Confidential Favoritism

Confidential Favoritism

I wish I didn’t have a heart, that this loud organ would stop swelling up with an overwhelming care and deep interest for her world and the people who surround it; Craving hollow blissful silence.

How do you do it, walk around so casually nonchalant, dust puffing out from your skin as mine secretes with oozing-nervous-eager sweat, my heart smashing up against my meaty ribcage as you ignore me; Non-mutual gaze.

Locking myself in tightly to these black fuzzy cuffs, grinning as they strangle the veins of my pride, impatiently awaiting the attention of a big loser, savoring each fiery shot you sharply spit back, loving the way it spills from your darkly distant digits; New twisted leash.

It’s cold and quiet, this lobby you leave me to sit in for hours, twiddling thumbs as I look for my favorite pair of eyes, jealously tired when I read they’ve wandered off to other harlots tied around your pretty pink leashes, I fiddle with the collar questioning it all, and yet the moment you walk in you set pants passionately ablaze, happily wagging my tail as you give me my 30 minutes of fun; Your secret wish, maybe even mine.

Of all the whores in my collection on the internet, you set my skin burning in the brightest of rosey leaky flames, my cheeks flushing the shiest of pinks as I bite down onto my dry lips, chewing on the peels of red bloody flesh, fighting back a big dorky smile, because you’re secretly my favorite hoe, the best tool in my fluorescent shed; A cheesy disgusting truth from the long dirty sleeve of my artery clogged heart.

So different from every single one, the way you speak to me only further intriguing my annoying interest in you, for you are not a sweet little gummy bear, fully willing to gift me picnic baskets upon picnic baskets of sugary compliments, no, you are a deliciously-salivating-sour gummy worm, wiggling through with banter filled soil as you wriggle your way up my thoughts; Picking rude Sour Patch Kids over kind Skittles.

As my tongue waters and pinches, my heart shaped boat sinks down knowing that you do not feel these extremely insane overbearing rotten feelings, for I am delusional as I suck and lick away all the addictive candies you tease me with, stubbornly returning for more neglectful tricks and treats from your beautiful brown orbs; Stupidly entranced by the grumpiest of hoes.

Was this fun and creative enough for you, captivatingly entertaining, border line insane, my liege?

- Autumn(Me)

Mysterious Congenial Hand

Bladed butterfly wings neatly tucked into the palm of an unknown adherent of art and almost whatever the ungraceful jester decides to embarrass herself with publicly; Likes from a stranger.

A mutual sharing of companions, and yet she hasn't a clue of the identity of this "follower," whose thumb is tapping away in support of her artistic nonsense.

"Who, are, you," a great question once asked by a wise-perfectly-sized-blue caterpillar who smoked quite often, suffocating-colorful-cloudy puffs of inquisitions float about my head, as I sit and ponder in my own Wonderland; Alice grows curiouser and curiouser.

Her eyes light up at the sight of a tiny-electronic-red heart on a piece that few spare a glance for, words and pictures squeezed fresh from the sweaty tube of her vulnerable heart, she dances in excitement while Pride inflates her massive balloon of ego; Overjoyed to have her creations seen.

Although she knows not who you are, nor if you truly do like all that your hidden peepers of an anonymous shade view through your screen, she appreciates the possibility that you do in fact genuinely enjoy her mad inventions of art, cooked up hot and ready upon the slab of her wild imagination; Thank you, loyal customer.

- 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

Progress

As I scroll through my gallery, it finally shifts into focus just how far I've come with the love for my physical features; Admiration for one's own exterior.

When I was younger I hated the way I appeared in the mirror, my eyes and nose scrunched up at the hideous creature that frowned back at me, she made me want to vomit all over the sink, whenever we lock eyes now, I want her by my side, for she is stunning, I am mesmerized by myself; Growth.

Everything about me was a flaw, a mistake I did my best to cover up and hide, it felt safe and comfortable to be wrapped up in layers; Years of oversized-sweat-soaked hoodies.

I used to burn up underneath the thick fabric, afraid everyone would see the hairy-manly-wolf arms protecting my skin, anytime I rolled up my sleeves to cool off my unshaven limbs, someone would stare or state the obvious to me; Fear over natural human features.

With jealous rage, I watched as every other person paraded about in beautiful clothes, materials that wonderfully showed off the eye catching features I neither had or felt I carried, a watery fire bursting when hearing them get called pretty or asked out; Wanting to wear their irresistible shoes over my own, to feel attractive by the public.

Tears of aggravation pouring down, as everyone I used to want made me feel ugly for looking the way I do, I felt foolish in my large cloak of safety for even thinking they would want this, an oily beast who offered nothing for them to gawk at; A young fool liking the wrong people.

As I sit and analyze my journey out of the security cocoon that I spun myself into, I am truly proud of the butterfly that emerged from what she thought was her home, she is so lucky those pest she used to desire did not see her true worth tucked away behind what they viewed as merily muck.

Although she slouches, she stands as tall as her little legs allow, finally smiling in pictures, enjoying the photoshoots she spends hours taking, giggling and blushing over herself for once, gawking over the outfits she never would have worn trapped in her overheated blankets of protection; Crushing on me.

I have tossed out the piles of meekness that clogged up my self image, making room for vanity to decorate the space, she carries an ego with appreciation for every part of me, even though my huge-ass-four-finger-length forehead has grown a bit, it feels rather nice to have pride to be me, which is quite new; Cheering for team us, Me-Myself-& the one and only...I.

Thank you to the ones who saw the enchanting jester nervously hiding behind the curtains, afraid to go out on stage and be poorly judged by the audience surrounding her; Gifting her with inspiration.

She is more than grateful that her favorite supporters encouraged her to step out of her opaque shell, freeing herself of the gown of shame that she used to cling on for shelter, exposing a gorgeous goddess who looks enchanting yet quite silly, for she proudly gazes upon the crowd dawning her favorite facial expression; A dumbass whose face goofily contorts, her thin eyebrows smashing together, as she either purses her lips out or sucks them in pridefully with confidence over her unique exterior.

"I love you, you're total babe inside and out, always coming up with the oddest jokes that make me crack a smile even if it does not land with your crowd a hundred percent of the time, you're my favorite comedian and artist." - Me to Me.

- 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

A Game Of Eye Contact

Nervously, her eyes avert from looking your way, only gifted a sliver of a glimpse as you turn away from her; Liking what I don't see.

She is terrified of starting the game, locking eyes with a beautiful stranger, what happens when you win?

Who is the prize?

A rush of red hot panic blares through her eagerly frantic system as she tries to calculate every possible repercussion; Overthinking, her best attribute.

Her gears creak and screech, overrun and burnt, as her imagination swims in a sweaty pool of fictional scenarios; Chaotically disorganized, the awkward-shy-ambiverted Daydreamer drifts.

Confused by the back and forth notes passed between her plump form and jittery spirit, she displays the oddest cues and signs, the air between the two players becoming unreadable; Mixed Messages.

Are they even playing?

Is she in or out?

(Internal Questions and Fears).

Her mind is unable to apply it's make-up, where is it to even begin, what will it wear?

As tempted as she may be by the gentle Pink Boy of Flowers, Hesitancy is quick to stop the weird Turquoise Beast from running along to play in the field of soft spoken lilies; Considering the odds from every single angle, a few more times.

The hopeless romantic fidgets above the buttons, timid-antsy-inexperienced fingers dance along the colorful knobs, her quarter moist and warm as it rests in her anxious little palms, brown marbles rake over the flashing arcade machine screen; "Push start to begin."

- Autumn(Me)