Draft Piles

*With bafflement, he looked up to the vixen-like woman—who had cradled him, a grown up man, and put his head on her laps and sang soft lullaby for him.

"Now, Elias," she paused her humming once, and smiled above him; mischievously playful and yet motherly, somehow. "Here is a question for you: if someone feels to you so familiar... Is it because you have you ever loved them—or because you have ever loathed them?"

Elias blinked at the familiar, stranger woman.*

#random flash of dream, "Honesty" #journal, entry 26.2

Waking up with slight headache, and hurting eyes, I could barely understand what happened last night. After all, there was something to whirlwind of deep, negative emotions that was akin to booze; when it was all over, you were only left with the wreckage of the aftermath, only knowing that some shits just happened... But you couldn't be sure, couldn't remember recount exactly what and how.

#random random thoughts

*See, darling, tonight I'll be

embracing you to sleep,
whispering sweet nothings,
kissing your tears, and
savouring your shadows
as I did also your light.

But tomorrow I'll be
with my friends at the bar
and they'll be asking,
where I've been gone to, and
I'll say, "I was
comforting my baby girl,
she needed me, so
I was there for her."

And they'll be saying,
"How sweet,"
And asking me,
"How pretty your babe got to be
for you to spend nights with her instead of us?"

And I'll tell them,
"I don't know."

Because, truly, darling,
I don't know anymore.

I don't know how pretty you are,
how cute you are; even if you were
to be posing on magz cover,
I would only look at you
and would only know–

I'm so in love with you.*

#random #verse #draft [ I Don't Know How Pretty You Are Anymore ]

Halloween Special, 2022! Finally!! #file
I realized that last year, I only share the game because the story is part of the journal, so I can't really put it out (it got touchy subject). This one will also have a game document (which describes the technicality of the game), and when I'm done I'll post it on my drawing channel and post the link here.

*It's different.

I just want a place for me to be a fool,
Freely,
Safely.

My journal–
Why isn't it enough anymore?

My sweet little journal;
Perhaps, because it was like
A little bathroom.
Like that bathroom I used to hide in,
Or the cramped little closet,
Where I used to hide
This little me.

The little me;
The younger,
Smaller,
More timid,
Me.

But it's different now.

I'm larger.
I'm older.
I'm fuller–
With rage.

What I had then were whispers,
And closets were enough.

What I have now are screams
And roars,
And what I need

Is the vast,
Empty,
And full

Void.*

Another whimsical #random: [ Scream it to the Void ]

But tell me: what is a decent human being anyway? What makes a human decent enough? When every and each of us has ever been foolish, has ever sinner... Tell me—why do I feel tired of trying to be a "decent human being"?

#random

*Decadent are
Our nights;

Lips meeting lips,
Lips meeting skin,
Lips meeting eye,
Lips meeting soul,
Lips eating soul.

Letting our lust
Grow so lush,
Letting our body
Grow so needy,
Letting ourselves
Lost in shallow depths.

Decadent are
Our nights;
Yet in that dark den,
I feel the safest then.*

Another whimsical #verses

*"I'm a little tired of reality,
Would rather just dream for eternity."

"A little?
Just a little?"

"Just a little," I said,
"Though I can't tell how long
I've been tired
Just a little."*

#random [ Just a Little]
whimsical sing-song voices in my head

Excerpt of ??? #journal, entry ???

*"It's just—people our age have been going places you know. Meanwhile, look where we are. Still where we've been since high school."

"Hey, I've been going places too. I've been to the dead abyss of my psyche and back."*#random have you been going places too, guys?