Twinkle. Shine. Sparkle. Whatever.

Be loved. Be happy. Blogs.

I blog random things, mostly insane, PERVERSE, out of love, in love, and strange. I read books, as to one would breathe air and feel alive.

I love to talk. I love words. Please talk to me.

Every 9th of the month is my Happy Bonbastic Day! Greet me on that day. Pwesh? :3

“Bring me the night, send out the stars ‘cause when I’m dreaming, we don’t seem so far. Brighten the skies and light up the moon, so that somehow you’ll be here with me soon. Bring me the night that brings me to you.”


- Ree (via elixirblogs)

Actually this is a lyrics from a song.

(Source: freehann)

“As the shadow starts to lurk, I tried stepping out. Branches were dancing to the tunes of cold wind. I looked around and wander off the streets, gazing at the pale moonlight. I know you’re on the other side, I know we’re under the same sky.”

—   Honey Lette (via freehann)

I hate myself when I see good poems, fucking good not just goody good, like why can’t I write something as intelligent as that? I want to cry to that 😞

“I stood alone – reality!
Oh! It tingled, flowed my veins.
No more sick heart and hungry brain.
I wiped the teardrops on my cheek,
while sung the bird with yellow beak.
Apocryphal yet it was true –
I learned living without you.”

—   Bygone

“I could always remember just how your touch burned in my skin. You know, the feeling you get so irritated but instead you’re loving it.
I was loving it.
The smell.
Yes, you reeked of cruelty and my-impending broken heart.
I can’t forget the pain as it dumped on and in my nose.
The bridge between your sexy polluted lips and nostrils just gave the first shiver on my sight.
I run my pinkie along it.
You’re an ogre underneath my sheets.
I recoiled just when how you pushed your way through me.
It was like an elevator inside my body;
or I was in an elevator elevated over extensive surface;
almost wasted;
almost ecstatic;
almost sullen;
almost glad.
The summit of a mountain;
the trough of a wave;
the peak of a pitch and the bottom of the sea
— momentarily overwhelming at the start
and engrossingly disgusting in the end.
My water against yours.
There was more than one fluid that night.
More than but wasn’t enough for you.
You just said good night.
No touch, no utter of romance.
I sat there above the sheets where a thick faced monster laid uncomfortably sated in his corrupted manhood ways;
I was sick for the first time.
For the first night when they said I’d be reborn and newly baptised.
Lies, oh Dorothy, lies.”

—   The First Night


September 10th 2014 is World Suicide Prevention Day. 

To everyone that is going through their own personal hell right now — whatever that may be — keep going, it gets better. 

Find help here.

It’s okay to ask for help. Please click on the link in the quoted text to find phone numbers for your area or topic of assistance. 


Richard I is Born
8 September 1157
Today is the birthday of King Richard I, born on this day in British history, 8 September 1157. He was also known as Richard Cœur de Lion because of his reputation as a great military leader and warrior. Richard sat on the throne for the last ten years of his life until his death at age 41 in 1199.


Richard I is Born

8 September 1157

Today is the birthday of King Richard I, born on this day in British history, 8 September 1157. He was also known as Richard Cœur de Lion because of his reputation as a great military leader and warrior. Richard sat on the throne for the last ten years of his life until his death at age 41 in 1199.

“Today was just the same.
I miss you that’s all and I wandered to the living room from my room and watched the telephone placed silently in the corner.
I wanted to hear your voice.
That sexy voice, that alluring voice of yours that just makes my heart do cartwheels.
No I wasn’t scared of you.
You just have the effect I don’t normally feel with Ren or Mark or Bench or whosoever with a name.
There was rain outside and all I could remember was our discussion about it.
You loved rain a lot, everybody loves rain, who wouldn’t, you said.
The drops of rain on the window pane (another wet to wipe),
the sound it creates that makes you want to go to bed early and just cuddle all day (it is called noise and staying in bed is unnecessary when you have life).
Everybody loves rain, who wouldn’t, you said.
I argued with your opinion and ‘rain is life’ you said.
I shrugged to that.
There was a lizard lazily crawled near me.
On the wall.
On the wall near me.
On the wall near me with a brazen look.
On the wall near me with a brazen look that said I’m harmless.
But I don’t like lizards.
They scare the bezeejus out of me.
The crap out of me.
I started to shoo it and said something like it didn’t want to die in my hand right now I swore.
I shooed and shooed and shooed and you said stop acting childish.
The poor lizard didn’t do anything wrong (you just didn’t know! I have been through a lot with that creature who abused my innocence and triggered the murderer in me by its malevolent act of unwanted encounters) you said in such a manner that made me feel like merciless.
I looked at the dishes.
I made my way through the empty living area and started doing the dishes.
I should learn to wash dishes or do the laundry or clean the house you said (why? When I have someone to do this for me).
I just didn’t want to look at you when you preach me about chores and about being confident with myself.
That I am someone and I should be confident to always represent myself.
I miss you with whosoever with a name.
I miss you with the rain outside.
I miss you with the hated lizard near me.
I miss you with all the confidence and the untouched dishes.
The phone was still holding its breath waiting for me to caress its slender body.
I sat down approximately in an arms-reach distance.
I could smell the stench of a newly installed telephone on a comforted stand, eager to be held and touched.
A sin.
Lustful as to its low slow whispers of enticement.
I decided I couldn’t fight any longer.
I lifted.
With an ease.
The telephone, I held it up and dialed your goddamn cheap (I don’t mean mean) number.
There was a blank station in my brain that just couldn’t come up with your number.
I forgot (this is heartbreaking).
I re-dialed. A couple or three.
I miss you with your death.”

—   The Line Is Dead

“There is an in-between - a resting ground - purgatory.
Cleansing sin, and rising like smoke against mirror.
I found you there.
You, a boy with no fixed designation, just smoke and mirror.
I found you chained to sin, head tilted toward the gates of heaven,
Feet glued to lust, hands folded in prayer.
Forgive me for I learned his lines better than yours Father;
Crooked lines on skin.
White lines on glass.
Lines against table tops and white sheets and cold walls.
Lines that made me believe in you, Father.
Lines that made me believe that you and he are the same Father.
I saw you crumble, pick up the mess created
Cleanse your sin.
I saw you taint yourself, head clouded
Destroyed purity.

Forgive him Father, he ate from the hand of Eve.
Forgive him Father, he has recited verses on my skin.
Forgive him Father.

I drink lust like wine - this is the blood.
Forgive me Father.

I bite his lip like bread - this is the body.
Forgive me Father.

Forgive me Father
For I have sinned.”


Forgive Me Father For I Have Found Faith, writing by m.k.

(partially inspired by Azra T.’s beautiful poem 'Take Me To Church')

(via 5000letters)

Love, Rosie