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blkmagicrps:

MILK  &  HONEY                POETRY  RP  STARTERS  BY  RUPI  KAUR. PART 1.   FEEL  FREE  TO  MODIFY  PRONOUNS.

❛    we  are  capable  of  love  but  choose  to  be  toxic.   ❜  ❛    you  have  a  sadness  living  in  places  sadness  shouldn’t  live. ❜ ❛    i’m  difficult  to  forget  and  not  easy  for  the  mind  to  follow.  ❜ ❛    you  are  a  war.   ❜      ❛    every  revolution  starts  and  ends  with  his  lips.   ❜ ❛    the  truth  is..  you  make  me  speechless  ❜ ❛    he  makes  my  tongue  so  weak  it  forgets  what  language  to  speak  in.  ❜ ❛    what  drives  you  crazy?  what  keeps  you  up  at  night?  ❜ ❛    so  that’s  what  you  do..  you  command  attention.  ❜ ❛    you  look  like  you  smell  of  honey  and  no  pain.  ❜       ❛    i  always  get  myself  into  this  mess.  ❜ ❛    i’m  a  dreamer  and  that  will  be  the  death  of  me.  ❜ ❛    you  were  so  distant.  i  forgot  you  were  there  at  all.  ❜ ❛    don’t  mistake  salt  for  sugar.  if  he  wants  to  be  with  you.. he will.  ❜        ❛    you  were  temptingly  beautiful       but  stung  when  i  got  too  close.  ❜ ❛    don’t  come  here  with  expectations  and  try  to  make  a  vacation  out  of  me.  ❜ ❛    the  thing  worth  holding  on  would  of  never  let  go.  ❜ ❛    love  made  the  danger  in  you  look  like  safety.  ❜ ❛    i  don’t  grieve..  i  shatter.  ❜        ❛    when  i’m  angry,  i  don’t  yell        i  burn.  ❜ ❛    we  began  with  honesty.  let  us  end  in  it,  too.  ❜ ❛    your  voice  alone  drives  me  to  tears.  ❜ ❛    like  a  broken  promise..  let  it  go.  ❜ ❛    our  backs  tell  stories  no  books  have  have  the  spine  to  carry.  ❜   ❛    you  were  a  dragon  long  before  he  came  around  and  said  you  could  fly.  you  will  remain  a  dragon  long  after  he’s  left.  ❜ ❛    the  world  gives  you  so  much  pain,  and  here  you  are  making  gold  out  of  it.  ❜      ❛    you  split  me  open  in  the  most  honest  way  there  is.  ❜

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@zhestokiiy

OBSCENE     /    THE    PAD   OF      his    thumb   pressed    into    the    bone    of    her    hip    as    if     to   leave     his    mark    on    this    unexceptional    world   through    her     (     *     THAT    IS    HOW    WE     WORK    ,      isn't    it   ,      darling    ?       you    scratch    my    back    ,      i    scratch    yours       /       MAKE    SENSE    of    this   world    for    me    ,       i'll    BURN    it    to    the    ground   with    your    NAME    on     my    tongue     and     your     fingers    at     my     THROAT   !       )      until    a    laugh     has    one   brow    ascending    at    the    defamatory    sound    and     teeth    relinquishing     their    POWER    upon    the    pulse     that    runs     through    both     their    bodies   .     

THIS   IS   MY   MOTHER   TONGUE     /      the    suspicious     SILENCE    that     took     him     years    to    articulate    without     a    WORTHY    partner    such     as    she   ,      and    how     surreal     an    experience    it    is     to     have    the     dead    language    heard    when    it    fails    to    leave    his      teeth   .       his     eyes    scatter    towards    the    sound    system   ,       hips     bucking    from    beneath    her     (      *     YOU     COULD     KILL     ME     RIGHT      NOW       /       do     you    know     that     i     would    let     you    ?      DO     YOU      CARE    ?      )      while    his    fingers    seek    purchase    at     the     dark    strands     on    the    back    of    her    head    ,      as     though    to      reign    what     makes    him     need    her    so      (     *     I     COULD     NEVER     TAME     YOU       /      i    wouldn't     even      try    )       the    pursuit    of     MEANING     that    sends    him    chasing     her    across     continents   for    the    one    they     give    each     other    .        ❝        I    LOVE    THIS    SONG   .    ❞

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the first time i dissociated it was the most natural thing / like stepping out of my own skin into / something less me and therefore more comfortable

Jody Chan, from “The Things We Both Know,” published in Minola (via lifeinpoetry)

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      ❝   YOU’VE  GOT  YOUR  PASSION    and  you’ve  got  your  pride  ,  but  don’t  you  know  that  only  fools  are  satisfied  .   ❞      independent   original   character      /      written  by  mikel  .

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ry:

            ❛    NEITHER.  ❜ he spoke with ill poised confidence, his arms folding with ease across the broadness of his chest, his grin positively wicked. he had always enjoyed WORD GAMES such as these, unadulterated joy taking claim over his face. he could feel elation at finally speaking to someone WORTH speaking to, and there was a slyness that became his grin when his lips parted next. 

              ❛    I am the DRAGON breathing fire. i am the wicked thing that comes to take beautiful things away from beautiful places simply because i want them. some would call me a villain, in any such case, but are we not to do and have things that truly bring us HAPPINESS? am i to condemn myself for the sake of LAW placed by others? why should they get to wield my happiness in their hands? and heroes. heroes are a BORE ; much too self righteous. ❜ never mind the LITERAL sense to his words, ryan’s eyes flashed, a quick little mark of the flame that settled neatly against his bones, before fading into the mass of infernal blue that was his gaze.

            ❛    but now you have me asking myself —       whom do i stand before?      ❜

      ❛      SOUNDS  LIKE  A  FAIRY  TALE  TO  ME   .   i  love  fairytales  .       ❜      HE  HAD  LISTENED  WITH  INTENT   but  not  amusement  ,  watching  the  bead  of  arrogance  in  the  other's  eye  that  he  would  recognize  the  same  way  that  he  does  himself  in  the  mirror  .  excitement  gone  hand  in  hand  with  an  unsettled  rise  within  at  feeling  really  looked  at  ,  but  nonetheless  unseen  as  usual  .  chin  perched  on  the  heel  of  his  hand  as  he's  yet  decided  whether  or  not  the  dragon  understands  the  sentiment  .      ❛      I  CAN  BE  ANYBODY  YOU  WANT   me  to  be  ,  big  boy  .  though  most  people  go  with  jim  .  i  like  the  way  you  think  .      ❜

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moran.

stupid that he tries to   put up this front,  as if jim might be fooled by his actions and voice  ( his words bleed with dishonesty                          why does he even try to fool him ?  why does he make that attempt if he knows it will fail ?  sebastian hasn’t a clue;  it feels like instinct at this point ).  defiance feels  CORRECT,  even when the truth is more along the lines of subservience.  when jim lowers his hand from sebastian’s tie,  the ghost of that tension lingers like a bad dream,  replaced only by the lips at his throat.

❝  i don’t…  ❞  he trails off as he swallows,  lips tugged into a thin line.  his eyes swim with confusion;  he doesn’t understand why he’s not yanking himself away,  shoving jim off him,  throwing another punch at his face                               why does he remain when that voice skims his skin ?  ❝  i don’t…  I DIDN’T ASK FOR…  ❞  he’s trying to defy.  his voice wavers a little,  but in places it holds firm like a levy.  ❝  you shouldn’t kiss me like that.  ❞

ALL  SMILES  WRAPPED  AROUND  THE     throat  and  hips  moving  to  the  unheard  ,  slow  rhythm  to  ,  honestly  ,  very  simple  seduction  that  he  didn't  really  expect  the  sniper  to  fall  for  this  early  in  the  game  .  he  responds  only  in  quiet  hums  of  disregard  against  sebastian's  neck  for  a  while  ,  until  ,  you  shouldn't  be  kissing  me  like  that  .  jim  does  a  lot  of  things  he's  knows  he's  maybe  shouldn't  do  ,  but  this  isn't  one  of  them  .  if  it  was  ,  sebastian  shouldn't  have  an  issue  with  wrangling  jim  off  of  him  in  resistance  .  he  pulls  away  from  sebastian's  neck  ,  the  edge  of  his  mouth  tilted  in  amusement  . 

❛      HOW  SHOULD  I  KISS  YOU  ,    then  ?      here  ?                        ❜      ANOTHER  HUM  ,  HIGH  PITCHED   and  louder  than  the  others  as  the  thumb  of  his  dominant  hand  brushes  against  the  bottom  lip  of  sebstian's  mouth  .  a  barely  there  caress  ,  like  the  tone  of  his  voice  .

❛      HERE  ?      ❜      THE  HAND  LOWERS  WITH  HIS    gaze  ,  meeting  between  sebastian's  legs  where  he  starts  to  mend  his  palm  against  him  through  the  fabric  of  his  trousers  ,  the  weight  of  him  in  his  hand  worked  against  with  subtlety  having  been  absolutely   forsaken  .  tongue  slipping  past  the  grin  on  his  mouth  to  swipe  against  the  lower  tier  of  his  lips  ,  he  glances  back  up  to  watch  sebastian's  face  with  an  intensity  that  could  turn  sand  into  glass  .      ❛      YOU  JUST  TELL  ME    how  you  want  it  ,  tiger  .      ❜

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the DEVIL & the DEVIL’S BITCH.  by mikel & chuckles.

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I don’t just want to take your breath away. I want to rip it from your mouth and keep it locked away between my teeth. You can only have it back if you kiss me again.

                    MEME ; literary sext starters !

      THE  DEVIL  IS  TOO  CLEVER  TO      recoil  from  heavenly  bodies  or  flinch  away  from  the  wet  velvet  texture  of  tongues  speaking  the  long  dead  language  of  affection  .  small  ,  labored  breaths  like  cries  of  would  be  thanks  ,  if  jim  could  breathe  .  instead  ,  the  words  melt  from  his  mouth  ,  and  more  than  words  ,  there  is  meaning  which  envenoms  the  sniper's  blood  with  every  kiss  returned  ,  and  jim  will  push  that  meaning  further  down  his  throat  every  second  he  lets  jim  inside  until  he  has  sebastian  telling  himself  :  come  back  .  come  back  .  come  back  .

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Tick-tock. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock.

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new blog, @pendrove ... my dumb little trans son.

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literary sexts vol. 1 poetry meme

Literary Sexts is a modern day anthology of short love poems with subtle erotic undertones edited by Amanda Oaks & Caitlyn Siehl. Hovering around 50 contributors & 124 poems, this book reads is like one long & very intense conversation between two lovers. It’s absolutely breathtaking. These are poems that you would text to your lover. Poems that you would slip into a back pocket, suitcase, wallet or purse on the sly. Poems that you would write on slips of paper & stick under your crush’s windshield wiper. Poems that you would write on a Post-it note & leave on the bathroom mirror. Treat yourself, a crush or a lover with this lush gift!

source and amazon buy link.  

I will be providing select short, sometimes edited, poems for a texting/”sexting” meme, but not the whole book itself.  If you enjoy the poems provided, please support the collection whether it’s the first volume or the second.   Or look into the works of the various contributors and see if anything else they’ve written is to your liking!  

Feel free to add to and/or edit these sentences to better suit your needs—but remember, many of these work best in the context of texts and/or love notes instead of spoken dialogue.    —Lizzy.  

Mark me like a passage from your favorite book, then open me there again and again.

My skin is full of flowerbeds and you know every way to make them bloom.

I am tracing the knobs of your spine like the map of my favorite continent. You are all the places I haven’t visited yet and I mark each one off with my teeth.

Your hands unzip me one breath at a time; there is not room beneath my skin for all of you and I spill over the edges with a sigh.

You take apart my heart in pieces with your mouth, but the splash of your tongue against mine feeds it back to me. It tastes sweeter coming from you.

You opened your mouth and spoke the language in my blood.

You kiss me and there aren’t sparks. There’s an entire orchestra in my chest, playing staccato on my heart strings.

My hands are nomads, my dear desert. May they never find rest.

Being small things, we understand this as our humble attempt at thunder, at setting the world to shake.

Delicate work. Like peeling kiwis. My tongue across your skin. Mellow flesh against my lips. Your taste always in my mouth.

How a storms needs to feel the earth how the earth wakes to the pelt of rain how the ground is quenched is how I need you… 

My hands were glaciers I never dared to move freely, my fingers icicles. Your touch thawed me to excavation. I want to dig into your warmth.

Kiss me like white bread, stick to my teeth even after the whiskey. I want memories of your mouth lodged beneath my tongue to wake me at two in the morning, hungry.

I want you next to me, in my bed, your clothes making friends with my floor. Love me hard enough so we wake up the neighbors.

Your hands peeling that onion, thumbs and forefingers pulling skin from skin—they are sacred. Let me kiss them. Let them bless my sinning chest, let them peel my lips apart.

I don’t want to be your harmonies anymore; I want to be the melody you scream when your heart is starving for love. I want to satisfy your hunger.

Show me the parts of you that nobody else ever wanted to sleep with. Show me it all with the lights on.

You, darling, are Vesuvius. I won’t see you coming. Erupt. Wreck me. Leave me ashes leave me Pompeii, leave me outlined into your history forever.

It’s not so much that I want to kiss you. I want to relearn vocabulary words from the shape of your mouth. All my poems are yours first.

Kiss me blossoms in the summer, lover. I want to taste the succulent sweet of your peach tree smile. This time let Adam take the fruit from the garden.

Surge into me as a downpour, as the pounding waterfall which makes swollen rivers flood, as the sea.

The happy ending to this night: you tug my hair and lightly brush your hand across my lap. Don’t forget how resilient I am and how I would bend for you.

Even my lungs are in love as we breathe together.

I don’t just want to take your breath away. I want to rip it from your mouth and keep it locked away between my teeth. You can only have it back if you kiss me again.

The gentle friction of your hand on my thigh is enough to strike a match inside me. I lean into your lips and the fire blooms and spreads.

You are an undiscovered continent. I trail my fingers down your mountainsides. Ten explorers digging for buried treasure, I want to take it all.

My body is a gospel and you are my first quivering hallelujah. Your breath leaves your mouth like a prayer and washes over me like faith.

My hands are hungry for your flesh, desperate in the way that rivers empty themselves over waterfalls.

I peel back your skin to see if we have the same scars. I follow the map of your veins back to your heart and press my palm against yours to tangle our lifelines.

I hope to breathe in you. I hope my body will be the blood your roots drink.

We commit sins in holy places, fold ourselves between pews like dirty pictures tucked into a bible. Pant each other’s names until they sound like scripture.

My tongue collides with your collarbone like a meteor careening across the cosmos, and I taste the stars you are made of.

You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.

You, benevolent god, legs splayed like instruments of creation. I, blank slate of the universe, kneel in wait for you to fill me with your hot, honeyed light.

My hands are suntanned tourists without a map whose desire compels them onward to explore your golden cities by the light of the stars.

The moment between your thighs where I become a devout follower of your existence. That hour which passes in slow seconds of soft skin, as I lay my head against you, drifting, drowsy with love.

Your grin is a flash of primal fire in the dark. Somewhere deep inside me, something hungry wakens and shifts, uncurls its insatiable tongue.

I have been thinking of how I want to be touched by you, with hands that will play me like piano keys, with fingers that will make a symphony out of me.

You till the soil of my need, my lips a blood-red flower bursting open with the first wet flush of your heat.

When it comes right down to it, all that nonsense about hearts syncing up feels like a hallelujah with our bodies pressed together like praying hands.

Every time, you peel back my skin, pry open my ribs, and feast on my insides. Every time, you make a meal of my heart, and every time, I let you.

You’re not one for poetry or sentimentality, so I’ll just say that I’ve dreamt of being the motor oil trapped in the grooves of your weathered hands.

I ache for your hum between my legs, the purring of motorcycles on winding highways: wind in my hair, and romance in losing myself to the sweet, revving vibration of the engine again and again.

You smile and it’s like sunrise. Something inside me Wakes up, stretching.

I float away in cool sheets against my burning skin, and you are the sea guiding me beyond the realm of earthly things.

My lipstick spills over your mouth and trickles down to your chin, your neck, pooling into your collarbones. We love like crushed grapes in wine country.

You’re kissing a wildfire up my thigh and I am tracing the landscape of your jawbone like a sculptor. My hands were made for this.

The rush you give me: The way a blade of grass must feel when splashed with a cloud’s cry after days of screaming for rain.

We are the fall of Rome, all fire and fighting. We collapse into each other like the pieces of the Parthenon, kissing like gladiators, loving like rebuilding.

You creep into my head like a river rushing for the sea & a cosmic digit of fingertips flash over me.

You are pressing against me like I press flowers against the pages in my book. You are kissing my neck and it feels like the start of forever. I want to touch you until my palms burn.

The wet of your mouth rains down my neck like frame, the soft heat of your tongue burns the apple in my throat. We are practiced at this love that asks angels to cover their eyes and turns devils shy.

I melt into the gentleness of your fingertips. Your tongue presses me open like the summer fresh flesh of a perfectly ripe fig, all juice, seeds and pulp.

The small of your back is refuge, is veldt, is summer heat. And I am predatory snarl.

I can’t brush out the taste of you; coffee breath, cigarette smoke, and all. Mouth to mouth; Our shared vices linger on each other. Your salt still lives in my tongue.

I’ll take you quiet as the bones in your closet, love as softly as a whisper. Holding your tongue like a secret.

You smiled and lit up like the dusk. I sank to your lips like the sun against the horizon. We made the day stand still.

I want to kiss you until you melt into me, ice turning to water. I want to drink you deep, and warm you from the inside.

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HENNYWAYS , i'll be working on the blog for my oc.

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  MI.CKEY  MI.LKOVICH’S  ICONIC  LINES  STARTERS.    (    w :  homophobia,  violence,  slur,  nsfw,  drugs    )

“You know where I live if you have a problem.”

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

“Is there any slim jims in this shithole?”

“Fucking right you keep your mouth shut. You better keep it shut.”

“You fucking suck!”

“You say that again and I’ll rip you tongue out of your head.”

“Fuck the police.”

“C cup? Bitch, you wish.”

“You wanna chit chat more or you wanna get on me?”

“You wanna spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?”

“Whatever. Liking what I like don’t make /me/ a bitch.”

“My uncle works at the foundry, he’ll dump the teeth in the chrome plating vat.”

“I need help killing somebody.”

“You think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Sorry I gotta go kill your dad.”

“Does this violate my probation?”

“Got any fuck left in you or you dump it all on that faggot’s ass?” 

“Yo, you wanna fuck?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying!”

“Speak fucking english.” 

“Gotta run an errand; you wanna talk, you gotta walk.”

“Can you jerk your fucking husband off every once in a while?”

“What 17 year old kid isn’t horny?”

“No, it’s illegal in this country.”

“Can you not make a fucking s…? That’s making a scene!”

“We could do more damage if we have a plan.”

“Do yoga, listen fucking Taylor Swift, i don’t care, just get out of the fucking car.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t have to do it. It’s my idea.”

“How many Johnsons you squash?”

“Yeah, that’s real nice. Must really clear your mind watching the sunrise after a long night of gargling old men balls.”

“Well, this ain’t Macy’s, bitch, you ain’t window shopping.”

“Grab my hips, pound my ass.”

“Figure she’ll be out fucking dudes, why can’t I?”

“How many blowjobs did you give yesterday?”

“I don’t care if you’re mid-pump, come with me!”

“Whatever happens in the ass, stays in the ass.”

“Don’t worry! We’ll get a dick in you as soon as we can! Fuck.”

“Russian whores know how to run their mouths when there ain’t some dude’s junk jammed in there.”

“You’ll wait for me? Fucking lie if you have to, man.”

“You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do?”

“What you and I have makes me free.”

“I just want everybody here to know: I’m fucking gay.”

“Sure, got nothing better to do than watch a bunch of pruney queens slap their sacks against your ass cheeks.”

“Learn a unique skill or shut the fuck up.”

“Guess what we’ve been doing, daddy? We’ve been fucking!”

“I suck his dick, I fucking love it!”

“No one knows what the fuck you’re saying.”

“We just tell them we’ll pay them and if they complain about it, we beat the shit out of ‘em.”

“You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me.”

“The fuck does a squirrel have to do with waffles, anyway?”

“My soap doesn’t have pubes on it!”

“You came all the way down here to talk about my pubes?”

“Twenty five bucks for your ass, huh? Never had to pay for that shit before.”

“I spent the whole day looking for your coked-out ass.”

[skulltie-a]

moran:

[ sms: jim ]   mcclister didn’t like me because i kicked his ass for speaking poorly of you once. and implying a few nasty things. - SM [ sms: jim ]   i know. hard to believe i’d do that !! - SM [ sms: jim ]   well, that didn’t take long. i’m nearly to you. - SM [ sms: jim ]   no grand reunion, okay ? i don’t need that shite. - SM

text.     sweet  of  you  to  defend  my  honor  like  that  ,  sebastian  .     jm text.      what  the  hell  am  i  supposed  to  do  with  all  this  confetti  ,  then  ?     jm text.      fine  .     we'll  just  get  right  to  business  .     jm

       THE  CLOSER  SEBASTIAN  GETS  TO    the  front  of  the  building  ,  the  smile  on  jim's  face  grows  closer  towards  sinister  .  something  stirs  at  the  knowledge  that  sebastian  brought  a  gun  with  him  ,  and  he  wonders  when  the  last  time  was  that  he's  actually  had  to  use  it  like  he  used  to  .  unhurriedly  ,  he  works  at  the  sleeves  of  his  dress  shirt  until  they're  rolled  at  the  elbows  -  then  ,

text.      i  still  expect  a    '  hello  /  i'm  glad  you're  not  dead  .  '    kiss  ,  though  .     jm

[skulltie-a]