FluffThe Diary of His Supreme and Condescending Majesty, King Stalwart Prettipaws, the One and OnlyMore Like This
The housemaid has just given birth to a second child. It really is too much. So much noise. So much commotion. The footman appears to have forgotten I exist. I had to give the order twice this morning before I was fed.
However. I am the King - I must be gracious about the situation. They may be just servants but it is their home too. It would be cruel of me to expect them to leave at this stressful time. Perhaps I will go and stay in another palace for a while. My kingdom is certainly large enough for me to be able to find something to my liking.
Of course, there have been all those skirmishes with local pretenders to my throne recently. But I think the situation is now in paw. (No-one can yell and fluff themself up like I can.) It has undeniably been stressful though. And now with the staff reproducing… All in all it might be a good idea to get away for
Scratch and DentThis body’s no temple.More Like This
It is not my home,
But I still have to live there,
So I will drive it like the rental it is.
I will try not to total it,
But I do not want my deposit back.
No stranger to the scratch and dent section,
Some days my skin starts to feel
Like the plastic on old people’s furniture,
And I start to feel
Like the world’s finest dust collection.
Somebody call Guinness.
I’ve never taken ski lessons,
But I’ve been told
If you never fall down,
Then you’re not trying hard enough.
I don’t know how to play guitar,
But I know this:
If your fingers aren’t bleeding,
‘cause tattoos are so boring.
Good stories so rarely written in ink.
I’m not saying scars are sexy.
Scars are stories,
And like all stories,
Some are better than others.
It is not the scar itself.
It is not the story.
It is the portrait of the artist,
The sound and the fury.
It is so much better than scrapbooking.
Memoirs of mosh pits, food fight
butterfly facesyoung poet girl,More Like This
& biblical beliefs
like frostbite in
makes my blood
& echo in butterfly
hollow yellow eyes
she smells the night
like blood on
rotting fingertips –
oh, young poet girl,
can you listen to
the trials & the
tears of our sun,
on the dirty veins
of our blue eclipses
& timeworn famines?
oh, young poet girl,
do you have the time?
Got me all crazy.You got me st-stuttering, my tongue fl-fluttering, spitting out cut-up-words––sputtering, before my mind can utter a decent mutter, i'm drownin' in––More Like This
visions of you, starting askew, rotated by my brain back into view, you're stripping down to your shoes, do it slower–– hey I like your tattoo, come on closer so we can do this taboo.
––Now turn around, lay on the ground, face up to me; while I bound you down, make you repeat a familiar noun, let me hear that fucking sound, as I grind round and round, oh look what I found.––
Say hello to my little friend, didn't take long for him to ascend, let's see how far he extends––i'll take it slow and sexy, do a little flexing, drag it out until it's perplexing and vexing––got you clenching your jaw, scratching my skin with your claws, every time it gets hot, I pin you down… n pause.
––Ok let's play, it's worth the delay, ima ride it like a sleigh
Gunshots from Tulips [Inhale.More Like This
Only fools think of how the air was born.
I scatter the sand to the lips of the ocean.
The seashells and the corals could use the extra
seeing as how I use mine on duplicate facsimiles,
sitting on cloud clichés
coming to peaceMore Like This
we search through channels
of our desires and dreams
for a piece of happiness
we can swallow like a mountain
filling our empty bellies
with a sense of pride
we live a life
for winning someone
or winning over something
that feeds us
with sense of achievement
against shadows falling
at the end of the day
how could we then
breathe an air of freedom
when there are ravens
of anxiety flying the skies
that knows only to shine
in bright blue horizon
somewhere we have forgotten
the shape of our hearts
and how it beats in a rhythm
when we listen to the song
of a love it holds within
living isn't surviving
and it is certainly not a job
where you can run harder
than your neighbor
to receive a certificate
for finishing on time
living is when you mend
your feelings together
into a tapestry of a rainbow
that shines under a mournful rain
before a thirsty sun
wanting to rise within chambers
of your sacred soul
living is how often you let
the river of your emotions
flow through your veins
assuring the p
Leaves Fall Like Tearsif I recall correctlyMore Like This
I don't believe I told you
why I called you autumn
anyone could see
that your hair was the gold
of fresh turned leaves
and your eyes were the warmth
of a sweet fire
everyone knew that your voice
was the playful crisp air
and your laugh was the memories
that fly on the fall wind
and your porcelain skin
was the pale full moon in the sky
but if I also recall
I don't believe you understood
I called you autumn
your mind was a cold bright flame
that only a few could grow accustom to
your dreams were just out of reach
like the bright leaves that fluttered away
and even after that you still smiled as they passed
your tears were the wind through the trees
silent and hidden yet utterly there
but I never let you see
that the main reason
just like autumn you came and went
without saying hello,
but more importantly
without saying goodbye
and like autumn
I'll wait for you for years to come
but there is one flaw in my name for you;
autumn comes and goes, but returns
You Will Be ForgottenGaze into this sheet of glassMore Like This
Would you tell me what you see
When the watch stops ticking
This mirror will shatter
Along with your perceptions of me
Get your last twisted word in
Would you tell me what you think
When that lighthouse goes out
This ship will split in two
And I will float to watch you sink
Shove a knife into my flesh
Would you stay to watch me bleed
When my body shivers and convulses
This last breath will fade
Eternal winter comes just for me
But still you have not won a thing
Would you care to argue with the dead
When all is done and cold and grey
The ravens may carry me away
But you will rot in a morbid coral bed
I will grow wings
You will be forgotten
Sins Of The Fallen FollowerI am not who I used to beMore Like This
I am just a faded image of my past
The vibrant colors that screamed potential,
has become mute, with the passing of time and the sinking of my eyes
The decaying of my already broken wings
has caught up to my futile efforts to mend them.
Surrounded by the fallen feathers
that have long turned into dirt.
I hold them close, succeeding only to add more filth to my already soiled soul.
Kneeling on the mound of my fruitless endeavors
I seek the light shining behind me
But I am too ashamed to turn around...
ChristmasIf Santa Claus was a serial killerMore Like This
The world would be in the shit
It enters without difficulty into our fireplaces
The alarm is disconnected for him
This guy is intelligent
Every year, he does what he wants
But Christmas is also
A magical time
family, friends, good food
A tragic time
the gifts rotten
the firs possessed by the garlands
The poultry sacrificed
to be alone the christmas day
My Salve  - Encounters in GermanyMore Like This
It’s been years since I graduated from Hogwarts, and yet, the painful memories of being shunned still didn’t leave me. My time studying there was the worst. My classmates didn’t want to know me; they didn’t even want to look at me. The people that I managed to befriend turned against me as soon as they found out about my heritage. The teachers treated me the same, though I might have caught the headmaster looking at me with something short of pity. Every day, I thought to myself, Why did daddy have to do what he did? Why? Why? Why?
There was only one person who stayed with me through all that, one person who knew what I was going through, one person who had to live with it like I did: my brother, Scorpius Malfoy. Yes, that’s right. I’m the daughter of the anti-esteemed Draco Malfoy, the one who fought against his own kind, the one who fought alongside the army of Lord Voldemort, the one who joined the plotting of killing t