

CombustionPretty flames sparkle And dance before me I want to touch them To play in their beautyCombustion
Prance between their destruction Frolic in the pain Be one with oblivion Eek out existence in a burst of extasy
Let fire lick my heals As I twirl past its dangers Singe just the tips
While my fleeting existence flies
Caress me sweet inferno Let the endorphines rush through me Engulf me in a blaze That burns into eternity
No beginning, no end Just a hazy sheet of timelessness A crackling, twisting glow Great and glori


"Clothes Make the Man"Clothes Make the Man"Clothes Make the Man"
Hot breath nipped down her neck. Melanie Anderson looked at her shoulder, which was currently occupied by the ogling head of her eight-year old son. Wordlessly, she returned to cutting the packaging tape off of the brown box before her. Slowly. Infinitesimally. "Hurry-hurry-hurry-hurry-hurry-hurry . . ." Small hands vibrated her shoulder. She bit the inside of her cheeks forcefully, pinning down the corners of her lips. She continued snipping, piloting the scissors with unfettered deliberation. "Hurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurry!" Fingers hooked into her shirt and tugged more adamantly. M


SpecificityPhilip PickardSpecificity
Specificity
Jay pulled a strip of toilet paper off the roll, folded it in half twice, and unlatched the stall door. He turned and dropped the paper in the bowl, then carefully lifted his foot and pushed the handle. The water spun and the toilet roared as it sucked up the paper seat cover. Jay quickly stepped out to avoid any flecks of water that might shoot out from the centrifugal force, and shuddered ever so slightly. He hated the loud toilets; they always felt like they were going to detonate in an unholy explosion of decayed toilet paper, excrement, and smut-ridden key chains that careless people had dropped in. Jay c
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~Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave~
Jareth, the Goblin King
--
ʎɐqǝ uo pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɐ ʎnq ı ǝɯıʇ ʇsɐן ǝɥʇ sı sıɥʇ
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