Drip, drop, and drool - Knick Son - Wattpad

Story cover for Drip, drop, and drool by Knick_18

Drip, drop, and drool

LECTURES 26
Votes 4
Chapitres 4
Durée <5 mins

LECTURES 26
Votes 4
Chapitres 4
Durée <5 mins

afterlife blasted immortals love nature supplication vanity

When my fantasy, emotion, and impulse engulf me, poems like the ones I have here in this poetry collection, "Drip, Drop, and Drool", just flow into pieces of paper I could grab in that very moment. Random thoughts flow spontaneously that I tend oblivious of the theme being crafted thereafter. I mean no harm nor insult to anyone or anything implied or explicitly stated in this work of literature. It's purely fictional and mere coincidence, if any.Tous Droits Réservés

afterlife blasted immortals love nature supplication vanity

Table des matières

4 chapitres

Inscrivez-vous pour ajouter Drip, drop, and drool à votre bibliothèque et recevoir les mises à jour

ou

Directives de Contenu

Vous aimerez aussi

Bedroom Whispers, écrit par LusciousFluid

The bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were content with the strokes and curves of the fluid dispenser. They seemed to have joined the fast-lane train, and thus demand new meals. While I lay down and hit the keys with a mystic rhythmic sway, I hear the sounds as they hit my ears. No. They're not forceful. Not now, at least. Like music from the slow strumming of a guitar, these sounds bring messages. And memories. And musings. And a medley, sometimes. And so it is, that I'm made to scribe. For when gods speak, their words are immortal. Oh. Wait. They're just thoughts. I thought as much.

Fuck You for Your Misunderstanding, écrit par mevsoutside

Before I Sought the Light I Was: Entangled in the hurricane of carnal desires whilst fighting against the flow-less and time-consuming isolation that tempted me to stay in my place. I was staring at my own reflection for a number of days, hoping that when I blinked, I would see something change. When nothing did I began dancing into my psyche and peeping through keyhole at the center of my mind and through it I saw an endless battle between the perpetual darkness that loneliness entails and the wet roses of lust. I saw a war break out between the icy lands of my heart and the volcanic eruption of my thoughts. The shadows in the corner sending whispers via pigeons that would get caught in jet engines before they could be delivered to an ear eager to listen. As I stared through that peephole, hardly noticing the door, I wondered--and I wandered, until I was unable to distinguish either.

Entanglement, écrit par KahnaKahn

The water is my home...It is the only place I feel free...I can go anywhere, be anything as long as I kept to myself...It has been years on my own and every once in a while I return to a place I had found happiness. He made me happy until we were kept apart. Now I am free or am I? Just like anyone else I have dreams, dreams to walk, to sing, to dance but those dreams were shattered in an instant or is it. Is it possible to achieve those... I wonder... but I wont stop, I won't stop until those dreams become a reality. It's time to go back home, my real home.

The Open Canvas [Poetry], écrit par Aamira_love

The canvas is now open It is saturated with the remnants of my emotions and thoughts The canvas is englufed with the flames that burns throughout my mind Leaving the ashes behind The ashes that have now been used to paint the words left unsaid Some of these poems are personal while others were written based on deep issues that affects society as well as books/ music that gave me inspiration to write. Don't fear, its not only depressing poems in here © 2018 All Rights Reserved #death #depression #faith #fulfillment #laugh #love #nature #questions #reality #sadness #thoughts

Desolate , écrit par nyxschreibt

"Aut viam inveniam aut faciam." The words spilled out of his mouth like a whispered prayer, Ink etched into his flesh, Stingy, Almost as the raging flames within him, Scorching his insides, He would either find a way or forge one. The word is haunted. Not by ghosts. By a maybe. By the soft echo of a woman who once lit his path out of darkness. A woman who no longer remembers his name... But who still lives inside every choice he makes. He was not made to follow the rules. He was made to make them. Where a match may light a room, A flame like him sets a whole world ablaze. In this story, Truth wears a mask, and order is just chaos in disguise. His world, at last, reveals its true face, when he sets it on fire.

When You Read it, You'll know me, écrit par vivianb118

Just words that flow A river in my head It twists and turns And never stays the same The current is strong You can never go back Pen it down And remember The joy of the ride Through the rough bumpy tide That are the words In my mind.

My Tongue Is A Pen Of A Ready Writer, écrit par Poetic_Emotions

Here are a collection of poetry I have written within my teenage years, early adult life . I hope you all enjoy.

Divided Unity, écrit par theviolingal12

Poems about various topics in my life. A lot of the early ones...may be about the same thing. Indefinite runtime.

Thoughts Of Me, Sorry., écrit par psalmwolfe

Just everyday, unconventional, uplifting, relatable, sad writings. Take a journey through my head. **warning-may make you unconsciously slip into a corner alone, with sad music drowning you through your headphones**

Written Fate., écrit par CloverCharmm

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈ Two weeks and a day went by without seeing Alex. I was still unsure of how to act around him and I could say I really missed him. My feelings refused to be locked inside and what he said echoed in my mind. How could I forget what his melodic voice said? "...you are my mate, you're bound to care," ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈ I read somewhere that life is what happens when your busy making other plans. Well that is just the case. Imagine having your life all planned out for you. Planned before you were conceived and you have to find out from a book, a book that doesn't only unleash your fate but puts your life at stake. Most impressive ranking ever achieved: #5 in planned #4 in love and war

Vous aimerez aussi

Slide 1 of 10

Bedroom Whispers cover

Fuck You for Your Misunderstanding cover

Entanglement cover

The Open Canvas [Poetry] cover

When You Read it, You'll know me cover

My Tongue Is A Pen Of A Ready Writer cover

Divided Unity cover

Thoughts Of Me, Sorry. cover

Written Fate. cover

Bedroom Whispers

The bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were content with the strokes and curves of the fluid dispenser. They seemed to have joined the fast-lane train, and thus demand new meals. While I lay down and hit the keys with a mystic rhythmic sway, I hear the sounds as they hit my ears. No. They're not forceful. Not now, at least. Like music from the slow strumming of a guitar, these sounds bring messages. And memories. And musings. And a medley, sometimes. And so it is, that I'm made to scribe. For when gods speak, their words are immortal. Oh. Wait. They're just thoughts. I thought as much.