"WELCOME to hell." Two wicked souls. One dangerous game.

Once upon a time, we shared our wicked blisses. But in the end, they were nothing but cocaine kisses. Highest ranking: #42 in poetry

Xavier doesn't speak; he writes.

dear oliver: there's something i have to tell you. lilly. [ 11 | 30 | 14 - #146 Teen Fiction ] [ © jude rigor two-thousand-&-fourteen ]

A collection of tragedies of sorts, of demons or angels (whatever you'd fancy to call them) that lurk and/or gleam in my mind. Written when the moon's dreary and the sun's near awakening. Obnoxiously metaphoric, subtly inspirational. © Jake Sullivan, 2014

Quinn scribbles tainted emotions across thin layers of white paper. But to who? To someone who blinks once, sees her, and blinks again-just to make her disappear. To someone who sees her as a symbol of the ocean. To someone who thinks the ocean is disgusting and hideous, filled with trash and pathetic wandering fishes. To someone who believes that Quinn needs to be a size zero to be labeled as 'beautiful.' If she isn't, why in the world will anyone care to love her? She's disgusting. Worthless. An enormous sailboat that makes the world sink. But how long will it take until she sinks herself?

barely poetic brain matter.

They said it was because of a lack of serotonin. (lower-case intentional)

what a strange feeling