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Matthew Shepard is Dead Matthew Shepard is DeadMatthew Shepard is Dead by ~Defy-Not-The-Heart
Kaleb Rosenthal was a saint.
He liked to show friends the cigarette burns beneath the social security number on his birth certificate. Together, like chums, they'd have a laugh over their parents' premature graves. It was too easy. Their parents were hippies and yuppies and war hawks, unwed mothers and sleazy step-dads. They invited scorn like ants to a picnic.
"We'll turn out better," says one. She won't live long; she'll die of lung cancer at age thirty-five. She closes her eyes and takes a long drag of her cigarette as though she's taking communion.
On Fridays, Kaleb visits his friends at 'Kaleidoscope'. There,
Dysphoria is... Dysphoria is getting dressed in the morningDysphoria is... by ~Defy-Not-The-Heart
wearing five layers of shirts
to hide your chest
walking towards the mirror
the judge
jury
prosecutor
Dysphoria is the piece of your heart that cowers in fear
that spreads paranoia
causing confusion
complication
a cacophony in your soul.
Dysphoria is why it takes an hour to get out of bed some mornings,
why you hate mirrors.
It's losing your family, your home.
Security,
Privilege,
Approval,
Unconditional love,
All things that are no longer meant for you.
It's wrapping your chest so tight that your bones warp and crack,
And yet still refusing to take the bindings off.
It
Woe To avoid lying, you refuse to even think about it. You ignore it the best you can: imagery of his naked skin, of his elegant fingers – things he could do with them, when he is not reaching for guns.Woe by ~Defy-Not-The-Heart
It's getting late, and the world is not just soft around the edges anymore – it's spinning in this semi-darkness and he is sitting there and you think go home.
You are not sure what do you mean by home, but it doesn't matter; stray dogs like him, like you, don't really have a place to go.
Instead of speaking, you grasp the bottle, and wonder what is going on. It's getting late, and he's still sitting, like an ivory statue, all cold an
The City is at War It's two a.m. and Malik is drunk; a little on leftover adrenaline—still running through his veins after his last brush with death—but mostly on alcohol. Dante does nothing to stop it. After all, Malik is a big boy. He can take care of himself.The City is at War by ~Defy-Not-The-Heart
"Hooooly shit, its long way down. Hey, check it out, old man! Betcha I'd splatter pretty far."
Well, maybe not.
They're on a balcony, and Malik is naked from the waist up, shirt deemed unsalvageable and discarded to the side. He's also bandaged, on his arm and on his side where a bullet caught him, just below his ribs. The wound is small, but magnified in Malik's movements, in the hesitance
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The Penny Trail Dear Stranger,The Penny Trail by =SilverInkblot
I do these things anonymously because I'm shy. But also because it's more fun that way. It keeps an element of mystery and adds a little touch of magic to a world that grew up and forgot about those sorts of things.
I used to wonder why pennies never turned green – they're made of copper right? Like the Statue of Liberty.
It's because the corrosion is constantly being rubbed off: they change hands so quickly or jangle in pockets and the patina comes right off. Flipped for luck, rubbed for luck, slide them into the bride's shoes for luck, turn them over for luck.
It's the little things that people remember in the end. N
Ace Leviathan 002 – Your files say that you're a girl.Ace Leviathan by ~allieweasley
269 – Hey babe, I'm wondering what it's like to suck you off.
434 – What's this bandage under your shirt? Hey, are you hurt?
343 – How the hell did you get that strong?
222 – Dude, you have pretty small feet.
009 – How do you know so much about hormones?
269 – Mmm you need another haircut, your hair just grows so fast.
001 – Just because I let you do this doesn't mean it's my fault; you did this to yourself.
444 – If you really don't want to be my sister, I'll call you oppa*.
005 – We've decided that you can't change in the boy's locker room an
| Love. ...Yeah, its kind of like that. +++ Kai: This is the joint account of two deviant artists with a dream. A dream that one day their writings would be read, faved, and commented on by complete strangers. Only you can help make this dream into a reality <3 Rei: We be writerz!  |
Yearning 
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