New Bird, Same Song

New Bird, Same Song

Good morning, oblivious bright bird, blissfully blind to my feelings, to my silence.

You flew right into my hands, singing an annoyingly cute tune, convincing me that I was beautiful, tweeting on and on how you want to fly around, wing to wing with me; A tired old tune of lies and disinterest manipulating a gullible heart.

A fool who never learns, always she repeats this lesson, the way she smiles as her young snotty heart bleeds, so disgustingly enjoyable; A masochist down on her creaky knees kissing fists of make-believe roses.

These thorns disguised as honey soaked green tea leaves, soaking beneath rotten pores, so sweetly bitter this game, this decaying plant upon the garden of possibilities; Endless crushes.

She mourns the death of this little sprout, for this one had the best smile, but beneath its young roots were nothing but weeds, poisoning her fertile soil of love, making her gag in guilt and shame; Uprooting a ghostly invasive green.

Goodbye, silly boy.

- Autumn(Me)

I want to start posting my art doodles and nonsense on here, sooooooo

I Present My Doodle, Chrysoprase

💕😩💕😩💕😩💕

As Well As My Other Doodle, Burning Pile

Welcoming In The "Best" Company

She craves this, shamefully begs for it, clattering down onto her creaky knees, a feeling of being forgotten, miserable, and empty; Drinking it down like water, gasping in distaste for the woman in the mirror.

What the fuck is wrong with her?

Chaotically distraught, disoriented by this disturbing hunger; She enjoys this?

Living in the shadows, misplaced, yet fond fingers brushing upon her bitter skin; Loving bright hands in every direction but never spotlighting on her.

Slithering in the grainy darkness, tear burnt eyes watch in anticipation, eager to see what will happen, where this chapter shall drop her and the other characters; Fucked up indulgence.

She's twisted, a fucking hypocrite, babbling through snotty snobs and sniffles, how she "hates this feeling," yet she's got a craving for all this drama; Sickly appetite of a crybaby coward, licking at her dry lips.

Why would she relish any of this, desiring for it all to go wrong?

She's afraid of Happiness, of falling in love with her, only for her to be ripped away from moist-clammy-blistered digits; A loss she's grown accustomed to.

It's easier, she likes the warm-cold embrace of Despair, as he lights up a cigarette, taking what he wants, discarding her naked shell onto the street, leaving her to crumble down; Freezing alone with no clothes to cover her shame.

Slowly regluing herself, rising onto scrapped up bones, beginning to trek up the dusty road to where she should be (with her true lover, Happiness), only for him to come back, caressing her brain, internally tearing her up (again and again).

How orgasmic, the way her tears keep coming every single time; One night stand after one night stand, her only relationship and release.

The gross whore is sorry; Not an apology, simply an excuse of being.

- Autumn(Me)

No, God No

Perfectly written words to represent how she feels gone, erased, typed out raw thoughts Thanos snapped away in a blink, as if they were never real.

A new kind of pain washes over her, frustrated thumbs poking down something different because of one little slip of a button; Forever dead and gone are the thoughts she originally desired to share.

Once wearing the mask of a depressed jester, now adorning the face of a pissed off poet, upset over the unsaved thoughts plucked from a heartfelt brain of misery, planting seeds of unsavory anger into the gardens of the Internet instead; Tears of aggravation.

She's a goddamn fool for wanting to let her emotions naturally guide the flow of her work, a fucking moron whose illustrations and reflections have been refreshed off her screen, vanishing into the void of forgotten blurs.

"I can't believe you've done this."

Truly, she can not.

Sighing in disbelief over a fear, something she thought was silly to be afraid of happening, stupidly lucky once, her ass was saved one time and she mistakingly took it for granted instead of as a warning of what would come to never be if she was not careful; A lesson through accidents.

Forever no more, her unfinished poem of truthful thoughts that were stripped away of the meat that gave it life, shall now lay rest in the graveyard of Drafts, never to be touched again; Endlessly mourned bones of what could have been.

Another tack to add onto her list of regrets, never forgetting to kick herself down over this large L she never meant to bite into; Another thought to keep her awake at night.

She loved you which is why she is so upset over your disappearence, you were beautiful and meant the world to her, in her teary eyes you had a bright future ahead of you; Suddenly, no one.

I will never be able to re-create nor replicate the masterpiece that was you, my love.

- Autumn(Me)

Lying Within Her Nudity, There Is Truth

I don't think you want me, just my body, the parts of me that leak in horniness, apparently; Art of sin.

It's painted everywhere, her ache for warm saliva, bare skin sweating against yours, quivering in 50 ropes of lust; Her inner desires so obvious to the predatory eyes of the perceiver.

There is no more meaning behind her work, behind her eyes, alongside the curves of her awkward-plump-tiny form, just snake your way into her mouth, underneath all her clothes, it's what you really want.

Fingers circle and glide, traveling wherever they so please, moving her legs, bringing her closer so that you may feel the pleasures of heated close proximity; The touch starved boy has got to eat.

The amount of strength in your lingers, as the pressure of your intentions rests upon her weaker wrists, has never made her want to ignore the little gnawings and cravings for romantic human contact more than ever; Preferably starving and waiting for the right meal, Goldilocks.

I can not bring myself to want you, to lie to myself to not hurt the hearts of others, to hold your gaze, all so that you may slowly place your ashy fruit scented lips against my dry ones, to allow my fingers to explore the damp pores of your skin; Rushed and one sided.

I don't think I want you, just some space, the whole and broken parts of me that need to be alone and breath, apparently; Art of feminine beauty and personal grief.

-Autumn(Me)

07/17/2024

Sweat Locked Exhaustion

Run your fingerprints all along my sticky pores, feel the stench dive deep within your divots and grooves, let it clench and coil along your bones; Filthy.

Glistening in a saucy sweat, dripping down from her dry silky scalp all the way to the foul smelling toes, curling at the sight, isn’t she gorgeous?

Never have you been faced with such a familiar dreadful aroma, so intoxicating the way it stings as it clings, hooking in sharply as it begins rooting itself deeper within the murky funky mold of her mind; Fungus of empty thoughts.

Spores open to breathe, only to find no air in their home, baking to a crisp inside her dome, glued down tight, entirely one with the oldeny-fresh-gunky dust of jaded silence; Fully nestled in.

Glide down tenderly as you get stuck in the puddles of dressings and every other disgusting thing that has latched onto her tired skin, circling through every dry sticky patch as you try not to barf, take it all in, inhale deeply as you do your best to pull yourself together; Exhausted and teary eyed.

Get down on your knees my sweet little sheep, bare down on my rotten selfish core, lick it all up, all the dirt and grim, between each crack and crease, exfoliate me until I’m nothing but a hollow shell; Dirty.

-Autumn(Me)

4/27/2024