Don't wanna.
Gotta.
Really can't be bothered.
Gotta.
Monosyllabic much?
Got to, then. Happy?
That is profoundly unhelpful.
Don't care, do it.
You never care.
Do. It.
What.
Up!
What to up then?
Huh? Get up!
FINeee......
My internal monologue finally asserts that I must, and so I shall.
Getting up. My greatest challenge for the day.
I begin to roll onto my side, rocking back and forth to build up momentum, the bed creaking in anger with every rock. I finally settle onto my side. I breathe deep and tense every muscle I can think of.
Here comes the tricky part.
With every ounce of strength in my body I push myself up into a s
Cracked Lips -part 2- by spacemarinesrule, literature
Literature
Cracked Lips -part 2-
Cracked lips.
Mouth of cotton.
Drool down my left cheek.
Hair the victim of a seagull attack.
Sheets tangled about the foot of the bed.
Headache of biblical proportions.
I quit drinking. Now. Never again.
Wait. Where are my clothes?
And what the hell is.... Shit.
That's a girl.
That's a girl, who is also naked.
A HOT Girl.
Too hot. Especially for me.
Fine, firm, ass. Gentle curves. Flowing, wavy, brown hair.... Am I having a breakdown?
Jeez..... She probably has a face like a smacked arse.
Knowing my luck at least.
Dammit! Why does this feel like a scene from a bad sitcom!
I wait until she gets up and it turns out 'she'
She sits alone.
I stand with friends.
She sticks out.
I blend in.
God she's gorgeous.
Wavy brown hair of a goddess.
Ample breasts clad in a white shirt and accentuated by an elegant deep blue corset.
Large stomach elegantly formed beneath the corset.
Very large and very well formed buttocks crushed into a pair of jeans.
Clearly the largest specimen in the room.
Clearly not of the standard breed.
Like I said, she sticks out.
I just want to talk to her, nothing more.
Walk across the dance floor, have a drink with her at the bar.
The simple things.
But I won't.
I can, but I Won't.
In a place where women, and only women, gather
The first summer she bought a little red dress. It was loose, billowy, and oh so comfortable. It was about 2 sizes too big, and loose on the bust, but dammit, she loved it anyway. It was a short dress, yet on her it was just short of slut length.
She wore it from dawn to dusk often for days on end. She danced in it, copulated in it, drank in it, ate in it, and slept in it. She loved it. It was simple spaghetti strapped dress made of elastine and cotton and it was the single greatest single thing she had ever owned. Despite being too loose.
The Second summer it wasn't as loose anymore. The Bust line no longer as loose, the dress less billow
Rolling over to hug Henri, Carol was less than impressed to find that there was no-one to hug. "Henri Must have had work today", she thought. She then also began to wonder why Henri hadn't told her this. "She always seems to skulk away in the early morning hours; she never, ever, sticks around so we can go out for breakfast". These thoughts we're quickly replaced by thoughts of consumption. Namely, breakfast.
Rolling over to get out of bed, carol was momentarily shocked to realise that she couldn't actually get up. This quickly passed as her sleep addled brain finally remembered why this was. With a small effort she pushed herself out of bed
Don't wanna.
Gotta.
Really can't be bothered.
Gotta.
Monosyllabic much?
Got to, then. Happy?
That is profoundly unhelpful.
Don't care, do it.
You never care.
Do. It.
What.
Up!
What to up then?
Huh? Get up!
FINeee......
My internal monologue finally asserts that I must, and so I shall.
Getting up. My greatest challenge for the day.
I begin to roll onto my side, rocking back and forth to build up momentum, the bed creaking in anger with every rock. I finally settle onto my side. I breathe deep and tense every muscle I can think of.
Here comes the tricky part.
With every ounce of strength in my body I push myself up into a s
Cracked Lips -part 2- by spacemarinesrule, literature
Literature
Cracked Lips -part 2-
Cracked lips.
Mouth of cotton.
Drool down my left cheek.
Hair the victim of a seagull attack.
Sheets tangled about the foot of the bed.
Headache of biblical proportions.
I quit drinking. Now. Never again.
Wait. Where are my clothes?
And what the hell is.... Shit.
That's a girl.
That's a girl, who is also naked.
A HOT Girl.
Too hot. Especially for me.
Fine, firm, ass. Gentle curves. Flowing, wavy, brown hair.... Am I having a breakdown?
Jeez..... She probably has a face like a smacked arse.
Knowing my luck at least.
Dammit! Why does this feel like a scene from a bad sitcom!
I wait until she gets up and it turns out 'she'
She sits alone.
I stand with friends.
She sticks out.
I blend in.
God she's gorgeous.
Wavy brown hair of a goddess.
Ample breasts clad in a white shirt and accentuated by an elegant deep blue corset.
Large stomach elegantly formed beneath the corset.
Very large and very well formed buttocks crushed into a pair of jeans.
Clearly the largest specimen in the room.
Clearly not of the standard breed.
Like I said, she sticks out.
I just want to talk to her, nothing more.
Walk across the dance floor, have a drink with her at the bar.
The simple things.
But I won't.
I can, but I Won't.
In a place where women, and only women, gather
The first summer she bought a little red dress. It was loose, billowy, and oh so comfortable. It was about 2 sizes too big, and loose on the bust, but dammit, she loved it anyway. It was a short dress, yet on her it was just short of slut length.
She wore it from dawn to dusk often for days on end. She danced in it, copulated in it, drank in it, ate in it, and slept in it. She loved it. It was simple spaghetti strapped dress made of elastine and cotton and it was the single greatest single thing she had ever owned. Despite being too loose.
The Second summer it wasn't as loose anymore. The Bust line no longer as loose, the dress less billow
Current Residence: Melbourne, Australia Favourite genre of music: Alt/experimental/offtheirtits rock Favourite photographer: Nimoy. Favourite style of art: Comics Operating System: 7. MP3 player of choice: How is an Iphone an mp3 player? Skin of choice: the kind of dead skin that covers our living skin. Favourite cartoon character: The allmighty Deadpool! runner up Cable. Personal Quote: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Saying of 1,000,000 failed artists.