#NeedsEditing

[scaneverything]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero Mini Poster [Vers.2] ⋆｡˚⭒⋆

[ Retouched photos + scans below the cut ]

[dreamlessprosefulnights]

Scraping Empty Pages

She scraped together every word she typed, every letter she could find and wrapped them up around her like a blanket hoping that maybe being combined would be better than nothing and would be just enough to cover all the rips of absence

[margaridacadima]

"Poetry is everywhere; it just needs editing." James Tate, on this World Poetry Day! Geneva, November 2014. #hoppsuisse #geneva #imnotthereanymore #poetry #poetryiseverywhere #needsediting #jamestate #worldpoetryday (at Bains des Pâquis)

[london-queer-blog]

Why did I stay in last weekend? ...coz I finally broke.

Long ramble - needsedition. Maybe.  I was messaging my new bi-man crush and top fetish socialite friend (and if I’ve not earned that yetI hope to soon), and I came to exlain why it was that I\d bailed on a weekend of fun with him  and my other mates - one I’d been really looking forwards to. In doing so I have started to face what I’ve been runnong fom of late I think... Truth be told, since getting the police involved to get my first Daddy finally out of my life (july?), then being repeatedly taken advnatage of by dominants who saw the desperation I had not anticipated from my younger alters; their panic and fear at not having a Daddy any more;, being ecluded from SRG without being told why; and feeling isolated from my biofam;  topped of with that fucking 2nd rape of the year (3rd as an adult) on Halloween, I think my coping capacity was finally overwhelmend. The increase in drug intake after Wayne’s eviction was a deliberate choice to tread water a little; until then I had been sticking to Dr Kate’s guidelines (a real doc and a friend of mine), but it was in the days after returning from hosptal Givingthe reports to the police. Feeling a deep shame as I explained to the policeladies that I frequently got strangers I had barely spoken to to come to my house in the middle of the night. Sometimes men, alone, with me alone.  I can imagine them thinking, “does she want to get raped?!”, and of course I do, because I’m a bit broken. Even now I am arouse dthinking abt how many risks I tool over the last months. Men from Fab are unfortunately poisoned by some great and terrible evil. ‘ve actually been raped a lot. When it’s your number one fetish you encourage situations where itall gets a bit rapey, but normally eveyone is having a good time even though you can’t say no. Fab men want yo uhrt your soul. The first one raped my vagina with his hand. Harder and harder untilI was crying and screaing andbegging to stop. I remember coutin the number of “no”s and “stops” with some semi-dissociated, detatched (emotionally) part of myself before he did stop. It was about 10 in total I think. Pinned down, utterly immobilised, being violated in your most precious, new and delicate of places (especiallyfor a transwoman), hurting us more and more until we realise there could be no end to this. It is terrifying. But then he stops abruptly. Gets some tissue and wipsr me and his han. I had begind to blee and I gues he didnt want too much evidence. He wiped me again, at thispoint I was on my sid, foetal a shaking and rocking - the howling cring had not stared yet. d

And I did not want it to start. Thanks to a combination of removing Daddy’s control tendrils from my mind, and then to realise that the young ones just did not understand. Of course they didnt. It cou

I need to make Bobbie and Katie understand that Wayne was bad for all of us. Yo (Pandora)u are hanging onto Wayne’s taking advatage of his mentee of Abbz as the crime for which you had to leavehim, which is always going to confuse Bobby and Katie - both of whom are happpily sexually precocious (because I fixed or sequestered the negative parts, or made them positive (pain/pleasure etc)), and now they can have joy in their hearsts, even if it is from somethingmost would distain. I am broken, but I am also by far my best healer/therapist. Please trust in me that I will as for help if and when I need it. 

After the shame of coming down in hospital (you get treated like scum if they think you’re a junkie - far worse than how they sometimes treat serious sel-fharmers). It was probably only a Sunday when I was back on the gear for a fewdays.Ithink it was then,having faced a little of thedark within,decided to see how long I could keep going. Thurs->Sun morn - 8h - Sun-Wed. When I was giving detailed statements to the police I had beeen awake for   (I was injuredduring the rape and fight with the attacker) in an uncontrolled manner including the 12+ hours of me having *epic* hypnogogic jerks including the odd scream, but with me unable to wake. Nick (brother) saw melike that.  I wonder how he felt? I'm certain of shame. Fear probably but perhaps guilt at the hope I wouldn'twake up?

[spacestarsandroses]

Homemade lemonade🍋

Soured fruits

Sharp and sweet

Summer delights

Fallen from trees

Bruised nights

Squashed and squeezed

Seeded and pressed

Flecks of flesh

Chilled and depressed

The pale yellow water

Torn and cut

Lace me with your sugary syrup

Pale yellow being washed away

[v-o-i-d-a-l]

Ash and Smoke

Pain is served to those Who try to avoid the waves

Mountains turned to gravel Unable to bend around the sea

Ash and smoke Are all that remain

Perhaps the phoenix Was just another bird Never to rise again After it was its time to fall

It will always be too soon to accept But we all fall eventually So I might as well give in...

[tenderlywingedtiger-blog]

Thoughts By, Cw

If I think I will live forever,

I will start to live life better,

If I believe I’ll die tomorrow,

I’ll live not for the morrow,

And leave behind bitter sorrows,

If I believe in true love,

My heart would never stutter,

Or hold thoughts of another,

If I can’t find hope,

All I will perceive,

Is the ability to deceive,

If I lose my ability to feel,

I will never truly heal,

If a line was to be drawn,

Between the wrong and the right,

Hate will grow out of spite,

Leaving behind one’s ability to have insights,

Lines that divide,

Often cause the sides to collide,

Leaving both with only their coping religion,

divisions lead to collisions,

The right misuse their ability to accuse,

The wrong gets use to all the abuse,

In the end we find,

Both sides become blended,

And only the wise know not to pretend,

labels create the problems that cease to end

[v-o-i-d-a-l]

Love’s Chains

The earth keeps spinning

And life is spinning along with it.

Yet, he was stuck in place.

Chains…

Not on his body

But his mind.

The metal though cold

Emitted a warm, relaxing colour;

Silver.

Like her favourite dress.

He was chained by her person.

An image that never fit reality.

An extract of his dreams.

You give a blind man colour

And he names you god.

But when your god leaves you

To return to the skies

You are left with lullabies.

However, the childish songs

Were missing the colour he sought.

So, chains he put on, himself.

Tied them on “their” bed.

On her portrait.

And shackled, he felt loved.

Not disturbed, nor restricted.

All he needed to live was her…

What is love, but a mean for manipulation.

That, he knew.

Yet, he would make the same mistake again.

When you see the light you can't go back to darkness…

[akinrok]

Short piece from a WIP chapter (Experimental Bug).

Been working on this the last couple of days, and decided to start posting a few pieces to tumblr from time to time.  This is all pretty raw and unedited, as a heads up!

---------

He almost got her.

The blue light swerved tight into his gut. The man in the black two-piece suit fell into a twitching heap, holding his stomach as the pain from the electric staff coursed through his body. Another swing took out the agent to her immediate left, as she swept his left leg right out from under him.

Three down, ten to go? Way too much work.

Testing out the current limits of her suit in battle wasn't supposed to be such an ordeal, and figuring out why her hammer wasn't assembling properly wasn't nearly as important as dodging the "soft rounds" they were firing at her.

At the very least, she knew they no longer wanted her dead. 

That was a drastic improvement from her previous encounter with them.  Their ammunition was actually live the first night. She certainly wasn't going to complain about that change now.

No matter how impressive she felt in the suit, she also knew her time and her repertoire was limited. If not for the powered battle suit, she certainly wouldn't be able to fend off the agents at all.

"Keep that vigilante in place! We aren't letting her get away this time!"

Three more swooped towards her. A swing to her right bounced off the arms of one agent. As he slid back from the force, another one stepped to her back. His cheek was met by the staff's blunt end as she swung it back, sending him spiraling to the floor.

A loud beep rang through her left ear. The display lit up on the left side with all sorts of red lights. And just out of the corners of her eyes...

Her staff just barely blocked this new girl's attack. What worried her, was that she also didn't topple over in pain from the taser staff.

Yup, she's going to be a problem.

"Put down the toy and surrender," the girl commanded.

She wasn't exactly an expert with that "toy", to say the least. But then again, she didn't really need to be when it fired off electric shocks on contact. While it wasn't the primary weapon for the suit, she'd make due with it until she could fix its main arsenal.

If those agents decided to be a little more aggressive though, she was pretty sure she couldn't take them all on with just that staff and her limited combat skills. As it was, they were going light, for certain.

Far be it for her to ask them to make it tougher.

"Why don't you just surrender? If you drop your weapon now we'll take that into consideration!" The tall girl held her own staff ready. "You've already wasted enough time and injured enough agents!"

Speaking back to them was certainly out of the question. For now, she had no way to disguise her voice. That was yet another one of those things she needed to add to "the List".

"No choice, agents," one of the men said flatly. The older man drew a pistol from his waist that was far different than the guns they'd used up until that point.  Definitely not standard issue...

--------

[tenderlywingedtiger-blog]

Lying Lullaby

By, cw

Didn’t your mother ever tell you?

Ought it be heard, ought it be.

Themes of you, themes of a wholesome two,

She knew as many women did, the lullaby left a distinct taste,

Hope was to shimmer the young spirit and awaken it to find,

The tasteful tale mocked every woman alive

Woman webbed in disguise, yet smile so bright as if they were full of light,

She engraved he would come forth and slay,

Saving you from a doom you couldn’t find, in time holes would grow vaster as your heart became lax to your body,

Day after Day you would lay and wait for the man you needed to be saved,

You bleed bleed bleed but the idea is where the blood runs,

Incoming a drive to approach sharper waves,

Cause if it was not now, it would be than, and there you were looking again,

No longer could bare the dust dry air, or fathom in taking a breath of what was left,

Could not find a lie to collide the false fiction that whisper every night that you were deprived without a knight,

But it whispers, whisper, and it whispered all around everywhere,

Looking around the city you find girls beautiful, pretty, with a man witty and tall,

It whispers, whisper , whisper

Whisper, it did, it all, and the whispers starting to scream and no longer was there reason of conscious hearing,

Around the bend your eyes widened, turn the corner of main street, alleys in the dark isolation became safe because no one could talk,

Ears, eyes, nose, and numb your touch, but danger embarks lingers in the dark,

No longer fearing the whisper, passing the dumpster a homeless man raping your sister,

Never fishing before, Discomfort scrapped in deep to fill eyes,

Taste, taste, and taste this tale would leave you bitter,

Not one of glory, and certainly not a lullaby,

So tell your daughters, and remind your son’s,

Were all damned, don’t look at it firsthand,

Spiral into a faith of the darkest intakes, and look alongside,

All the beautiful girls and boys just born fucking right,

A kiss of the lips might make a quick fix,

But lips burn like fire when a liar conspires you to take a dive,

Watch the cement as he implants a seed of destruction,

Cause every little princess was told,

They were sold,

A Story of a man, who came along to make everything worthwhile,

Little angels all over would linger for clovers,

Words could cut deep and cold and make you numb,

Eyes that are lurking for validation make an easier completion for those introducing temptation,

Earth’s core made of iron,

Our blood possess iron too,

All living pieces of the land,

Land that could thrive as long as it rains every once in awhile,

Mothers, Mothers, Sisters, Brothers, Fathers, and Mothers,

Filling the cough syrup in the metal spoon,

Forcing us to swallow it whole,

But the taste shivers slowly dripping to the soul.

“You will get better soon”

[mywordstellmystory]

Anticipation

The anticipation is too much to bare, my body quakes with desire. The wait is agonizingly unfair; pressure builds as the minutes retire.

Caresses are received with yearning; only quieted by thrilling brushes. My release is your silent craving, satisfied using tender touches. 

Could use some help with the second verse. Anyone have any suggestions?

[nicknq]

The Man in Mirror - Reflection on 2013

When you get what you want in your struggle for self, And the world makes you king for a day, Then go to the mirror and look at yourself, And see what that man has to say. For it isn’t a man’s father, mother or wife, Whose judgement upon him must pass, The fellow whose verdict counts most in life, Is the man staring back from the glass.

[The previous poem was written by an inmate on death row. Fine reading selection, I know]

A few months ago, in a blog, I wrote that sometimes we feel a need to make goals in order to attain things - objects, ideas, or people - that we believe will give us meaning. However, the underlying issue always stems from our innate dissatisfaction with life as a whole and the result is that we are left chasing something that we believe will give us purpose and make us feel something (anything!) just for a short moment. The essential and, unsurprisingly, most difficult part is finding/doing the right things that add value to our self-respect, not necessarily to our self-possessed image.

The past year wasn’t easy and I certainly didn’t take it upon myself to make it any less difficult. From graduating college with student debt, to seeing two of my older siblings get married, and to even experiencing the loss of my grandpa with who I never had a close relationship with due to language barriers, there was so much pressure that I placed upon myself to address the things in my life that I felt needed work. I started this year off with the desire to be a certain way and to have certain things, I just didn’t anticipate that I’d have a different attitude towards everything when it was all said and done by the end of the year.

Applying my logic of “value-adding decision making” to the most pressing matters throughout 2013 helped me make, what I believe, were the right decisions. Choosing to work at a giant tech company over a non-profit was one of those tough decisions where, initially, I felt the opportunity cost eat away at my self-respect but ultimately it led me to remember why I sought out a degree in the first place. In my college application essay that I recently salvaged, I addressed past adversity and wrote: “In spite of their negative outcomes, I learned and grew more confident to take more and more chances in life simply because I believe from personal experience that one cannot grow without overcoming conflict and obstacles, and this is exemplified through my volunteer work with special needs children.”  I knew before going to college that I wanted to do good within the community someday, somehow. But the last clause of the sentence may be a little misrepresentative of the purpose of the statement. While that sentence was a clear transition into the part of the paper where I would talk about charity work, I remembered the main point I tried to drive across with the application essay; I planned to attend a university to get a degree that would lead me to a job, challenge me to become good at something, succeed, then provide me with the means to make a difference, on my own terms. All men may be created equally, but not all men value the same opportunities coequally. I simply didn’t have it in me to dedicate my first career out of college to a cause that I had just learned about just a few weeks prior to even applying. And so I weighed my decision to take the job. I envisioned just about every scenario I could where if I succeeded in either position, which one would bring me the most personal satisfaction, and conversely, if I failed, how disappointed I would be. I went with my brain, not my heart, and chose the company with a search-engine and a few months into my working, I found a non-profit to my liking that I could commit my extra time to. On my own terms. Boom.

In addition to career woes, there was also the issue of my personal life and the pledge I made to myself that year to visit my home country of Vietnam as soon as I graduated. I couldn't think of a better time than right after I finished college to take a trip to a country where I was ethnically from but had never been to and just get lost in it. To rediscover who I was and where I was from, and to experience a world that I was supposed to call home but really was an outside stranger to. Regretfully, I defaulted on that self-imposed commitment and the remorse hit me the hardest when my grandfather passed on. Not only was I faced with the guilt of not experiencing my own culture abroad, but now I had the regret of never being able to become close with my own extended family here in America due to my reluctance to be involved earlier on. I’m not sure if anybody else has ever felt like a failure at being an ethnic minority, but I will be the first to tell you that being a minority is already, in some ways, a handicap. Being a minority to a minority is like a handicap within a handicap. I wish Chris Nolan was reading this.. But, I made it point to remember that I am who was raised to be. I shouldn't have had this selfish desire to “rediscover” myself in my home country as if I was going to somehow just learn all of these secrets on how to be a more complete person on an ancient scroll found in a cave. I should enrich myself so that I can increase the quality of my interactions with the close relatives I have around me and frankly, the education and practice starts at home with my family, not in a foreign country with a bunch of strangers.

The last big issue I faced was the fact that my sisters were both getting married and for the sake of your eyes getting littered from my excessive writing, I will keep this one short. Seeing your siblings get married develops pressure on you to start dating seriously, or at least to start looking. The problem is that when you date girls while experiencing this pressure, you kinda look desperate. I had a feeling I was off of my usual stride and it felt weird. It felt desperate. And for a while I just didn’t feel like myself. I was the king of no-commitment in college and somehow I felt this pressure to find someone who I saw potentially being akin to my family? [Note to self: I don’t even know who you are anymore] As a result of this recent annexation attempt, I scared away possibly one of the coolest and sweetest girls I’ve met in recent memory and wrote a novel shortly after our time ended. Desperate. But I don’t regret writing that book at all. And like all bad experiences, I learned my lesson and changed my ways - basically overnight, when I went on a date with a woman approaching her 30’s. Now that was desperate - on her part. I started to pick up on her neediness, listened to her ramble about values and what kind of people she’s dated in the past and without a doubt, it was the experience I needed in order to see just how much I didn't have to be like that. More importantly, how much I didn't want to be like that. I’m closer to 20 than I am 30, I have a career, I have money, I have my physical appearance and as selfish and narrow minded as I was to build on those things, it doesn't make me who I am, it just lets me have a little room to enjoy myself. That’s all I've ever really wanted out of my pre-settled down life - to not feel like I was missing out on anything - and if I’m pressuring myself into misery already at this age, I would be looking for happiness in the wrong place.

And so to conclude my commemorative post to 2013, I would like to go on record and admit that this year, while at times stressful, was possibly one of the most enriching experiences I've ever had. The people I've met and the people I've come to appreciate more have all enabled me to be wiser, stronger and more thoughtful than I was 12 months ago. And while I thought this would be the year where I would dedicate on building my “new & improved” self through new challenges (like adopting veganism or giving up a smart phone), I found myself really understanding the importance of not forcing change upon what made me who I am for the past 22 years, and to be a good person in general, morally speaking.

Life Lesson of 2013: Finding success + Paying It Forward or Back + Not Being a Sellout = A Healthy, Meaningful Life.

[v-o-i-d-a-l]

Lovely Wounds

For a bond to be sincere

People need a mutual ground

That helps them understand one another.

However, that mediator itself, needs to be genuine.

It is hardship that makes bonds

Not happiness.

Friends are those who have felt your pain.

Who have seen your scars.

And have stayed, to show you their own.

We are all connected by our wounds.

Because pain, never lies...

So why are you still keeping safe?

[heroreturns]

The Henchman, Chapter Four

6.28.2012

The ride over was uncomfortable but quick. Phil was too busy counting the contents of the pouch he took, and Charles looked like he was searching himself to make sure he hadn’t lost anything. “Hey, have you guys seen my phone?” Charles didn’t even bother to look up as he asked the question. “No, sorry,” I replied, as I began to turn my vehicle into the bar’s parking lot. Charles sighed. Phil, without turning to look at Charles, commented, “You probably just left it inside with your jacket. Don’t worry.” I parked the car, did one last survey with my eyes, and decided I had no idea where the poor sap’s cell phone was. “Oh well,” Charles said, and with that, we all exited my four door sedan, and started into the bar. It was getting kinda late, and when we had left, the DJ and his entourage had still been packing up their equipment. Now that it was pushing three thirty in the morning, it seems like they hadn’t got much more done since we had been gone. Phil stormed off to talk with the boss, while Charles headed off towards the employee locker area to see if he left his jacket there. In my head I kind of remembered him wearing it. Yeah, it was grey with two pockets on the front and, “Hey. Can you pour a girl a drink? You work here, right?” Her voice was surprisingly alert and assertive for this hour of the night. Most women seeking out beverages at this hour were usually past the point of needing another one, but this particular dark haired beauty was maintaining eye contact while probing my face as she spoke to me. Not wanting to break eye contact now that mine were glued to hers, I said, “Sorry miss, but I am pretty sure we’re closed at this point.” She groaned and twisted her heel into the ground. “Aw, really? Are you sure? DJ Slick Fist is in the back with Fleece and I am getting so bored out here by myself—but hey, are you alright?” Now she was stepping closer to me. It was possible that my face had gone a little pale. I had never been witness or a party to anything like what just happened, and the gravity of my situation was starting to settle in around me, paling my complexion and darkening my eyes and hair against the increasingly transparent skin showing on my face. “Um, yeah, it’s nothing. Really.” I was struggling for an excuse, and hadn’t really had time to think of an appropriate alibi for what had just happened and where I just had been. But the concerned look on her face told me it was going to require a little bit more than that, “It’s just this group of girls,” I started, looking down at the floor, searching my mind for the closest, most appropriate recent even that I could spin into a harrowing tale that would explain my current appearance, “They just graduated, and after a long night of drinking and partying, one of them came back and passed out in the lady’s rest room. She had to be carried out to the ambulance,” I turned to look up at her to see if what I was saying was working. Her face had softened a bit. “Really? Oh my God, that’s crazy! Only, I’ve been here all night, and I haven’t seen a single ambulance.” Her face was now more stern looking, making her look kinda cute with her hands atop her waist, and her brow slightly furrowed in a look that I could only imagine she thought was imposing. “Yeah, it was at another bar, but they had been at ours, earlier in the night, and one of the girls needed a ride to the hospital, so I gave her a ride.” She stepped towards me. “Wow, you’re such an amazing guy. Or at least you would be if you weren’t so fool of shit. Three bouncers to drive one girl to the hospital? Get the fuck out of here,” she pushed off my shoulder and turned to start walking back towards the stage. “It’s okay. I don’t want to know . You don’t look that tough anyway. I bet all you did was drive.” She didn’t even turn to see my reaction. I guess she didn’t care. “You’re right. I did just do the driving. And I wasn’t even very good at that.” She stopped, immediately turned around in place, and smiled. “Oh, so you DO have a car? Good!” I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at her. “Why?” She walked closer again. “Because my ride is drunk, and I don’t want to hang around this shit hole while he sobers up. You don’t mind giving me a ride, do you?” She batted her extended eye lashes, and reached out to grab my wrist. “Please?” Now she was pouting her lips and pushing her body into mine. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Let me just go make sure I can leave first,” I yanked my wrist away and started walking back towards the boss’ office. “Sure, whatever, yeah. I’ll be right here,” she said, practically pouting. I stepped into the office and saw several hundred dollar bills lied out on the desk in front of me. It had to be at least five thousand dollars. “This is way more than he spent, boys,” our boss looked up at me as I entered the room, leaning on the doorframe and crossing my legs at the ankle while also crossing my arms. When the boss looked at me, I pointed over at Phil. “Well, Phil?” Phil shrugged. “We gave him several opportunities to give us our money, peaceably, and several times he refused, like an asshole. Then, when he realized the situation he was in, he tried to flee. New guy over there,” Phil pointed his finger at him, “was able to stop him and throw him back into his bed before he could run out on his. We tuned him up a bit, nothing too bad, and then he finally told us where he was keeping his money: there,” now Phil was pointing at the leather pouch resting next to the fanned out hundred dollar bills. “And what about this?” The boss said, holding up a single piece of paper, no bigger than three by five inches. “Um, I don’t know anything about that,” Phil said, as he approached, grabbing at the piece of paper. His eyes danced back and forth across the single sheet of paper. “Looks like names and numbers to me. What do you think?” He handed me the piece of paper and I scanned several hand written names, mostly Latino sounding, with some numbers and some addresses next to the names. I shrugged and gave the piece of paper, not recognizing a single name, number, or address. “No idea, sorry.” Phil hissed. “Worthless cunt, alright, you can leave while me and Jeff decide what to do with this cash. See you tomorrow.” I smirked back in response before turning my body and walking out the door. Walking back into the main lobby, I spotted the same dark haired party goer passed out on the stage with her legs dangling in the air beneath her. I walked up to her and looked at her face. She had beautiful features, with a soft showing of freckles around her nose and under her eyes. Even with her eyes closed, and her mouth slightly pursed, she still looked absolutely gorgeous. DJ’s manage to nab some of the hottest chicks in town, somehow, I thought, as I turned around and began walking towards the door. Just as I was reaching my hand towards the handle, I heard a feminine voice behind me say, “Leaving without me?” I froze in place, my hand resting on the door handle. I let my hand drop, and turned around to see her sit up with a big grin on her face. “No, I guess not. Let’s go. I’m tired.” She pushed off the stage with her hands and landed firmly on both feet. The door swung open as I pushed on the frame, and after opening the door, I swung my foot into position just at the door’s corner, to hold the door open for my new found passenger as he stormed by me, clearly eager to go home. “Thank you,” she muttered, as she passed me. “You’re welcome, I guess,” I mumbled to myself as I swung the door shut. -SJD