives don't require vicious carelessness and coveting mortal supplies of space we are lacking already. I owe you nothing.

_gmfj_

Trapt banned from FB for this image
it's from an album.

_gmfj_

Paul Folgia fb page

_gmfj_

green as succulents, all to form arms, begin tall canopy cover
this envy has me feel sick although assures, spelling naturally
I, who finds constant ongoing, with ever a guffaw that are spurn
deep inside fell, after such murk see here swimming in pools
in the shadowy growth of scorpion cloud, gardening the reaps
by this standstill we lead an illusion of whether fault reflects us
a ghostly glass lagoon with crepe, shallow creatures decadent
elliptical moon, angle resilient glows as repercussed currency
to shiver your flesh dry, under a luscious crown of thorny light.

Kingslayer, they call me

I'm on my this new bridge standing against my own back and swaying in a breezy airfield that takes my feet from my solid stance and I am thinking. What is it all to you anyway. But I am talking and toward your ears and I expect an answer.

There's no one walking in any direction. And I won't settle for being alone. As I look out, there are numbers falling in a dial that calls a wrong number but the right voice always answers and wishes I'd have just told them in person. But postage was expensive when I tried to send myself this package. I can't hear the volume from ground, belonging in a whispping hush behind the tollbooth anyway. Long distance, anything to be alone. And add never to sleep again to a running list.

The jostle. My pocket is full of state quarters. And the currency isn't accepted in a foreign land. The navigation requires binocular sight and no kind soul has a will to let me borrow theirs. Then a same song repeats and I can't find another reason to release the parachute, to save whom, to bury them echoes or survive the endless finding from certain hands I wish never to feel, and begin with strange adventures that dead-end again in unheated backseats, while you drive me crazy. Didn't hear that last gunshot but I heard the wedding was nice.

No room for backyards I'm a bustled zip-tied city of pure folk staring down into my mouth like I've shown a green face come cursing but those are the brakes. When I crawl from the shadow of another sense, will there be your kind to cover those prayers and sounds, also as has been done my mud people? Will you choose my skin to hide your sins or brush your own flesh with as you shiver in a winter's cold and bare back won't settle for the tastes of high maintenance you and that sister you fuck require. Does the only salvation you crave need a fang tooth for such desire I take of my own and to uproot sheer peace for a new, fancy tendency to allow me to go without hope in another breath, so stitching lungs from humming the emissions left by your tatters and bad vibes? Because I caught you.

And a fair game for all can't be played by one if never afforded rule into all. Wasn't the silence deafeningly true and not a single sound could stop your fire from burning out. Away go the ashes. Down falls the kind man to knees and lucid dreams as a woman you fear holds foundations about what trespassers speak, collecting herself to social eyes and subjected by disapproving know-it-alls. Someone's brother puts up with your memories. As for absence in moments you can't find, he is in love with anyone who isn't true, but found the woman happy all the same and you play with something to lose but can only pick pockets to gain. Isn't that what this situation required, an hour inside a glass, and a witness holding back for a brighter fire, just sand, throwing and riding it endlessly. Hoarding ourselves, held, always holding back to be seen and heard but a crowd drowns.

It drowns out the view...in pools of blood.

A little fast, are the days of our lives

I don't want bright lights to dull my eyes
My sight is fine, just set to see what I'm made to and the drive there taken alone.
I can't stand being sweet when I know I've made others bitter by the happiness I've kept. And I don't ask for something I can't give anyone else, in a way I've been in your place. And I've seen ahead to present day and knew it would not be as it could, I am better and know I'd like to go on this way, by myself. I can't stay and want to preoccupy the space before it all goes on without a point. There's a purpose to going and it's mine if I keep going so... should I see all the way to the very end, I will turn out the light and pretend I didn't so to say the finish is always known but this fight never ends as the lives are only meant for the living the meaning is in the travels. But the path is only halved in the reason we continue to look for the purpose, firstly, is each place where it can be found and only kept if we believe in it, in a togetherness.

I'm too young for this *##*

In my body, I'm spinning solo beneath the freezing moon, crushing daylights' rays, on time, jostled overselling and spent griefs hands doing dirty work

I'll have you to look the part before I act out and follow versions certainly more bigger than your fantacies permit,, because I grow wings emersed in provocation with tunes and lyrics laid spilt, being alive is all took, and mine made out where noise plays, better rhetoric than your mind blind and bawdy in still perditions hush, quest vs quiet, I can't lose gains.

There before my eyes grace descends unto my palms and closes at my ears least a tattle for tale one of legacy I surround my faultered frays facing your hoarding gat of wangle incensed uninheritances, bereaving theif of breaths

I'll not scold for the brow furrows at my sunny disposition and drags a wander for innocence lost across my velveteen forhead lest it left glistened, I but a name, I but a price, I but a maid and lass but eye for an eye. I confirm I stand and know generous accusations sound and state this strong, there is no way to mistake my voice, wether or not my identity unmasked. I swell with contempt at the vision leavening a mind taunted and fueled with falseness being unnerved by forgeries of face-first fists talking shit behind a robbed facade

I race as I run thoughtfulls off knowing I'm not bowing out, nilest to being behind the last, bouts until a fatal blow, unphased and relapsed upon new formations found in self confidence, I need not stop -to pause-but think I give a reflection finest of the temper I keep from tells that which be true, seen and heard without wishes uncurled I can never be duplicated, never a need to be excused, singular in honesty I promote my prose like promises and pull against the justifiably fine line and steady pain the knee bent to shame my fame.

Whole Picture I Remain, I will not be a posterchild for dereliction.

**I wrote this in reaction to learning I've been plagiarised. And still, fighting to get the truth out, and, my moniker to my possession. I've written and saved my mind from over and over and again over end. Because I know who I am. I was robbed at a young age of my art, work, and property to see an ingrate continue to use my likeness and penname. Recently stepping up and calling her out, she had the help of school librarian 25 years ago to take my persona away, but I won't be shunned.

I am alfa (c).

The Feels Aren't Equipped With A Parking Brake


So as my emotional gulp slaps a drum beat to drivelling sidesteps
I sway toward a silver fold in the colorless cloud under nimbus nods

Arrid noise or sounds of petaled flowers rotting my lunaria dust-ups
Lost, no loss of taste was washed-off by memories my tongue ropes

Torn will breaks loose of unnerving bravery and disrobes of shame
Mire for an eternity shaping, grappling cages in infamy upon edges

Upon a shore still but, moving a weak, a wreck and abhorred untame
Appearant hours blindness by scented breaking waves plethoric

Revert has yearns gutted, invested neither minds nor limbs
Pleases to suffer warping future dark blue knots, a madam charade

Scar-sunned sects ribbon starving awkward shivering cause casually
Happen have you divide unforced my heart divorced from assumings

Gripe about a FunSucker

This afternoon I returned home, and my snowman was crushed under the foot of my mailcarrier..

(Yes I posted and am upset over this)

Thing is,, it was close to the steps on the front porch..

..however. ..... .... ..

It's daylight hours,, could see it
You seen it before going in
You could've not walked thru my yard.
It's for sure the mail carrier
Here..he LIVES in my building,, He knows Us,, He was certainly here after I left... He's a nasty guy b/c I've lived around him
He has personality of a doormat but then cries for attention doing acts any monster would,, and thinks he's attrition in physical form from the hand of God.

You're a civil servant, and, IK where u sleep dude!
(not too mad anymore)

Must *Be* Titled

Believe all I wanted to do was make a day and find my way from many losses in sands fallen as lifetimes took away much the surface of all my purpose. I know I would be interested to alleviate and dispose of burdens, and struggle as it may have me, but cannot find anywhere to continue to come which has appropriate structure and cannot lid the pot from boiling over. So collect my blog and meet others however lack of nip and tuck to maintaince since gestatation I have new planes to be aware of and eyes that monitor,, which my attention suffices, no feelings lost. I don't plan to slay a promise.. I re-live the friction that rusts motivation to leaping ahead of the folds in the ticking hourglass, of the effect I cause.
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