#poisoningink

[poisoningink-blog]

Her face was the same long stone, still. That cool expression that only ever stuck in movies. "It sucks when you and your mom can't find a concealer in your shade to cover up a stupid, embarrassing birth mark." I kicked some dirt around as the swing swung its course, flying clumsily. Her eyes lit up as I spoke. She grinned. "But ya cover it up, then ain't no one gonna see it." /Well shucks, now ain't that the damned point?/ She just smiled like she'd found a pot of gold, smiled right at my plain face and I didn't get it. Then she turned back to the rising sun and kicked the air some more, beating it until she soared. She'd giggle every once in a while, even as the sun let the sky smooth itself out into a clear blue.

[poisoningink-blog]

Seeing

When you spend too much time in front of a mirror, You'll forget that you weren't born to see anything other than the palms of your hands and the tops of your feet. You'll forget that seeing your reflection is just as unusual as the stars You'll forget that skipping stones is a privilege You'll hear that appearances don't matter, but you've never had the thought clear as glass "appearances matter" You were never instructed in the ways of reverse vanity that still involves lip stick You used to see your reflection in the stream you'd fish leaves out of You used to see your reflection in the paintbrush that you scraped upon bleach white paper You used to know that you existed without the proof right in front of you You used to know that a reflection seemingly distorted by nothing was not proof, but manipulation When you spend too much time in front of a mirror instead of inside it, You forget that you were never meant to see yourself at all.

[poisoningink-blog]

A/N: This is just a little something from a story I'm writing right now. Hopefully you guys are excited for what is to come. *crickets* ~ Enjoy "I'm not in love with you." A beat of silence stops the walls from pounding to the music. "Good to know, buttercup. Do you mind if I get back to the party now? I think my drink has miss-" "Let me finish." Joe cuts her off with a shaky voice, louder than Cole's. The taller figure looks up from the cherry wood floor as confidently as she can, taking a deep breath and pushing out her chest. Cole raises her left eyebrow, making to say something again before Joe beats her to it. "I don't love you because I don't know you." Joe's fists clench a little tighter, and Cole seems to notice this as her eyes glance to the girl's side. "You put up this front. This personality that's not yours. It's a strong fucking defense because I've never been able to crack it." "Look sweet heart, whoever-" "I'm not done." Joe's words were becoming faster, more rushed as she met Cole's eyes. "I'm not in love with you because I don't know you. I'm not in love with your stupid little show because it's not real, and frankly, you're a complete dick when you put it up, but I am in love with your eyes." Cole blinks blandly for a moment, then a smirk spreads across her face. "You interrupted my conversation with my date to tell me that I have pretty eyes?" Cole makes a noise halfway between a chuckle of amusement and a scoff. "You're such a little girl Joe." Joe snaps at that. "Your date? You mean your toy of the night? Do you think I can't hear you every night? No, I know for a fact that you're extra loud on purpose. You're such a- ugh, you're so infuriating! I'm in love with the look in your eyes, not your actual eyes, you dick!" Joe stops when she sees that look in Cole's eyes again. Joe's chest heaves against the cold, midnight air as she steps closer to Cole. "I was right wasn't I?" Cole chuckled darkly, her ever-present smirk etched onto her pink lips. "Look, I don't know what your on, but go find someone else to fuck with. You probably need it." She says, scanning Joe with her eyes. "You haven't had any action in months." With that, Cole's out of sight, and after getting over the initial "Why did I expect anything different from her?" feeling and searching the party, Joe concludes that she's definitely not here anymore. Joe sits against the wall in the dark and smoky upstairs hallway, a beer glued to her hand as she listens to the sound of boys and girls having some "fun" in the adjacent rooms. Her thoughts shoot straight to Cole, and she thinks that the dark haired girl is probably having some fun of her own right now. Joe closes her eyes and tips her head back, feeling the music through the heels of her bare feet. She's tired, but she's not going to sleep. The night is too inviting this time.

[poisoningink-blog]

Clear Black

Just two months. He was known to us for just two months before he decided to leave. Though it really wasn't much of a decision, now was it? Two months for us, years for him. He had had enough, and just wanted to feel again, but he was in limbo, and limbo is confusing and foggy as fuck. Clearing the clouds wasn't an option, and no one could lift the fog for him. So he made everything clear by the breathless air around him. A clear black that will forever haunt his corpse's skull.

[theantisocialstuff]

Fav time of the day and the last time you told someone you love them?

crap I forgot I reblogged that and then went out to dinner

Fav time of day: Like 5am

Last time I told someone I love them: About 5 seconds ago

- Send me a number -

[poisoningink-blog]

My Story

This is not meant to be a sad story, just one that won't be finished for a long time. I've lived in poverty for the majority of my life. I've lived with a knife over my head, held only by the thin string of child support tied loosely to the exposed supports of our ceiling. When the hand of a man that used to leave bruises on my skin was thrown out of my life, I was punished. I was punished for not telling, I suppose, for my mother never found out. I was kept in a cold place where in the snow was rest, and on the ratty blanket-covered floor was work. We slipped slowly into keeping less and less comforting items in our company, but I was never broken. I knew we were tight in money and more so on food, but I always kept up in my advanced classes in a not-so-advanced school. My vocabulary was steadily growing as always, and a word slipped into my class work as the mud mixed with ice outside the cracked window. Poverty, and I knew what it meant. I learnt what poverty was when I could tell the difference between hunger pains and the growing of my breasts. A year has passed and mother was accepted as a teacher in the school I was soon to be enrolled in. We could now afford luxuries such as new books and fine point pens. That is when I broke, and all I could think to do was to stop thinking. Memories stopped catching up with me as they had for so many years, and I remembered that financially happy does not mean happy in a world where home has left you so many times. Now I am always tired. Not by the blisters on my hands from hauling hay and digging fence posts all day. Not anymore, but from the sleep I was awoken so fairly from, by the grease in my hair at two past noon. I knew the definition of tired when I could tell the difference between hunger pains and the growing of my breasts. -Sable Wood

[poisoningink-blog]

Today was my last day of this school year. I was reading on my phone, and my headphones just started playing music. My first thoughts were somewhere along the lines of, "This isn't my music." But then I realized, it is. It's my old music. I just closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in the cold air of the dark walls surrounding me, and I felt free. I felt a lot happier than I have felt in a long time, and I hope that whoever you are, you listen to the age old saying "It gets better." Because it really does, and you don't always need Summer for that to happen.

[poisoningink-blog]

Swings the Wrong Way

I love your love, even though it's not for me. The way you say hello, the way you ask me if I bleed. I love everything about you, even the fact that you love him, and that's what kills me. A/N: My feelings for another are forever unrequited, but that's okay. Here, have this shit poem.