#i dont really know anything about guns but you get the drift ok

[bluejones]

a valentine’s day surprise

pairing: dave york x reader word court: 1k warnings: I mean, there’s some gun use because obviously.. a/n: me, writing FLUFFY shit for dave?? I could never. my friends will be shocked! but I want to be his wife so you know, here we are. I can’t think of nice things without there being some sort of spicy undertone okay! Also I wrote this pretty quickly at like 6am and I’m just gonna post it without dwelling on it like all my other writing I’ve been holding onto, sooo it’s not edited or anything but that’s okay. please enjoy :)

Inspired by this gif

The sun had just started to rise as you walked down the stairs in your home, yawning and pulling your robe tighter around you. It was like any other day, nothing special about it except for the fact that it was Valentine’s day. 

You didn’t celebrate anymore, saved that for the early years together with your husband, who had already left for the day. You both showed how much you loved each other every single day, so celebrating specifically on one day wouldn’t really mean anything. 

Besides, being together so long just made it harder and harder to be creative. With commercialised gifts and red and pink cards – it wasn’t exactly your style. It wasn’t your husbands either, thankfully.

Today would turn out to be slightly different though.

When you reached the kitchen, you headed straight for the coffee machine. Surprisingly, your favourite mug had already been left out for you. Under it lay a blank white envelope.

You inspected it, finding that it had been properly sealed. Carefully, you swiped your finger under the seal and pulled the card out. It was also blank, no font or design on the front. It was strange, your husband wasn’t the type to leave mysterious messages. He was straight forward, preferring to tell you things in person, prefer to call than send a text. It was one of the things you liked about him - but this letter couldn’t have come from anyone else.

You flipped the card open and, in the middle, a simple sentence in black ink was scrawled across it.

this Valentine’s day I thought I’d get you a gun

-    Dave

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips or stop the smile that spread so far across your face the corners of your eyes crinkled. You thought about it constantly for the rest of the day.

                                                        ~~~~~

He was nervous when he first told you. You had a sneaking suspicious that he didn’t just work a boring desk job with the CIA. No - he was a trained operative and sometimes freelance assassin. It was certainly a shock but his honesty, and the trust he felt he had with you to share his secret was enough to make you fall for him even more.

Despite his anxiousness over if you really did love him and his morally questionable career, you married him anyway. While it made you worry, you trusted his skill and judgement, knowing he would always come back home to you. If anything, it made him more attractive and you appreciated so much more the times when he was soft and would melt like putty in your hands for you.

He could have become a very different man..

When he arrived home later that day, he was almost giddy with excitement. Such a contrast to his sometimes usual intensity after a long day. He scooped you up into a hug and spun you around, planting kisses over your face. You couldn’t do anything other than laugh and you felt like you couldn’t feel more happy or have your heart feel so full.

Once he set you down, he shoved what you assumed was your gift into your hands. He had even put it in a nice box and the thoughtfulness made your heart ache.

As you opened the lid, you noticed he was shifting between his feet, clearly nervous. It was a compact black 9mm handgun, small, but it would fit perfectly in your hands. A red band went across the grip, a personalised touch you figured. It was practical and anything but fancy – exactly what you wanted. You were beaming. You’d definitely wanted your own for a while and you wondered for a moment how long he had wanted you to have one.

The thought of placing your gun next to all of his in the case in the basement was enough to make your eyes water.

He was ushering you outside, barely giving you enough time to fully process your emotions before you were being positioned in front of a target he’d managed to put up without you noticing.

You were grateful for the large backyard and space from your neighbours – the shots fired would sound dull in the distance. No need for them to worry.

“Do you remember?” he asked standing behind you, placing a hand on your hip. You looked back and rolled your eyes at him. Yes, you remembered how to hold a gun.

Lifting your arms up the way he taught you years ago, you aimed the gun at the target, taking a moment to breathe and concentrate.

“That’s it, honey.” His mouth brushed your ear as he whispered. Both of his hands were at your waist now and you would have shivered if you didn’t want to keep a steady composure – not make it so obvious how much he affected you. Not that it mattered, he would know anyway.

Shifting your stance slightly, you shot 5 rounds at the target. It was smooth, barely any recoil. You missed 2 out of the 5 but that was okay – you’d be able to perfect your shot now that you had your own gun.

Dave hummed in approval and pressed a lingering kiss to your neck.

“Very good.”

His voice was low and almost gravely and this time you did shiver, letting it run down your spine. His breathing picked up and you could feel his chest rise and fall quicker as he pressed his body flush against yours.

“Again?” He questioned and you considered it before sighing. His arms dropped from you as you turned around to face him. You would have liked to if he wasn’t already making you feel so needy.

You pressed your gun against the underside of his chin, tilting it up so he had to look down at you. He gasped and his body jolted at the feel of the cold metal against his skin. His pupils dilatated, staring wide at you. His arms flew straight to your hips and gripped them tightly, pulling you into him.

“You’d better take me to bed Mr. York.” You whispered against his lips and he groaned. His arms wrapped around you and lifted you up, making you lock your legs around his waist.

“Yes, dear.” He smiled playfully, crushing his lips into yours, deepening the kiss as he moved back toward the house.

[wantstoflyafraidtofall]

Domestic Destiel short | 874words | ao3

It was one of those nights where sleep never came, when the rain pattered softly down on the roof drawing jagged rivulets on the windows. Dean gently pulled back the covers so as to not wake the man sleeping in the warm bed next to him and slipped out of their room.

The floorboards creaked as he made his way through the house and out the back door. He didn’t know why but he loved the rain, just standing and watching it fall, the small drops forming up high before rocketing to the ground and bursting against the earth. Maybe it reminded him of his old life, how all you could do was go down and down and down before you ended your time with some big bang, or it could be how the water is bringing new life, and the sounds bring a certain sort of calm that Dean has only been able to experience here with Cas.

He stood there like that, staring out from under the awning and gazing at the delicate hints of dawn beginning to spread its way across the sky. The tight feeling in his chest began to fade away like a smudge of dirt washed away in the rain falling in the dusty grey morning. 

(continues under the cut)

His mind drifted to the pile of papers and books on the table and the man who placed them there. Once Chuck had been defeated and Jack became the new god, they managed to save Cas from the empty, effectively rendering him human, but that didn’t bother either of them. They left Sam and Eileen to run the bunker as a safe house for hunters and moved to a small house up in Sioux Falls to be by Claire and the girls.

Cas had encouraged Dean to find a job and Dean, knowing Jody was still working at the station with Donna, made the choice to join the department. He already has the necessary training from years of… experience, and with the girls good words, he made it in easy. 

Castiel, on the other hand, started taking online college courses to become a librarian of all things. Dean thought that years of sleepless nights buried nose first into old books of lore would have crossed that job off the list but it turns out that Cas never minded reading, just that the intended purpose of the knowledge gained was to fight and not to learn.

He jumped out of his skin when he felt the touch of warm arms snaking around his waist. Cas pressed a soft kiss to the back of Dean’s neck.

“Heya, Cas. Whatcha doin’ up?” Dean asks quietly.

“I got cold.”

Dean chuckled. Turns out, Cas is like an octopus when it comes to snuggling. Dean would wake up with Cas completely sprawled on top of him, drawn to Dean’s body heat.

“Sorry, honey, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Mmm come back and we can watch a show then.” Cas whispered against the shell of Dean’s ear.

They were rocking gently side to side, swaying to some silent song hidden in the steady beat of the rain. The world was quiet here, calm and fuzzy at the edges. An ex-angel and broken hunter holding each other in a house they call their own.

No longer were guns hidden under the pillow when they slept, no longer did they spend every waking hour planning out how they would survive the next day. Dean had something he had only had in his childhood dreams and Cas found, after millennials of searching, where he belongs.

Sometimes, the irony of it all makes Dean laugh, telling Chuck, wherever he was, to suck a dick because he had been beaten by a ragtag team of humans and a broken angel of his own creation. Thinking about how he used to be so ready to die one day, give up his life to save another because he found no value in himself, fills him with a bittersweet feeling.

After so many years of therapy, Dean still does wake up in a cold sweat or screaming Cas’s name, but now he’s not alone. He has his husband and his friends which he knows that he deserves because he has worked so hard to get them. Mia Vallens, the shifter therapist, was who Dean owed a big thanks for that.

Cas tugged Dean’s hand and they padded back to their bed, tucking themselves under the covers. Dean pulled up netflix on his laptop, letting Cas who was now curled into his side, sticking his cold feet between Dean’s legs, scroll through and pick a show.

He pressed play on The Queen's Gambit, a show Cas had convinced Dean to watch with him although it wasn’t too hard to do, as long as he’s with Cas, he’s happy. It’s hard to be anything other than with Cas. 

If Dean could go back and tell himself that it’s all going to be ok, that the things he thought were meant for other people he could have too, he would. He would give himself a hug, tell himself it’s alright and not to be so hard on himself.

It’s one of those mornings where Dean’s heart hurts in a good way.

~~~~~Tag list(If you want to be added just ask :))~~~~~

@kinda-not-really-vibing, @i-dont-even-wanna-know

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Makeshift Medic

Donny Donowitz x Fem!Reader

Requested by @svonschroeder

(Sorry it took a few more days than I thought :/ )

Let me know if you guys wanna be tagged in these! :)

@owba-chan

*******************************************

"TEN HUT." Donny's voice echoed through the trees.

The Basterds scrambled into a line. The sun's harsh red rays were barely breaking through the horizon, boring through the branches, but they could already feel the heavy humidity sinking in around them.

Aldo was about to run his men through their mission. It was a big one. There was a cabin in the southeast side of the forest, and a few off duty nazi officers were holding a party there. They were high ranking. And they were major targets.

Aldo stopped mid-breath, before his first word.

You weren't there...

You were always there... in fact, you were usually the first one out.

Aldo narrowed his eyes, and turned to the privates. "Hirschberg. Omar."

The two stepped forward, "SIR Y-"

Aldo sighed, "At ease. At ease. Where in hell is y/n?"

Omar narrowed his eyes, "I uh... I don't know..."

Hirscherg turned around, back to the hideout, "She was right behind us."

Aldo muttered southern atrocities under his breath, as he rubbed the inner corners of his eyes, "Of all the goddamn days to fucken-"

He looked up and somehow you appeared in the line up.

Normally, it would've merited a chewing out, but...it was an important mission, there was no time. He narrowed his eyes again when he realized you were wearing a jacket...over a sweater...over a few other layers.

He quickly glanced around at the others. Donny was wearing his white tank top... everyone was wearing a single layer, mostly short sleeves.

He really didn't have time to question you. You were a smart enough private...smart enough for the OSS.  You never steered them wrong, why question you now?

Donny didn't quite notice. He was too fired up for the mission, "EYES FORWARD."

All of the basterds  stood at attention, their backs straight, hearts pumping adrenaline,  eyes definitely forward.

All of them, except for you.

Your eyes hurt, like everything else, your spine was tired, hardly able to hold you up. As Aldo went through the mission, you felt more and more spaced out. Every word seemed further and further away as you felt as if there was mounting pressure around your head.

You were aching, hardly able to hold up your head, struggling to stand, your knees were shaking.  You weren't scared.  Aldo was the only one that noticed, but he also knew that. It just wasn't like you.

"Y/n..."

You lifted your eyes to meet his. He saw the dark circles under your sunken eyes, "You're pale." He didn't waste an instant. He looked back to the closest thing they had to a medic, aside from you "Wicki!"

You stepped back, simultaneously balancing yourself, "I'm fine, Aldo."

Aldo sighed. You weren't really a liar. Everyone had been overworked lately. He knew you took missions seriously and decided you must be a mess from stress. It happened to the best of them...

... Aside from that, you were the only basterd that spoke French. The only that could get them through without blowing  the act.

You all moved out, toward your target.

Most of you...

Aldo couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He turned around and did a quick head count.

Ten basterds total.

You were missing.

"Y/N?!"

Donny's heart stopped. Without a moment to lose, he bolted back the way you all came. He didn't run too far when he found you resting on one knee as you grappled onto a tree, vomiting.

"Oh fuck!" He ran toward you, though he hesitated for a split second when he reached you. Donny...wasn't particularly good at taking care of others. Not unless by 'taking care' you mean bashing a baseball bat into their brains. He loved you, and wanted more than anything to take care of you, but he didn't know his own strength at times, especially when he was scared.

Then he realized how helpless you looked. He crouched by you, pulled your hair away from your face and did what he vaguely remembered his mother doing when he was a kid. He tried rubbing your back, didn't know if it was helping or not. He just tried his best. "You...you don't look too good, kid."

You knew how important the mission was for him, for Aldo, for everyone...hell, for you. You struggled, your knees shook and you pulled yourself together and stood back up. 

Donny knew how stubborn and proud you could be. You were somewhere in the same league as Hugo sometimes...that was a story for another day....

But, he swiftly held on to you, seeing you were already swaying, and on the verge of collapsing. "Hey, hey. Whoa...its ok," he looked down at you, observed the beads of sweat rolling down your face, your strained red, tired eyes, and your pale, scalding skin. He cursed himself for not noticing earlier as he turned back, his heart racing. "WICKI GET THE FUCK OVER HERE."

Wicki had a scant amount of medical training... his sister was a vet...but he was useful enough for the basterds, until you came along. Most of what he knew he got from you. But you were known to be something of a hypocrite, and tended to not take care of yourself half as well as you took care of your basterds.

Not even a fraction as well as you took care of Sergeant Donny Donowitz.... Sometimes he acted out  a little, just to get your attention. Not that you had a problem with that...

He felt almost as helpless as you as he looked down at you, a feverish, limp heap. "Y/n..."

Wicki rushed through the bushes, followed closely by the rest of the basterds.

He didn't take much time, or even a genius for him to know that "There's no way she can go."

Somehow, beyond Donny's reason, you managed to shift out of his arms, and stumble, "I can go... I can-"

Donny caught you once more as Aldo shook his head, "No you ain't, soldier. You'sa stayin." Aldo was at a crossroad. Wicki was the medic, but they also needed him because he spoke German. Hugo was too recognizable to some of their targets.

Aldo hesitated, and thought on calling it all off. 

As bad as you looked, you still had eyes, and you still knew your lieutenant well. "At least go without me. I can take care of myself. Go."

Wicki shook his head, "Aldo, look at the state she's in. We can't leave her alone. Not like that."

Hugo sputtered "Wicki's right." As much as he held a facade, and made it seem like he could barely tolerate you, you were the only one that knew how to carry out a good, sound argument... in German no less. (Of course, Wicki spoke German, but he lost his head quickly with Hugo's ridiculous claims. ) Hugo respected you.

He'd never admit it, but even he cared about you.

Still, not like Donny did. And Omar knew it. It was mostly a joke, but he suggested, "Ya know, lieutenant... no one's going to take better care of her than Donny."

Wicki and Donny both turned to him, "What?!"

Aldo pondered on it for a second, reasoning that would mean Wicki would be able to go. And...Omar had a point.

Donny held on to you as he also thought about it. He didn't know much about taking care of people... but he had watched you intently every time you took care of an injured basterd.... every time you took care of him. You did more than that for him...

He wanted to take care of you, for once. He'd figure it out.

Aldo nodded, "Ok. Wicki you're  comin' with us. Donny, you'll  be takin care of her till we get back."

"But I..."

Aldo couldn't help but grin a little. He knew very well how much Donny loved you. Donny once almost drunkenly fought him over you after knowing you for less than a week. "That's an order."

Wicki turned to Donny, "You know where everything is, Donny?"

Donny nodded, and sounded almost disinterested in them, as he looked down at you, "Yeah, yeah, have fun..."

There was an exchange of smirks and mischievous glances between the other basterds as they marched on.

Donny picked you up bridal style. As weak as you were, you managed to mumble a protest. "Don, no, I can w-walk. "

"Don't lie to your sergeant." He grinned a little, expecting you to fire something back. He admired you for your sharp tongue and quick wit.

He was met with silence.

"Y/n?"

He glanced down, and realized you seemed to be drifting off. He usually loved holding on to you when you fell asleep. Sleeping by you was so calming to him... but right now, it worried him. It wasn't like you.  He'd never seen you so sick. He noticed you were holding onto your stomach.

"How long you been like this, doll?"

His voice was almost pleading.  He knew you well, and knew you wouldn't fess up easily.

"I woke up like this..."

He caught you chattering your teeth before you clenched your jaw so you wouldn't worry him. 

"You're a terrible liar, ya know that?" He smirked a little as your eyes met his.

"I know..." You managed to flash a weak smile at him, as you gave up and rested your pounding head against his strong, protective  arm.

"So...how long's it been, doll?"

"Dont..." You shook your head trying to pull yourself together, "Don't worry about me."

"You can ask anything. Anything in the world from me, doll,  except for that."

You lifted your eyes and spoofed, "Yeah?"

"Don't ask me to let go of you either."

"You know me too well." Your voice was weak, and you broke out into a cough.

He groaned in frustration. 

He thought he heard a few muffled, stifled, quiet coughs late in the night. He muttered, "God damn it, Y/n..." He sighed "You feel like shit, don't you?"

"....no..."

"I swear to God, Y/n-"

You were interrupted by a lone, wandering, possibly lost nazi. He screamed something, but his words whisped through your pounding head

Donny wasn't having it. He needed you to get better, he needed to see you smile, and hear you laugh again. 

"Fuck off." Donny let go of you, and  raised his gun in one movement, and took a shot through the nazi's forehead.

Donny quickly put his gun back, and balanced you in his arms again.

He wanted to take the scalp, but he wanted you to rest more.

"Fuck that guy, right Y/n?" He didn't get an answer, "Y/n?" He looked down and realized you pained face, and you were shivering.  He frowned, and started to pick up the pace,  "We're almost there, doll, hold on."

By the time he set you down in your bunk in the abandoned inn you all inhabited, he was worried. It wasn't easy to worry The Bear Jew. But you... well... It took quite some time for him to actually admit he cared about you, even if it was clear to everyone from the moment you met. After that, he let no one near you, not without a fight. He loved you, and only you. He couldn't bear to see you in any kind of pain.

"Sh... it's ok doll." He pulled some covers over you, "I..." He looked back, knowing he needed to get the medicine, but not wanting to you leave you alone. "I'm here. I will be.... I...I gotta go get some stuff, but you, you know what I mean."

He sounded distant and muffled, but you could tell he was flustered. It was rare, but when he got like that it was unbelievably adorable to you.

After what seemed like the blink of an aching eye to you, and a lifetime to him,  he came back. He sat by you, and you heard the rattling of pill bottles. You opened your eyes and saw a hazey, blurry face over yours... no matter how sick you were, you knew how hard he was trying.

"You're still shivering..." He brushed some hair behind your ear and you mumbled, "It's cold..."

"Cold?! Its..." He was in a tank top and sweating. He eyed all the layers you'd thrown on, "Fuck, y/n, you're gonna suffocate like that!" He pulled the covers off you, "I know you feel cold, but it's hot out, I don't want you to overheat later." He helped you take off a jacket...then another one, and a sweater, and left you with a blouse on. He took your boots off, and though he knew you normally hated sleeping with socks on, he let you keep them on. He helped you back into bed, and pulled the covers back over you.

He sighed, a little content with himself, and sat by you. He couldn't find a thermometer,  so he rested the back of his hand on your forehead. Your face was scalding, sweat was rolling down your forehead, and you were shivering. "Y/n..." He got up,  and disappeared from your line if sight. Half delirious, and perpetually worried about Donny, you propped yourself up on your shaking arms, "Donny... Donny?"

"Hey, hey... sh, it's ok, I'm here, doll." You felt his warm arms wrap around you as he sank by you. He gently pulled you back down to bed (though... He normally wasn't gentle when that happened...)

"I gotcha some tea, doll. And here..." He put a few pills on your hand, after having read and reread the labels to make sure you were getting what you needed.

He drank some tea himself. He wanted to keep himself healthy enough to take care of you as long as you needed. As the basterds' medic, you did enough for them... and went above and beyond for him. 

He wanted you to know how much you meant to him, even if you might've been delirious and may not remember a word he said, he said it anyway. "You don't know much I fucking love you, doll. I need you to get better."

"I'm sorry..."

His heart broke, even if you didn't know what world you were in, he knew your heart was always in the right place. "Hey, don't do that right now. You're sick, kid, you-"

"You should be out there with the boys... You really wanted to go, I-"

"I really wanna take care of you."

"But you've talked about it for so long..."

He sighed a little, and took the empty cup from your hand and set it down.  "Yeah, but I think about you all the time. The mission was important, but you mean everything to me, doll. Don't be sorry. You do everything for us, for me. Lemme take care of you, just this once."

You laid back silently, almost as if you'd given in. You didn't have much of a choice to begin with...

"You feel any better, kid?"

You were silent. Even when you were half out of your mind with feverishness, you refused to let your guard down.

"Y/n, come on..."

But when you looked at Donny's worried eyes, you knew he meant it.

"I'm... I'm cold..."

He really didn't know what else to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He slipped under the cover with you, and wrapped his arms around you.

"No, I...I don't want you to get sick."

"So you admit it?" He smirked a little and you still protested, "Donny."

"It's ok, doll." You knew there was no way you were going to move him. You finally gave in. He smiled a little as you snuggled your head against his chest. He held you tight, resting his chin over the top of your head.

Some time passed, and you were beginning to drift to sleep when you heard his voice.

"You still cold, doll?"

You didn't have much of a voice left, and you were half asleep, so you simply smiled.

He peered over a little, and saw that smile, and your soft expression. He knew you weren't  hurting as much anymore. You weren't sweating. He let you sleep. He was relieved. But even if you were feeling a bit better, he still held on to you. You were his everything, and even if it wasn't much, he did whatever he could if it made you feel better. He planted a kiss on your forehead, and closed his eyes, with a sigh. He could hear the basterds laughing and joking in the distance.

He would've loved to have been part of the mission, and have a couple more scalps around his belt, holding on to his bloody bat.

But there was nothing that he loved more than you, and nothing else he'd rather be holding on to than you.

[giggleangels]

Okay it's Ethan's turn give me the dirt on that guy

ethan. the man of the hour. my dad. he’s a hitman and im trying to find a way to make that possible lmao so bear with me this is subject to change .

Ethans dad was shit, and alcoholic who beat his wife and kid. so ethan went to school with bruises. His dad also taught him to use guns, he was a big gun advocate and ethan just kinda went with it, he was kinda numb for like his whole childhood.  ANYWAY, in school, he just  drifted. he never made friends ( unless you count varha, who he saw everyday at the nurses office.) he was incredibly smart, and in gifted classes. He ate lunch alone, and was basically the loner that no one even noticed was there. that makes me so sad <:( i feel you ethan. He was already a really distant and unemotional kid, but when he got older he went into the military, mainly the Army and got a position as a sniper. after a few years, he was put in the role of taking out specific enemies, which he did with ease. during this, they really drilled it into his head that he was a weapon for them to use, and that was it. He blocked out his old life, literally, and focused on his job from that point on. After a few years of this, he began picking up smaller jobs inbetween his bigger, government issued ones.  Eventually, he realized that the government was making him kill people who has done nothing wrong, and he payed someone to just wipe him out of the system, to reset his whole life in his files. After, he drifted from place to place, taking up jobs as a hitman. But because of his strong moral code, he picked the jobs and carried them out as he wanted.  After a very close call with getting caught, he moved back to promise to become a cop, a secret identity he could use to make sure that if the arrows point to him, he could move them away to someone else. As he worked as a police officer, he took less jobs, maybe only one a month. cue getting shot in the shoulder and meeting Varha again!!!! after he met her, he really felt like he had a chance at true happiness, and took it. when they started dating, he began to show his true colors, and she loved it! but he hinted to her that he had a separate job, one he couldn’t tell her about, and she was like “ <:) well as long as its not that bad its ok!” and he was like uh oh. Anyway, a while of dating, shes like “ why have you been disappearing for weeks at a time, where are you going?” And he lies and says he’s cheating, but she sees right through it and tells him to tell her the truth. He does, and he explains why and how he does it, only choosing evil, horrible targets and turning down those he thinks are not worth it. She leaves him, and he goes back to his cold, distant self, going back to his work like nothing happened, like he never met her.  a few months later, varha comes back and expresses that she wants to get back together. she’s thought about it for a while, and she doesn’t want to turn him in because she thinks while his methods of doing good arent that good, hes doing what he thinks is right. she says she can help him get better, be a better person, and hes just elated to have her back, breaking out of his cold personality again. He promised to stop killing and focus on his job as an officer, but he found he couldnt really do anything, he didnt know how to separate himself from his old work, and also his pay was not what he was used to and he hated it. He told varha this and she said he could continue under a few conditions. dont let her in on anything, this is private for him. dont let anyone know she exists, she doesnt want to get hurt. keep up your morals, dont kill any innocents no matter what you do. and dont get killed. he agreed and went back to his job. when he was stable again, Varha and him adopted Tarla, and ethan began taking kills that were the safest, and also payed the most, so he could be home. One hunt ended with him taking kyrin and like how does that even HAPPEN??? then levi was born and he was like “ haha ok wow another one” one day Kyrin was snooping around Ethan and varhas shared closet, and found the outfit, mask, and guns ethan used to hunt. He told Tarla, who asked ethan what the heckie was up??? he came clean and told them about his past, and what he did, with varhas help. this kinda strained the relationships with them, but eventually they kinda left it alone, it wasnt really any of their buisness. After Varhas death,He began really obsessing over how she died, his skills and training making it super obvious to him that it was a planned killing. But he never got to the end of it.  god im sorry this fucking sucks but im still working on it <:) ok facts! Ethan is best at sniping, but isnt afraid to use his hands. his has a sniper and a pistol.  during one mission, he had to get close and kill with a knife. the target slashed him in the face, causing the scar over his eye and making him blind in that eye. the other scar is from a police stand off. idk how tho i just thought it looked wicked cool. his favorite color is green!  uhm uhm ill add more when i think about it i had to do alot of research for this one please like it ;;;;

[eveningsinlondontearsmeapart]

My Savior Pt2

Type: One Shot | Imagine about Shawn Mendes Rating: Rated R for Sexual Content Word Count: 2,929 Enjoy!

I heard the gun cock back, I closed my eyes as I knew it was over. I heard the gun off but I was still breathing, but when I opened my eyes my heart shattered. Shawn was laying on the ground in a pool of blood gasping for air. The guy fled from the scene as everyone started to call 911. I got down putting my jacket over his wound, pressing down. Blood was everywhere as I tried to keep myself calm as well as him calm, I didnt know if he would pass away or be ok. The parametic arrived and I got out of their way, it seemed like everything was in slow motion. The tears contiuned to slip from my eyes onto my cheeks.

"Are you riding with us?" The parametic asked.

I nodded quickly and got into the amblance with him. I grabbed his hand allowing him to know that I was here and wasnt going anywhere. At first his grip on my hand was tight but as the clock ticket his grip got loser. He let my hand go as he went flat line, I screamed out as they contiuned to work on him. We finally got to the hospitlal as they rushed him back into the E.R. I was pushed into the waiting room, I couldn't sit still as I paced the waiting room. Everytime I saw a doctor come out my heart would start racing but then drop when they didn't come to where I was. I finally sat down and put my head down in my hands. This was all my fault and now this innoncent man is fighting for his life. The clock seemed to stand still, which each tick my heart would beat. The doctor finally came out to me, everything went fine with the surgery. I walked down to his room, it seemed like it took forever. I finally my way to his room, I opened the door expecting him to be asleep. To my surpise he was awake and talking like nothing happened.

"Hey" he smiled as he saw me walk in.

"Hey" I whispered.

"Whas wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, just scared that I was going to lose you" I swallowed hard.

"Cant get rid of me that easy" he chuckled slightly.

"I guess not" I said as I felt the tears build up in my eyes.

"Come here" he held out hand for me.

I got into bed with him, hididng my face in his neck. I started to cry against him as he wrapped his arm around me. He rubbed my back trying to calm me down, he knew that I thought this was my fault. I knew he would say it wasnt but techinally it was my fault, they were after me not him. I finally stopped crying and just rested against him. I fell asleep against him as he drifted off to sleep as well. The sun started to peek through the window, I started to move in the bed.

"Shhh your ok" he whispered as he kissed my forehead.

"Morning" I rubbed my eyes.

"Morning beautiful" he smiled slightly.

"How you feeling?" I sat up in the bed.

"Sore but good" he sat up slightly.

"Im sorry" I looked at him.

"Stop, dont do this to yourself" he said.

"But its my fault" I could feel the tears build up in my eyes again.

"No its not, stop please" he placed his hand on my cheek.

"Im just sorry" I leaned against him.

"Its ok baby" he wrapped his arm around me.

We both got breakfast and right after breakfast he had to start walking. I helped him up from the bed, holding his arms as he walked. He placed his hands on my hips as he pulled me close to him. I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his neck, he leaned down kissing me softly. I smiled into the kiss as I grabbed the back of his neck keeping the kiss. Of course the nurse got after us to keep moving so we kept walking down the hallway.

"I can't wait to get out of here, " he said.

"I know" I nodded.

We finally made our way back to his room. I helped him, get him get dressed before lying back in bed. I knew it would be a struggle for the next few weeks, but I was going to be right by his side. They finally released him later that day, I took him back to his place. I ended up staying at his place over the next few weeks. I would go back to mine to get things, but for the most part I was staying at his place. It had been about three weeks since the accident and he was doing amazing. He finally got his staples out and we cleared for pretty much anything he wanted to do.

"You feel better after your staples came out?" I asked.

"Yeah a lot better, now I'm free to do whatever I want, " he smirked as he pulled me to him.

"I'm sure" I smiled.

"I was thinking about something, " he said.

"Which is?" I asked.

"You have been staying here for a while now, not just the past three weeks but since your accident. Why don't you move in?" he brushed the hair from my face.

"Really?" I looked up at him.

"Yeah, so instead of using my key, you can have your own" he kissed my forehead.

"I would love to move in" I leaned up to kiss him softly.

He smiled as he picked me up spinning us around. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I started to laugh. He placed me back on the ground, kissing me softly but intensely. I grabbed the back of his neck, keeping him close. I pulled on his bottom lip as he placed his hand on my back. I pulled back slightly leaning my forehead against his. He smiled as he looked at me, I wiped my lipstick off his lips. He held me close to his body, I bite my lip as I ran my hand down his chest. I played with his shirt, he tilted my chin up kissing me softly. His hands gripped my hips picking me up slightly, I wrapped my legs around his waist. He pushed me against the wall, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I smiled as I pulled away, he smile grew on his lips.

"What if we go upstairs and get more comfortable" he suggested.

"Yeah we should" I nodded.

He carried me upstairs and into his room. Sitting me down on the bed moving in between my legs. I laid back against the bed as he moved over top of me, leaning down kissing me softly. I leaned up slightly kissing him back, making the kiss more intense. His hands rested beside my head as he kept the kiss between us. I placed my hand against his chest as I pulled against his bottom lip. He leaned against his elbow as he moved his hand down my body. Gripping my shirt slowly moving it up my body. I raised up slightly as he removed my shirt, throwing it on the floor. I bite my lip as I played with his shirt, he sat up slightly. He took off his shirt also tossing it on the floor, undoing his pants. He placed his lips against my neck, slowly moving down my body. Leaving a trail of kisses down my stomach making his way to the top of my jeans. He unbuttoned them as he looked up at me, I lifted my hips slightly. He pulled my pants down removing them. Leaving me in just my panties, he got up from the bed. I watched him as he removed his pants, kicking them off. He moved back over me, placing his lips against mine. I smiled against his lips as his hands grabbed my sliding them above my head. I moved my legs further apart as he moved between them. I ran my fingers against his chest as I kept the kiss between us. He smirked as he moved his lips against my neck. Moving down my body once again, leaving kisses down my stomach. He grabbed my panties with his teeth, with my help he pulled them off. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he moved back over me. He moved his hips towards mine as his tip rubbed against me. I let out a soft moaning, slowly moving my hips to meet his. I reached down, taking him in my hand, rubbing his hard dick softly. I lined him up with my entrance, he slowly started to push into me. I placed my arms around him, my hands gripping his shoulders as he thrust into me. I moved my hips towards his as he thrust faster into me, but so deeply. I moaned into his ear as I held him close to me, he started to moan against my neck. He ran his hand down my body, gripping my ass as he pounded himself into me.

"Shawn" I moaned out.

"Yeah babe, " he moaned into my ear.

His thrust started to get faster but harder as our moans filled the room. I moved my hips towards his as I felt myself edge closer to a climax. I laced our fingers together as he thrusted harder. I arched my back as I came against him, he thrusted fully into me as he climaxed as well. He leaned down kissing me softly. He pulled himself out and laid down next to me. I turned on my side and laid my head down on his shoulder. He rubbed my back as he held me close to him. I pulled the covers over us as we just rested in bed. I started to drift off to sleep and he wasn't too far behind me as he fell asleep as well. I shuffled in the sheets, realizing that I was in bed alone. I sat up in the bed, stretching as I tried to gather my thoughts. I rub my eyes as I allowed my feet to hang over the bed. Finally pulling myself out of bed, I slipped on my panties as well as his sheer. I made my way downstairs looking for him, he was no where to be found. I grabbed my phone from my purse, dialing his number as I started to panic.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Thank God your ok" I sighed in relief.

"Yeah, I just went to the store babe, you ok?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just didn't know where you were" I said.

"I'll be home soon, " he said.

"Alright, " I hung up the phone.

I sat on the couch, turning the TV on. I flipped through the channels not finding anything to watch. I wrapped a blanket around me as I started to drift off. I didn't hear him come in but I did wake up to the smell of food. I walked into the kitchen and saw him cooking, I smiled as I leaned against the door frame.

"Hey beautiful, " he smiled as he looked at me.

"Hey, " I smiled slightly.

"I didn't want to wake you" him bite his lip as he looked over me.

"Like what you see" I asked.

"Yes, I do, you look better in that shirt than I do" he smirked.

"Maybe, " I chuckled slightly.

"I like you with nothing on" he smiled.

"Im sure you do" I bite my lip as I looked at him.

He finally finished cooking breakfast, placing it on the table. I sat down next to him, we started to eat breakfast and just talk about what we had planned. I didn't think I had anything to do. I loved my job but it was nice to have a day off once in a while. It was nice because he also had the day off, it was Saturday and the world was ours. I finished my breakfast as I got up putting the plate into the sink. He snuck up behind me wrapping his arms around me, his head against my shoulder. I leaned back against him placing my hand over his hand. He placed his lips against my neck, kissing my skin softly.

"What you wanna do today?" I asked.

"You" he smirked.

"Besides me" I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Can we just have a cuddle day?" he pouted.

"I would like that, seems like we are always on the go" I said.

"So just a relaxing day" he said.

"Sounds like a plan" I said as I finished washing the dishes.

He grabbed my hand leading me upstairs. I laid in bed as he turned on the tv, choosing the movie before laying next to me. I snuggled up to him laying my head against his chest. We stayed in bed mainly all day, switching movies and just laughing at each other. We ordered pizza for dinner and had a little dinner date in bed. I laid back in bed as he cleaned up, he soon disappeared into the bathroom.

"Babe?" I called out.

"Come here" he said.

I got up out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. He had candles lit and a hot bubble bath all sit up. I smiled as I walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kissed him softly as he placed his arms around me bringing me close to him. I pushed his shirt up removing it dropping it to the floor. I undid his pants allowing them to fall to his feet, he kicked them off as he looked at me. He took his shirt off of me, pushing my panties down. I kicked them off, wrapping my arms back around his neck. He smiled against my lips before kissing me softly, he slightly pulled away. He got into the bathtub and I followed him sitting between his legs.I leaned back against him as he wrapped his arms around me. The water was hot, it was a very romantic sitting. It was easy falling in love with someone who is your soul mate. I enjoyed spending time with him, sometimes I just wished we had a little more time together. Over the following days we were both very busy and barely got to see each other. Since the doctor cleared him and he was able to things he had to go back to work. I was busy working on my paper when I heard him come in.

"Hey baby" he walked in kissing my cheek.

"Hey you" I smiled as I looked at him.

"These are for you" he handed me flowers.

"Thank you baby" I pulled him down kissing him softly.

"Just love to see you smile" he said.

"I love you" I smiled.

"I love you" he kissed my cheek again.

He walked into the den allowing me to finish my work. I finally finished and made my way to the den, I wasn't feeling very well. I went to the bathroom and saw blood, at first I thought it was just my period. As the night went on I started to notice that maybe it wasnt my period but what could it be? I laid on the couch as he bought back food.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I dont know" I admited.

"Whats wrong?" he sat down.

"Im bleeding" I said.

"Isnt it your period?" he looked at me confused.

"I dont think so" I sighed.

"Lets go to the hospital" he said.

I agreed to go to the hospital, he helped me into the car. We made our way to the hospital, they took me back and made him wait in the waiting room. They ran every test they could think of and no one knew what was going on. That was until my blood work came back and they knew exactly what was going on. I laid back in the bed as it was getting late and I was getting tired.

"Ms. Y/L/N?" the doctor said as he walked in.

"Yea?" I responded.

"It seemed that you had a miscarriage" he said.

"What I was pregnant?" I asked.

"Yes, but you have lost the baby, I'm sorry" he said.

"Thank you, " I nodded as he left the room.

I was pregnant and didn't even know about it. I started to wonder and finally figured out that it did make sense. I hadn't gotten my period for over the last two months. I guess I was too busy to realize that, I just thought today was my period. I sighed as I got dressed as they got my paperwork ready. Should I tell Shawn what happens, we have never talked about kids. I finally got my paperwork and left the room, making my way to the waiting room.

"Hey, you ok?" he asked as he saw me.

"Yeah, fine" I grabbed his hand as we left.

"What happen? Or what's wrong?" he asked.

"I was pregnant, but I lost the baby, " I said.

"You were pregnant?" he asked as he got into the car.

"Yes, " I said as I got into the car.

It was like he saw a ghost as he sat back in his seat. I didn't know what to say, I watched him as I wondered what was going though his mind.  

[cum-om-me]

Personal Entry:

Otter here, first i guess itd be fair to explain a few things up top.

Firstly Otter is a metaphorical alter ego which was created based of a nick name given to me in highh school.

I was coined as "the nomadic Otter" due to my well known history of drifting continuously through this existence being born in a foreign land not to many continents away,but like a gracious river otter flowing with the rivers which eventually reach the seas, i was always stoned more naive, but ironically zen. I was brought here by my single mother at four yrs old, my father was never in the picture nor was i allowed to speak about him or inquire about him to my family and those who may have any information regarding the history of my own coming into being.

We became permanent residents four years later and im currently going through the process of naturalization. I went through the american education system since pre kindergarten so naturalization has occured as an outcome, but just isn't finalized and paid for so i am now going through that initiation. Ive paid and gone through the preliminary round.

We landed in a small town in texas, age four. Came to california at fifteen, twenty years id moved one year to, year and a half due to my mothers profession In the medical field, sometimes, or i guess i should say almost always, we would have to go to where the work was most needed in order to sustain our basic living, taking us all over texas and parts of southern california. After eighteen yrs of age, i left home with duffel bag and a guitar because i wanted to escape the conventual fate planned for me by my elders.

Nature loves courage.... And it is Apparently so.

Of course there are so many factors and so much information to divulge to add the proper context to the point im trying to get to in the conclusion of this story. Im afraid id diverge so ill have to return to all that some other day.

Now that you understand where the otter ego within me (pun intended) was teased and entertained as an ideal character for the person i am, its seeds didnt really start sprouting till last year (2019) and its peaked above the mud, i can explain my newly found understanding of the purpose of using this "alter ego" "character" "avatar" to be able to dissolve the borders of my own limitations as a person creating art. To be able to truly entertain these thoughts through the medium of the otter avatar and not as the man, for it has been increasingly difficult for me to be able to contemplate and philosophize with my peers and the community of souls i once accepted as my tribe, in a way of intellectual taste and progress.. Now it seems the bridges between me and the village are dissolving and im trying to understand why. I stand on the side which i believe to be that of the importance of knowledge of self, critical thinking, and responsible skepticism in order to be able maintain reason within the tribe, to perserve that which is most human in our nature, in comparison to the madness we have seen over and over throughout history displaying itself in obvious patterns of repetition that consumed mobs rabidly, making itself its own enemy. Lets use a symbolic metaphor. The snake eats its own tail in the delusions of unity to find when its finished nothing remains but its mind left exposed, and without protection from even the weakest but competent prey.

You see the metaphors are simply the inner poet, using symbolic visual linguistic tools to paint a clearer picture.

We are a story driven organism, just ask the keepers of morality and the stories of god which has defined the basis of our now hypocritical society using it like a crutch too old to withstand the withering of time, frail and ready to snap like a twig beneath ones feet.

As george carlin once said "no one seems to notice, no one seems to care" and every debate that has naturally transpired in my social structures as of late has lead to a point where logical conclusions, non threatening ones at that, lead to the opposing side raising their white flag and settling for mediocrity. "I dont care, leave me alone"

Then the attack on personality and character are used as a defenses to preserve the beliefs already founded due to the uncomfortable nature of growth.

I sit and watch as i always have the flicker, flame and smell of the bridge burning in blazes right before my teary eyed soul.

Am I no longer included, wanted by the collective community? Has my own pursuit for knowledge, understanding, truth and the inner rapture of personal discovery lead me to ruins door? Am i incapable of getting out of my own way? Can you even go to far within yourself?

No one wants me to feel but its not ok to feel nothing at all

To think but, only on the agreeable subjects of status quo

To speak when spoken to but to only speak what is conveniently easy to digest by a still watered mind threatened by the chaos of waves beating on the shores of its shared sands.

Has erosion driven us mad. Have the corrupted springs poisoned our waters too far beyond repair.

Must i reluctantly recluse amidst the tides and hide underneath lonely currents that travel vast desserts beneath oceans.

Pandemics, parks closed, beaches are now illegal to its native children, by a seemingly upset stepdad whos love is equal to obedience and incapable of parenting,it seems theyre now gunning for the fringe, the free, the open, the love expressed through physical incarnation as its own self love for its own existence, through the odd, differnt, freaks, weirdos, mutants, prophets, and visionaries

Why should i fight for those who dont care about their own person their, own freedom.

Why stand for those who wouldnt even stand with you, nor for you.

"Those who trade freedom for security deserve neither"

-Benjamin Franklin

Yet who am i to claim that anyone deserves anything or doesnt. So regardless of the I Dont Care Generation emerging. I choose to care for not what is principles of good or evil but what i intuitively feel is sincere and right. So I must begin with myself and only in following intention will i be able to incite any real change. By making a difficult choice and knowing that it feels as though the risk is worth the gamble.

So now ive heard loud and clear and i have nothing else to let go of but this. So ill hold my tongue and wish for the best. For the eutopia not the the sneaky slip into distopia.

There's nothing further i can do other than create, experiance, enjoy, let go, and face the music, To put it as Alan Watts did, " this doesnt mean you wont jump when you hear the bang, or that you wont feel fear, but youll accept it, and the person who understands the tao in the morning my sleep peacefully at night"

"Once the mind has been extended it cant ever go back"

-Terrence Mckenna

I hope that you know ive accepted the multitudes of possible outcomes for our future, i may be optimistic but i feel prepared, oddly prepared. This isnt a statement or message based on fear but something none the lesse my heart cannot hold in.

So Otter is born so to speak to embody the imagination im trying to let out without it being taken seriously, but sincerely and within the temple of the timeless. Art.

Without it having to be the me, the person, that funny feeling between the eyes that screams out I, who finds himself walking away from flames due to trial and failure in channeling its own expression. I will not desist i just must evolve and create the platform on which i may rebuild. The system updated and the restart brought about change. Now we begin again. Full of breath, with new found vision, i forgive myself for my failures but i wouldnt ever be able to look at my own reflection if i didnt try until i got it right. I vow to myself and olny to myself for thats the only source of validation needed to exist freely, sovereign, that i will do my best to be who i am meant to be, the being and self of my choosing.

"Most people spend their lives trying to find themselves, lifes about creating yourself"

-Bob Dylan

So in conclusion i know im different, and it may be intimidating but you cant just get rid of it, turns out you must overcome it, and the only way out is through and for me that began when i went within.

I am all for the rules, and being apart of this country and its society and obeying social order but as John Locke wrote in "Common Sense" that this is an unspoken agreement between the govenrment and its people that so long as they are just in ruling us" we will have to obey the law but there must be a way for its people to regain its country when tyranny and injustice is getting in the way of democratic processes and this is coming from a almost fully naturalized immigrant that came here to seek safe haven from a Democratic country plagued by unfairness. It would be a pitty to see it happen to a promise land founded of rich ideals. To those ive come to see as my own brothers and sisters, i love the ideal of true patriotism but where has it gone? If i need to be more protective of my personal privacy so that i may be able to practice my philosophical self studies, music, and comedy, to persue basic creative thinking methods openly. Then i choose this mask nit the one i was told to wear since birth. Theres always an person beneath the mask playing into the drama of this darma and we get into yoga with its fun to preten that we loose ourselves and assume the identity of the character portrayed in the scene in order to truly bring the crowd to the edge of its seat in awe and anticipation of the beauty of its poetry that at the end when the play is concluded both protagonist and antagonist join hands and the audience cheers for both equally for the dazzling deception and its cleverness for playing on the emotions of the observer.

Then the cast returns to the green room and become again who they were naturally.

Im 26 and ive found my character and im ready to submerse myself in its divine play and get involved participate, get lost in the mask of the person which is temporary but the spark behind conciousness seems to be the driving energy of existence benevolent, and eternel. Worth gambling so, now we roll the dice and hit the mystery button, just like the amnesia serum we gave ourselves before conception, into the womb we went. Only when you awaken your consciousness in the dream do you get to control the avatar, lucidly.

It doesnt seem to be a requirement, more like an EXPERIANCE badge rewarded for interesting work in the feild.

These again are ideals, not truths, thoughts and patterns worth examining and if capable entertaining till the conclusions and realizations of truth or delusion run their course. If you havent reached that point you havent really thought it through logistically right?

Lets discuss this comment below.

[castlehead]

[BENEATH THE PLYMOUTH. chapter nine, conclusion]

I.   Can’t life end again, before the sun Goes down over the hills like a parasol? Life polluting our heads with questions That don’t know their own answers …

  Then why give it us? the private said. I mean,

Armies kill and are killed for these, and ya En’ up with what monstrous

Bleakness stripes in blood; that is your prize. With flagging limbs I speak my Rage at the enemy. My True Veteran Rage, Which is my food and drink, I cross the

Battlefield and I singlefile my bros And doesn’t this matrix of bootstring Done up on you quicker now if We get incoming fighter jets? You are Meanwhile living it up like a damn Yossarian with them foolish virgins The new recruits till I

Send again for u to drive another imbalance right Weepwoop weepwoop weepwoop

Tried and true are the men to get killed first After all, nothing like

Deaths of  honorable   men To stew up the lesser rage of cowards for to deal In lamenting them, as if it were for fun, sportiness,

Oratory, red and blue lights! crack Open a cold one with the boys! magnifico! raises

Chalice to those sent to a Rightful place in the heavens, those Weak mounds or plots now, some Severed from life by the single nip Of severe pill intake after the war

You’re too fucking good for a life of Seizures take this xanax instead.

. .  .   .    .     .      .       .        .

What am I doing I am here, I am atop a mountain, lets call it, Am breathing full for the first time, In my headspace I persist An effluvium; while a desperate gush’f a need For sanctuary tells me I am far from Ahead of turning this damfool twilight In my head away from its Croaking doubts, and guilts, Can barely.

This Twilight, What have I left to examine of you? I say Sagely to the private, do all that you did, as well Upon / A separate, spent drift, perspective, etc.,

While the wolfish / Folk don caps Of what they wrongly think they

Are. This could be a story about why I wanted to kill myself Or it could be about whatever I want to make it about, Hopefully something, something less dramatic. Well. I hope you like it. I worked very hard on it. It Makes me want to weep to think of it, and yet I must, I want to tell you all of what it means to make a difference Atop a mountain, I see you there, my love, Please, please love me, there is not much I can say Except, love me. All this daft World. All of its haunting Contradictions, nifty spools out of sense I cause

Rounding the corner, get them, chase them, Go deep into the forest, up the climate. Up, Up

Have you found, the little that speech can give you             back is width enough for a heart in grief to corrode Or two? Sleep, sleep, dear one. I have ye, ye is   much obliged to nurture me myself, but unlike I you, u dont have to me, For I nurture myself well enough already. This someone else in this                 house of mirrors you keep talking about, quaking With unfed genius, and whom is monster, monster,              knocks upon the head, to heel up This phantasm, intimidate it backwards          a little, scorn its brunt, then deftly reconnoiter With it later back at the chasm’s lost wrinkle there where not           one minute of time is spent not laughing about the situation. A light could swiftly get penetrant the brains of the                   unfed genius, the wreck, The wry one, the lost thing betokening all worlds’     wishing that human vanity hath brayed like a horse for, and Prayed, prayed for, to congeal as even the protozoa of a spark at the top of a mountain; to let hope congeal in plenty as the blizzard Of the century to garnish the summit.

You have the prototype, but it is a him, and he is to love what love         had always needed to Be! We mold and mold what we want the world to           be, mold it out of a wish                       Or three,

. .  .   .    .     .      .       .        .      

II.   Each interesting temperament says hello to me, Before fleeing from me,

They pass and pass like they meant something once but won’t tell Anymore, as I wait to be given back what has been once robbed, still

Hell. What’s the difference really? Been once asking me for the last Of its energies, itself will change, always change. So it goes with The whims of opinion, as to what sits well in one’s stomach,

Or if not that at most just rumbles hungrily there, or gets one’s noticing Depreciating, or not. Anything wld lead me to an answer I’d get besotted of,

Ornate reasons for expression are my thing. Showy excuses for my skewed bind called my life.

That rattle here and there around the point I try to make a success As the voltage is turned on I mark my last of humanity goodbye,

As I remember ur indolence / I so forget my Thoughts, feelings, guilts, shames.

And it is mostly all the same. Watch me empty buckets of sorrow! My eyes. My continual essence is such a pain in the ass. I prefer Additional things in the mix, more than mere sadness. But Our relative experience, though relative, would try to deny Us that even, wouldn’t it? That all could simplify into an urge For relief, something that goes against the little voice That says, These are more than just

Words. But I want them to mean something, really, I really do; want them to bring you places, string You along on their meanings, bobbing and chafing:

Even by faith there being a verbal string to the argument Makes an argument. Reason’s transcendent like That and can make for bitchin’ metaphysical

Recognizingz. What. Something crucial loafs In my empty canister called body. So sue me. It, that is, What I am, doesn’t do anything there but magically

Stays aloof without disappearing: this buried thing: well I Daze myself off into space and meet you there, like, In space: and anyway waiting too long would

Be a rightful hazard for my personality to squeal about In being aloof. I have no ridiculous thing to write But instead forth go into magnifying what is said

Already like a patient requiring ibuprofen by exaggerating The pain that is still pain. More fun is this, this getting Shot with a gun-syringe of aenesthetics: they

Say “Ready for time out” when they do it: You wake up later feeling licked

Like, like a trainwreck, vibrating in freezing AC cold.

Yet if the headache’s needed, then, getting It treated should squelch the purpose. Leave my maladies There, you kno, safe in the trinketbox. Leave me traumatically

Unaided. Like until I hanker badly for an answer myself That I try and remember to give after the longest Period of time possible. So if I can’t,

I want. Feel so stifled. What is important to you: Making sense but making sense new: making poetic Thinking a type of poetry in itself: it works after all:

Let’s ask that question: if I am ambient in my relative Nature, or if the vibe is something more jagged, Which is already something wavy and ambient, An eccentric trick of the mind to woozle itself Into angles of self and pithy creation would Eventually present itself; but do not do it. Yu will not remember how for the life of you. It will just be a picture you see of what you want.       Such ignorance

Fascinates one into playing, like, by their own rules, starting To play with concepts. I want to stick to one but Don’t even have one. Strange taste

In my mouth there is. So much there is of self That committing to one thing, even per page, is Backwards, bawdy, bluntly reasonable tho

Past its secure, random prints the weird entry Glamorizes, then makes a thing: I went to those to Mean something, like, went to the words, I mean:

What of it: this is going to be something I Hopefully do not regret, that my large, shiny being notices as Light through the window, getting reflected on by the closing

Door of a car: don’t doom me to just that though: I am a searcher: I’m trying really hard: doe a deer, Blabla: I have the right wrinkles for to

Explain my argument sideways: planecrash: Runtish reason, bleed me out of you into a body My own, hopefully: fuck my answers

For everything: I don’t care about the bad choices. The, that is, horrible reasoning, is not, is a Way, a new one, to work my way

Through poetic thought: my elbows hurt for example: My back does: a weird taste in my mouth: righteous Diligence, give me some rapport with

These words, craft em like gems that are squeezxed And tormented to life, force it, force it to live, I need This living thing in me to express its repressed

Stuff so long repelled: don’t do me like A normal, hoggish perspective on the matchlit Cave we squander through: through and through,

I impress upon myself impressive gonging shouts, Right?: or do I never mention the invisibleness of What I speak of, you know, outside of just then.

. .  .   .    .     .      .       .        .      

Despite my own personal dilemmas, I have An element unknown by this practice,

Settled in decisive waves of calendar And rotation, space and juxtaposing,

Retracted stuff and statements left bled till Steam lost. I have these unknowavles

Without constraint as things my diction nails To the wall of the page. But I have

Dilemmas, things I create for to Be baffled by them, scorn, growls,

Soggy mittens in wintertime. Nothing Counterintuitive, I always say, gets past me.

I allow those confusions room in my material Cell, breathe out flowering my spent

Petals to a floor of verbiage. OK. What can I say ?? Though ?? Really,

That the cricketsong is unbelievable, The night drinks up that thick

Music; that everything now is considerable, And I decently understand; and that

Everything, even what I do not know, Is important. So as to this,

III.   Constantly, barely on a cuticle Would reality seem to stand for us;

You are not so fine, so tenuous as your situation, which is reality, And which offers up zero places for you to trip and fall into the sky.

Regretfully at that would the whole of reality disappear, as Soon as there were not these gravitational beings humans are, To classify and disseminate reality, which is in other words not What you think it is but what you will never see it as and more,

More than just a pretty thang, due to a sounding sunlight, due to, To say, an obstreperous daygloss over the city; but is in the worlds Behind admitting a lack of a name for this non-language, which Although remarkably loud on the still, static eaves, seems [yes] To have come overnight with the junipers. But the sense of sight,

The sense of sight simply was not auditory. And other things, Were fine, were fine as cuticle. Now, as for the problem of sight,– It was already a completely different sensory-experience, one I watched at once go wither off many roofs like flakes, go silent By the weeping mud round their walls overtook by river, but This not immediately. A sourceless jangling like of jewelry first:

Shattering out-seeming a white sun: a wake of these fragile things. Like paint-chips. Saw something, somehow ornamenting rays,– Wither from my grasping. For back then I’d left the peanut Gallery as per usual, my focus on imagination’s latest fare,

As I walked away from my cute little fucking friends or whoever. They went off none wiser, lolling their tongues At stonyfaced adults, so

I chose pursuing possible phenomena: I sense-guessed some Strange thing off there to my side, and in my sight alone:

It was as light, yet if light had A sound, a fastidious muttering to,

To complement its urging bright, and Brilliantine crisp form, giving

Marker in particular, as I noticed more, those looser, tattered Parts of sun and chidden dun. So as, in physicality or Whatever manifesting this gets called, to make

It sound its shifting throughout all degrees, cajoling and Maneuvering almost as if it had feet tapping steps to take.

I was 10, and though I kept awhile that booming stepping light In thickspun places for my mind to go and mend an ear for, And. Back me to that spot, so that itself the unilateral instant

Of perception would not dim, well so it dimmed, And I forgot the noise;

Cotton fills between my ears at the thought, to the point I you know like wouldn’t barely hear a foghorn; then Aggravation past recalling. I can’t now even know if

Anything is absent. That’s how bad it is. Events, E’en if they’d been in paint, certain ones’re more Past recalling than the bluntest detail

Of whatever I’d kept warm enough of it all, by The fire of possible to picture, there, you Know: in the mind’s eye. More important to Remember the erasure electrodes could feed Than the one they could stifle with a ball-gag.

That raged-out delight in your eye could Seed in you and with enough

Of this obscure hallucinogen consumed, zoom the pneumatic Parturitions what had been waiting to canter out out in hot Speech straight from braincavity, for

The benefit of your local Shaman: Into the brushy groins thus go

The Cocky British Adventurers, searching for the fountain Of youth, or at least some village where they can get high. The voodoo dey is pay to see, like, to cure incontinence;

Don’t tell! By the barrel in transport go things to forgetting; A given day, from spore to spore remits; direction is avoided Like a bad thing so we all go back to where it growed from

In the states. More than inner leagues of a breastbone, This is a serious matter. Or rooms we might Could spend all day a-lounge

Upon our rucksacks waiting for inherited luck To be what haunts us, that to crumble, buckle, Quick to breathe, then nothing,–would not so Succeed: spirit pulls us from the fingers of spirit With grand tweezerpairs,

But: what of the dangerous chemical overlapping, could that not Melt any elated feeling straight between its own two hands Lifting it, fruiting out the cracks, from that elation, once again, Which: are nay pieces of the will to dry up the anima/animus For good: like British testicles in the Rainforest its, your Very hands do not, refuse to

Let you handle, now, because, you Know, it will burn for awhile if even it, whatever is Controlling the nefarious block between

Whatever happiness of a sort and their significant Person: birthed into that happy flesh, that skin, That thing that will remind one, you, of the fabulous,

Unshed lair at the foot of the mean, corrosive stairs, Pregnant with mercy for the steps of light on it only.

Listen: go by that so as to seize new life: if wholly for more Artful-slung ascents, wax the temples of yr head And go under, and send accents of voltage, Pole to pole to pole.

WE ALL OF US are of what WE were,

Which cannot gather ‘mustard’ nor In mustering it up should you go without A sort of wheeling will: well: no soul should be Without a healing will: it which fights between Your lungs and what your heart insists

Was, has been there before: they, uh Will know they are observed And know not to do so There now; this too

Comes as natural As all these, as ventricle. There’s An aqueduct to tamper with.

Mine and mine through it–all the overwhelming shit of it all, For stuff yours. Just, don’t

Besiege, sweat and Sweat to illness; or make it yours; or do you and I,

Walking down the dirt road with our selves styled right in front Of us at the edge of madness–meanwhile, the road is at the edge Of the psychiatric hospital–pursue towards our to us so-so Talismans, like the reveille to break ‘us all’ into morning,

With an empiric dournesss and a poetic somberness like dirty rocks? Nay hope to find for this or that eclogue, a meaning punctual, as

We clean them like pissed Jockys, Answering only for the gold but in a

Locked eye–or interminable, breathless moment. These could Be spied by some among

Us less romantic as the crummy afterburners Of a godhead: but to us and others like ourselves not morsel at all, But at the very head

Of the war, and us the blood-mud of a battered theatre, rocketing For battlefield-next; to capture a frantic vibe or two

As might well make us frantic? To display The snack and succor of our wellbeing again, that is; Perhaps in a happiness the other there, at least

–Amongst these mossy graves: where yours, my, and Our ideologies get bestowed on, stoic although out of order, us, Again. Like some gift cherishing its other one,

We blind to our own cherishing. We tempted to hunker into place

On the flat of a large rock: and still we worry of A frightening mishearing of the argot from the first

To spell you out as tending to follow your arbitrary wisps again, Dodging the spitting of these asps forlorn by the same proxy Sense walks out to let fill for it too, whom try and try in fidgets To tell you realistically: you is, uh

Mercurial to sell your snappy deathtraps To the others sitting hunching In the back of the light, awaiting the unveiling Of The Random Vision: it all, and it will, flies back at you, The one elated: from their dark shelters it comes To make that noise you knew only light to. Then, as the speech

Of one given so much to dreams that it were a Sickness the mind ingratiated unto the Rest gives up the ghost and calls itself the same thing

Given to these corruptible seconds you’d happened to get The high beams on at the correct angle of phrasing-light, and Especially since it was not found, and by it I mean, this

Especial species, while scoping out out of greed for an exotic Metaphysical animal rustling softly somewhere dangerous along The curtain, made entirely of infinities: you

Waited for to steal the show, but, then, kabamm, And we lose it: our salutary mistresses

Delayed the minstrelsy, time melted, weak shooting At a fenced-in target: as we themselves blast

All motors, play chicken with feelings fine as cuticle: the Cheering to get mutuality in a busted zipper halfway Down the coat: I sleep in a cot: don’t feel sorry: for you:

Our someplace mistakes beautifully without any Communication’s dotage, without interest, In it for the art: usher us along this rock a bit, And all to stomp down the feeling.

The freckled derelict impetuous parts Our molded forming spits panoply to graciously, as Our freeze of eye at each other, and with that a dolor of collar And crimp at the shoulder, and hands to arms clasping Tenderness to the hilarious sound of trombones:

To filtered, moribund animosity all is as spiritual adiposity, and to The spine’s own place in hurting is there a weakest when true

Hue. Trickling Minuses down each disc, doth it, doth it doth it, and Bring you to the tomb the tomb, tomb, tomb.

Happiness focused atom-wise to blathering lambs’ limbs’ Context pillowy gets us confuséd fledged from right to left

And then to do, uh, do so is Yet the where where is someplace stronger, smaller. Right eh ?? The speech, argot, recommends its woes Like fashionable trinkets at a gas station. And decides

Us to go down the drain like toiletflush these untimely Dissimilars, once posh, now as but the gourmand’s Misery. Before the game, he ate a bunch of hotdogs,

Came to the eating contest for a snack. Yet which is of tidings Is that being flatlined on nonbeing like a medley of thrown

Sounds through to the end of the roll of the last toilet -paper in the WholeWORLDEver. Crates us as off

We go like in a box to nice otherness, while Seconds remind us of the ghost

In the moon we forgot to call mightily and we are Now stuck in this bricklump desuetude.

In the very moon our trembling lips lie about knowing it Afar, and I care not how long the line spits landscape; Don’t; or does perhaps. I want to speak visions Of colors. And now for another

Thing: this is different because it leaves up to discussion The rather ornamental debacle. Dry squalor.

Heated up desertions of eye. Fickle hold, o hold. Broken record you is. Well: my army had Nothing with it come to much

But a father what that grabbed the attitude off The collar of the young punk with spots on’is faythe. Like golly.

Repetition you let us pay for your drinks And get stabbed like Marlowe in the eye. Shiver, Species. For it is what we tell you do.

Collective unconscious needs dramamine stash, before All civilization hurls into the closest bucket and- -Frightens the children. Pellucid is the sky’s heart. He’ll know what to do and, uh, what forgive.

Something cold in this heart. Heal me, heart. Respond A bit too soon to the call. Discuss politics. Fuck you. And be Young Joyce uncomprehending at the

Christmas table with Old Dante Muckering up the gaffe of talking blunt about

The PRIME MINISTER Bad gaffe made the more.–

I took a thousand stout men and made them soldiers. Still the question was not solved: do we or do we not Exist: I founded lackeys like the Prime Mover I is. I am, Tell me, young lamb, [eyecontact] I am like

Roses sweet-smelling yes. I have an ankle that is a chip off

The shoulder and there is so much you’d never suspect through The blinds: you are blind to much: anything but old rinds I give

You to see. Of cataclysmic woe, Is uncouth to say it comes, betimes Betimes.

I natty up the RansomStash of money, think I hurl in some other dimensionanony

Rubbled out of zeitgeist. Like what’s left of what Was once important. MAKE EVERYTHING EXPLODE Says the mind, to the maker, and dirigible the static Plane being’s on or is not on. I have a backache. A good part of the poem is that you do not

Know who the referent ‘I’ is. Wonder retracting statements From itself is and remains the wonder of those statements It did not pursue, nor highlight.

That’s what I tell yeh. My GOD who how he did it ?? Till next horn’s blowing.

The new fodder’s here.

I look at my watch all pithy. I want to talk about something

Different, Now:

IV.   These moving things, in

Front of my memory are in front there, as if they could be In front: preparing to be remembered. As like water floating On air, an air once obvious lightness, now heavy but only as Waged by its distinction plashing down weightless;

A rose fighting God for a crumb. What I thought mine,

The diviningrod for the gold that is as it is, while The dappled glinting hurlings-out of sun its Buried symbolism: the rod was looking Surly and sad at me

With its inanimate, punk-poker countenance, asking an Arresting conference between myself and all What is in the coming-trough of that

Empty ray my sun begins behind, waiting For the lordly entropy unkind bids for power Wreak of all over the mystified Others’ whispered Commissions to blesséd rekindlings of an ease For suns as mine, and for them

Eagerer plumbs the problem into the general, poetic Selfhood you and I equate to the choral bastion For all the body politic to get unto itself

A final haunt for meetings with those in the field; First, get me to the shallow symbol quicker, for The more is, within, that is

Our fighting, unfound parts, found Out to their believing-to-be-seen, awkward, Aggrandizing root, the more is seen Human all our trickling signs;

As, for example, the professor nodding Dipping glasses from eyes might say

Profoundly, You have me breach into your sociopathy: Behind these displayed tears eyes mutely Carry over bucket by bucket

Past the lids, then Closed goes your roving imagination To the many grunted teachings, wanders to

The place affect and displeasure dwell In commune much as the sun and moon Are. You contrive and contrive Despite a lack of closure. Evil

Grunts; then, the old magician steps upon his Own tricky sidewalk, back broken, spine Flailing out of the flesh like

Sides of things intentionally prized, for Being many-sided, being peripheral, being thus The clamp-down on upon the rift between a Self and self, the murderous wage, a drifting Buoyed survival technique, culminating In the petty boutique where make fancy our

Designer desires. Manically let you grin, let you-

-And find me there and bitterly beneath your skin, Interred, an errant bug clutched by the teeth Of cells, entirely made of mature dismay

At this rattling feature or that, a singing twitch Ersatz dissolves in simply prudery, although the Match is boundless once uncovered to its Eloquent extremes, its funny bets

Atop a covered wagon on the turnpike to Work, ensuing gases here and there, plucking Marred hairs and ingrown nails from the More similar decripitudes of life, yet leaving still

The undone pyre of waxing-worship to Intend itself beyond, beyond a folly, and beyond An enigmatic coach a breed of stag gallops With, like a friend, a friend or fiend,

A whipping to the nakedness our traveling, A scorching of impassioned earthen to What’s the sillier darkness of conceit, deceit, Received by amplifying weeping, or By entrancing the metaphoric tides an Element-electric wouldn’t send

To the chop-house. Let whom lay beneath The tarpaulin conceive this second poem with Next day’s wrathful heat to incubate

Idea, idea of shrouded modern people Messing with themselves with chemical And flirty doctrines flirting on the bilious; We are about what sadly is not serious.

And you, cheap gourmand, upon his food And slaughtering by the minute every truth His 'times’ replayed like plays in college football

Or, which multiplied disheartening with Kids; which antiquated meme and vine impelled To the furnace, and were meant to be an irony Without a foreground, or just merely funny Will, in time, call all of itself lamed

By richer generations whom do not tie severely The knot so early, nor that one of frame-of-mind,

Nor vicious as the adding of more poem to This poem, this tape, this wrong, this blare,

This carousel, could our analyses of flickering face Be less human than the rest. Dispassionate tools.

.   .   .     .     .

To jealous the color of every real ordinary. Mass composites are what the want want To be: load up my carriage, run faces by me For the right one to win

Me over, roam grim sealingwax doubles Like they were the robotic asswipe Your linear ability commands to howitzer The shit out of. I want

To destroy all the air. Then of course, would fain destroy This feigned couscous, by words Jellied in the fridge next to the words, and which gets Warmed up, connotes feelings words alive Trumpet menagerie by menagerie. Flown out of itself

The memory wants back to mentioning, Dries off on the water: the weight of all of this Wants to invite God and the rose To brunch, you know, just to talk

About maybe focusing instead on the sad Memory, unsaid. Split like atom

The discontented flash of thundering. The only thing deeper is unwanted

By you, though you think you do, but no, you Do not, do not know what you

Want from these tears the Result of a brief squabble that should Have been rightly emptied into

The Well Of Lidded Impactfulnation, I mean, man, imaginpainshun. The sidewalk entered a flaccidity unbefore Seen, saturated by these decked freckles of Unbelievable, haunting rain as

The city burned just to get some light On this one page in shadow or Night merely spilled,

Rotting, all over this oops And contracted by the mean tacklers Of bulls. Then revert to those gutted, realize

The pen is dusty and empty, the tears A stupid fragility that makes broke the back Of a mountain not included in

The latest Jake Gyllenhaal deluxe set Of withered, weathered - - sexual frustration In the form of abstract painting full of themselves That is, mainly stuffed with their own selves, Which, pretty much, is everybody you Just had fight with, like, what

They are like, since we’re filled with Ourselves or at worst another fills or is filled By us, which is dangerous especially For emotional bohemians on the klutzy radar Muttering germs of new shit In the corner, like, the

Corner of the crooning voice you can’t place, Can’t raise, faze, amaze, or daze; What ridiculous fun it is to chop the world in half, Leaving only robotic faces tunefully chosen In essence. Maybe you lose the song But it comes back early once That nifty ‘copsiren simulator’ busts Everyone fleeing from the party, and an Avalanche of high folk pour out

Like tears of once what was, unto lids, The resultant dripping, squeezed into their lighted Aspect, performing light again

On the random Chair of Life where drunk poet sit, Whispering saturated sidewalks, eating couscous

By themself, since everyone of us has turned Into a wax rendition of the invisible, and by this Needle of a difference doth split the chained

Opines of unhealable hunger’s dust Where the bulls we fear once were, are not At present.

Dance, dance, ludicrous, failing mind, for nigh you won’t again So mourn, you, rebel from the rest of yourself and die,

Remove in revving happiness up what hath Embraced you, baffled, from two steps away.

It is the corner’s voice. It is the coroner’s voice, bespeaking Valuable Soul, but sans shirt, shoe

. .  .   .    .     .      .

truly keep me in your bad massacred heart that lunges against your ribcage like it’s selling something it’s like an animal against you you know

find out what lingers between you and beats and stales there and planetary in the dust without a friend but the one you pay for

without an anchor you live your life to listen for some kinetic power somewhere there

unduly and lacking but what you have pawed at for so long now you have

it so live to stir people do such well this man is a tired broken thing wearing an old tattered coat he is grimacing against the bitter cold and

of his way of writing he is sure that he is without an echo back to himself peacefully he lights a fire beneath his fragrant ass he is of the metronome of fart and feeling in feeling

it is in the basics you reach for the flower in my lungs through my throat you have an ascertaining of body in your body

you wild as fire wrinkle orange and yellow separately of it you are the fire of beauty of both

you stick to listening to what’s between the chambers of desire your mind goes crazy and gets stuck in yet

without feelings without the hope of feelings you still feel you are the argot of feelings you want to waste your life trying to fix me I want to taste my life in your ice cream’d hands I want to desire the reality behind things a bit

I want to hire another human to attend to my morals and come upon a spree of finite conclusions for me

our register of voice makes enough of that for the two of us to hear it however low

to wander throughout and divide the equation we would have solved using another’s breathy brain

tell me I am true for what I think of that is that I am untrue tell me my own wrinkles of fire again despoil meaning from the craning of my neck to look upwards at a sky filled with myself filled with the clouds of myself and it makes

me go away into the feelings try me with those feelings and keep my hunch cracked like the tar across the road reality follows

driven by those high and fruitful voices…

[grawsay]

ok                         im just gonna say                         im holding you to your promises  every day                         im not gonna be on your ass                         but im not accepting last                       if you dont live up to your word you'll move from second to third                         then the past : im serious though                         even though i didnt do it in a serious way                         i love you from you head to your toe baby

You Na wait stop                         What was my word

me im not gonna keep telling you everyday                         i feel like im the master, you're the puppet                         we're not on the same page                                               and i get lost for words like chelsea Dummett                         everytime i see your face

You Ok can we pause the free styling                         What's my word

me no we can't pause                         when it comes to us there are no laws                         im not the boss so stop telling me to instruct you can you read back our conversation before you overthink and it destructs you                                               i feel like an old record player on repeat                         you asked me some things right before we went to sleep                         that night                         when we had that big fight                         And you brought your A game cause you're the samurai                         alright im done                         but that was fun

you So how's it feel                         Thinking back to the times when to  I was like a snack or maybe a meal                         Now you're steady saying im changing but baby it's just the fantasy becoming real                         And Your not getting all of me n u don't kno how to deal                         So I guess rn now I'll take this opportunity to tell u how I feel all the while hoping I don't keep it too real So now I'm in out of being defensive putting up shields                         Blocking u out                         And every time we fight I b locking u out                         Too often finding myself knocking u out Out of your space of being my girlfriend                         I'm running out of ideas praying to God so he can send                         N I'm never one to follow with the crowd and keep up with the trend                         So I can just cut u off and let this just end                         I'm not sure if this end I will befriend you                         Cuz I rele love that I get to call u my boo                         Kno it's not Thursday but I wanna throw back to when we're just kool N All this fighting got me sick but I'm sure it's not the flu Not on the show with the blue dog but I'm looking for a clue                         You're asking if I care  wondering if it's true                         Got me wondering if u doubt the fact tht I love you And honestly I kno to myself this is just one of them phases                         Back then u were cool now you're hot like the fire when it blazes And now I'm lost in time checking out spaces losing parts of me on some many misplaces Attempting to control time so I could put a switch on the paces noticed tht we showing each other different sides can't recognize each other like we got different faces But I'm sticking around tryna see this thru cuz I got this feeling with u is where my place is

Me You said you WERE a snack?                         You ARE a snack                         I never stopped adoring you so please remember that                         You dont always tell me whats wrong                         but always "hey beautiful" every morn                         And when i get in my feelings i wanna leave this meeting is adjurned                         That's bad on my part                         But things were different in the start ANd now all i see are fallacies   You saying i was living in a fantasy Got me questioning if you and i were meant to be Or if i'm really a priority I dont doubt you love me i doubt our compatibility And it's killing me How things changed so fast Im struggling to stay relevant but for now im last Last on your mind IT wasn't this way in the past Some days you used to miss so much you were skipping class Some nights you called me more than you were grabbing my ass Not saying i dont like that I have no choice but to fight back You dont see that we're drifting and that's a fact i could go and just walk out and say that's a wrap but you're the best i ever had It's just the change and all this locking out that's got me so mad We're supposed to be growing                         I'm tired and it's showing                         But im not giving up as long as the wind is blowing f                         I know im a bit pessimistic                         it's my way of being realistic                         Sometimes i dont understand my own thoughts like it's cryptic                         I wanna see you succeed                         i dont wanna see you without me                         and its looking like that cant coincide coincidentally                         Baby sit down and think a minute                         is the relationship in you or are you in it                         are you all about us or are you all about me?                         Without the two of us what will this relationship be?                         i wanna take care of you and you take care of me cant you see                         i cant always be there phyically                         but i can emotionally                         But you said it takes time to rely                         and i keep having dreams that one of us dies                         one of us is left to cry                         and ask why                         why didnt we give our all when we had time                         : time is a factor yes but time can't stop us                         If time is our transportation then we're missing the bus                         Im not losing trust I have insecurities                         Loving, trusting relying, opening and getting closer should come to us naturally                         and i don't mean immediately                         but once we're losing as the days go by indefinitely                         that makes me question if we will last or if we're meant to be

You You're never last in my mind and thts something u don't see In the past it was just u and me No work no dance all my time was just free And now those things are here and they got me busy Not showing u attention and affection like before to this I admit I'm guilty But I will always love u even tho I'm not Whitney But I keep asking for u to bare with me I told u what was up u said u understood and deep down I was like yippie                         Thinking u were in the same page with me                         But it's clear tht your not                         You get upset and start saying some hurtful shit and ask me why I'm affected like I'n some kind of robot Doing stuff like tht to u is something I could not Now I'm asking where is the patience u claim u got N I ask myself will this work it's clear it might not Tht particular thought in my head is like somebody pointed the gun to my chest and took the shot And the bullet is in there and damn it's hot Everyday is just another day Tryna hold me cool and breeze it through like a palm tree and sway And It seems like my positivity bugs u like a black beetle like my name was lee swae Wait his name is swae lee And yea I find myself wondering too if it's meant to be And u got some kinda of relationship agenda it would seem to me U wanna accomplish certain things with us so we can grow like a tree But baby u need u to understand u just gota let some thing be Cuz what's kool for u to give and do me not be kool to me Cuz regardless of what u see time is a rele rele big deal to me Certain things I can't just pull of thin air⁠⁠⁠⁠ Cuz for those things got come from within me where they're anything but a thin layer U said there's no one stopping me but me But I'm the biggest obstacle they'll ever be So just giving u what u want just like tht isn't so easy And again and again I've asked h to bare with me U say yea but honestly u can't take it and I can tell cuz every time u get a little more cold icee But I'm trying so hard why can't u see Now bare in mind I said it takes time and not tht it can never be So here I am again feeling stupid now asking u to bare with me Trust me we'll grow just u wait and see                         But tell me of something u kno thts worthwhile tht comes easy                         While u think In the mean while I'll ask u to have faith in me                         So yea here I am again asking u to bare with me But honestly if u can't wait for me to be who I am supposed to be I'm not chaining u down so if u want to leave just go free                         Cuz time is of essence and it's just not free cuz often time we can hear ppl say it's money                         And if tht the case I don't wanna rob u                         Cuz I rele don't wanna see us having a court case on some divorce court boo So if it's just too much then u can just do u                         But just kno I do love you

me This is not going to get easier i hope you realize You're going to get busier as time flies responsibilities are going to hit you by surprise If im alrady loosing my place in your life then what would the time ahead lies Im asking that you please hear my cry I dont wanna be with another guy I dont see you as a robot You said you would change your status and up to now you did not Stop making these promises especially if you're not down with it if one thing after a next fails how am i gonna keep believing shit You're right it's not a big deal not changing is wont make us less real but it wouldn't take an hour to let the world know that im your girl though And people start observing The things they said start hurting telling me it cause your window is left open shit had me moping You promised to show me off i guess i was hoping i tried to stop bugging you but im not coping all that bottling up it started showing how am i supposed to bare with you when you're not doing simple things i asked you to do You're of the view that you're supposed to hold back and that's true Im trying to be content and not asking for anything big thing you're acting like im asking you for a ring I know you got more to add to the table than you bring Im your queen not just some fling I keep talking and asking but you're not listening That's making me doubt I always say if you can put your dick in my mouth you can listen without me having to shout and sometimes you get frustrated and shout and idk what that's about i love you but if you keep suggesting i leave i will                         yes i get thoughts but with your suggestions it starts to build                         the last guy that keep suggesting really didnt want me to stay                         and im happy we did this today                         a civil way to say what we have to say                         i really hope we can work all this out                         but if you don't claim me and keep suggesting i leave im out