#silly prose

[chromaticprosperity]

Lights only shine for rocket. Join me now, hand in hand, a colorful world will fall down on its knees. Until a single star illuminates all. Just press the light and meet your salvation in the godly arms of a man in black

21+/Indie RP Giovanni/Any RP format/heavy on the criminal rp with vanni

[just-4-thought]

When you want to know how I feel about you, it helps to know how I feel about soup.

"Would you like a cup or a bowl?"

I ponder the question. Does it really matter? 13.73 cubic inches of food and roughly 2 dollars and 78 cents from my pocket. And more importantly, if I spent the 2 dollars and 78 cents, made the chef spoon out the extra 13.73 cubic inches of food, the waiter carry the bowl taking up an extra 21.19 square inches of space -- if I did all that -- would I then feel obligated to eat into the 13.73 cubic inches of extra food for all our sakes, and what would be the benefit to my body? If it is purely enjoyment, then what about the hard-to-quantify diminishing returns each bite offers? Do I really think I can sustain the cognitive energy to appreciate the food far enough into the extra 13.73 cubic inches to warrant the price? And at what cost to my mental state, how much time would it take, what about the temperature of the food by the time I reach the superfluous bits? Assuming we can ignore the question of thermodynamics. Ha! As if I can simply pretend I don't already know which receptacle will lose the least amount of heat in the time it takes me to consume the contents. And then there's the question of hunger and where it becomes excess and how long it takes to feel the repercussions of overindulgence? But let's not forgot those 2 dollars and 78 cents - from a fraction of an hour of work, but what if it was one of those unbearable hours of work? Certainly not worth an extra 13.73 cubic inches of food. And perhaps I would prefer to spend 2.78$ on a 16oz latte or a 12oz with extra flavor? Would the pleasure to time ratio be greater if I made such a choice? Would my hunger, my cravings be more satisfied? - and, of course, one can't be more satisfied. One either is or is not satisfied. So, I ask again, does it really matter?

[seasons-of-ceres]

They

My perceptions of you might be skewed because of the screen but I cling to your posts because that's all I'll ever seen. Separated by a continent I've only seen in pieces, I'm afraid of flying and touching down on foreign soil will require much more nerve than I'm capable of now. I'm a novice in social conduct, I'd rather stay inside, and I'm a novice of myself because I can't distinguish between attraction and full-fledged love. Whatever the case, I'm still feeling something and I know I won't expand on this further because I'm still scared of rejection.

[seasons-of-ceres]

You Him Her You

There's a pane of glass between us because I never taught my feet how to dance, despite your willingness to teach me. There's always a barrier of air between our lips because I'm afraid of what that contact entails (that and my breath stinks). We've crossed into gentle touches and butterfly kisses but I'm still too afraid of that thing below your waist and all the expectations of what girls should do to love their boyfriends best.

There was always this stream of attraction passing from me to you, a one-way street that after construction with a new contractor, you'd admit to someone else you felt something/ Was I supposed to drop him for you? Was I supposed to feel sorry? I've been writing half-assed poetry to convey the anger and guilt you saddled me with for the past five years; you used to be someone I'd defend to the death but if I saw you today, I might kill you instead.

There was a time when we were friends, flue and clarinet buddies to the end, but I played all the wrong notes. I've finally come to grips with my inability to write proper music so our duets will be solos performed by me alone. I'll still think of you when the lights are low and remember all the times spent on the band room floor where we lay, where we lied, and where you continued to hide. 

And then there's you. I don't how to describe the need I have of you but I think it's like sunflowers who turn towards the face of the sun. But the daylight is sparse here because of a widening distance but I'd pick up my roots and follow you again and again, only if you'll me though; I don't know what this is but it feel familiar and I don't want to fuck it up like I did with her.

[cutlerish]

They say that passion is a fire. Only, I assume that with no muse to fan the flames whose world they should illume, passion undirected diminishes to a smolder that threatens to burn one hollow.

[lekaoru]

                     i don't like you....

                 ....i don't need you

... i don't want you

                  ..... yet i don't hate you

       because i love you

[fireintheirbellies-blog]

aaw funk i'm that unlucky chap who is always in line and the second i move i get nailed.

i always act nicely but the seldom occasion i'm naughty the world goes into a rage

i get good grades, i play a sport then i skip school for a day and get jailed. 

now there's a stamp with "bad kid" covering my permanent record page. 

[trixclibrarian]

lusty paradox

I have never met a man, face-to-face in-person whose looks alone turn me on. The only time men are a sexual temptation for me is when I interact with them. I never feel desire to hook-up with an unknown man – just, never.

Women, on the other hand, are a huge…

temptation. And my damnation. They turn me into a sick parody of a man, ostentatiously ogling my own lust, sprung from disjointed visions of objectified diminutions of real women.

But not really. Because I’d do ll cool j any day and I’ve fallen for more than one woman who doesn’t meet anybody’s normative standard of beauty.