#dailydemons

[leniboo]

Story boards . . . #sketch #storyboard #dailydemons

[bfm-5000]

Design available. Message or come by the shop for scheduling. #DemonSkullTattoo #DailyDemons #SkullAndPeonyTattoo #BFMTattoos #417Tattoos #SkullTattoos (at Bryan F.N. Myles Tattoos)

[808empire]

[gooseafer21]

4-5-16

Call me and tell me you've got a bag packed for me to come with you. Tell me we're going to paradise while we're flying down I-20. Convince me probation isn't important as my volunteer sheet flies out the window. Remind me how good it used to feel with the windows down and the radio too loud to hear my screaming. Play my favorite songs on purpose just to see the look on my face even though I sing it all in the wrong key. Put rain through the speakers when I start to get quiet and I'll tell you more than you ever wanted to know about my life. When hate me plays please don't turn it off, it comforts my mind that I'm not the only one with that mindset. When my grandpas song comes on hold my hand as I cry I know I still won't be over it. When I ask you questions, don't get nervous it's my way of getting to know you. When we stop to get food joke with me during the meal so my mind doesn't get heavy. When I miss home tell me about my dreams of a home that I created with dozens of animals and the sound of tiny children laughing hair as red as my blushing face, futures as bright as my skin on the sun. When I can't sleep from the voices screaming in my head sing me to sleep like I've done for you so many times. When I can't face my life anymore run away with me and be my savior. When it all goes wrong call me and tell me you have a bag packed for me and to come with you.

[gooseafer21]

You ever do something you know your not supposed to do? The excitement of breaking the rules, the adrenaline rush it brings can block out anything else in the world. But the fear it brings when you realize the consequences, yet even then you discover the reward is so much greater than the cost you begin to not care. You do it more and more, you become crafty at hiding it. An artist in your own sense, a mastermind when it comes to your craft. Nobody can touch you or even think of talking you out of it. You're addicted without even realizing it, you hide it so well your best friends don't even notice. But what happens next? When the day you get caught & nobody trusts you again? When they find little clues because now they know what to look for? When you crave it but you've gone so long without it you're scared of what may happen if you give in? You feel sick for wanting it, yet very human in the sense of at least you're feeling something now something you had to become used to again. Can I survive it again, or will I crumble in my own fantasies?

[gooseafer21]

I hate this

I hate that despite having a good fucking night as soon as I'm alone all I can think about is cutting. I know they said addictions are hard to give up but why does it continue to be hard? When is life supposed to get easier?

[gooseafer21]

Curves

I am lost in attempts to find myself. The words describing my life foul does not cover in content. I am fascinated by my own destruction, obsessed with my own blood. I adore the way my skin looks with the remnants of a blade curving along the side of my thigh. Gone months with resisting, but all I crave is to break once more, yet I know if I give in I will crash and burn all over again. Trying to fight this off myself has proven more difficult than I planned, life is throwing curves I'm not sure I can dance to anymore. I just wish the music would stop.

[gooseafer21]

I've lost myself in things I swore I'd never touch again realizing more & more how cruel this world can be on your own & I crave to be apart of anything to avoid being alone with my own self my own thoughts my own voices in my head ever to haunt me in the deepest depths of my mind no liquor strong enough to save me no strand loud enough to block them out running everywhere trying to find some sense of comfort, of home that I was never shown yet ache for in the nightmares that awake me at night leaving me taunting my own scars curious to how my skin looked before them unable to remember it's smoothness the bumps and bridges similar to my life in its roller coaster of a ride that I am still not able to get off of yet constantly debating of jumping off at the highest point to come crashing down to a beautiful oblivion of what I dream to be