MamaBrian was in a good mood. It was the first time in years he'd visited Sweden again. The first time in awhile he actually had the time to plan a trip there besides. As a result, he'd get to see his mother face to face once more. They'd been keeping up in through letters and phone calls, but all that had been dropped on her end in the early 2000’s. He assumed she was busy with work and planned to visit her to sort things out. Couldn't hurt right?Mama by inkstaineddove
Brian strolled up to her house, whistling all the way to the doorway. He had noticed another car in the driveway, which was weird, but thought nothing of it. After all, after being out of touch for all these years, for all he knew, she could’ve been in a relationship or married. He knocked loud on the door, grinning from ear to ear when, to his surprise, his uncle opened it up. "Yo, Uncle Berwald! Long time no see!"
His uncle just nodded his head and grunted. "Is Morsan here?" The New Jersey man began to enter, but was only met with
old habitsshadow child,old habits by inkstaineddove
you are never forming
for i never give you
the chance to fully
solely compromised of
poisoned what-ifs and
standards too high for
even the most
experienced climbers will
be sent hurtling down.
(oh how the mighty fall!)
your kind never
stays for long.
whose fault could it be?
the selfish -
who picks blindly.
watch how she tires
of her selection
within the hour.
its the selfless -
who gives in with
little fight to being
'mouse' in this game.
don't you receive
the worst marks?
both are at fault
when they consent
to play in
such a deadly game.
(intoxicated and blind,
creating a world
of their own)
so dear shadow child,
blink once if you pray
this will end fast
twice if you wish
the crash didn't
s t i n g
entertained revengethy death! rebellious beastsentertained revenge by inkstaineddove
on pain of torture.
mistempered weapons cankered
with hate. lives forfeit the peace
fiery swords prepared breathe defiance,
envious worm whence sorrow grows.
much to do with hate
but more to do with love.
misshapen chaos that feel
no love in this.
weep at thy good heart's oppression,
add more grief to a madness
most discreet. dead
that live to tell it
now ruled by me,
die in debt
in penalty alike of
honorable reckoning, you lived
at odds o'er a stranger in the world;
hath not seen change
wither their pride.
pain by backward turning,
desperate grief with
waste our days in vain,
lie with breaths tainted,
blades fathom deep.
charge this bed of death,
mercy slaughtered youth.
power yet conquered in
bloody favor, never depart
with everlasting rest
from world-wearied flesh.
kiss engrossing death,
bitter conduct, desperate run.
upon hate all are punished;
for this story of woe.
misconceived ideas of strength and braveryi tried to be anorexic for three hours,misconceived ideas of strength and bravery by inkstaineddove
but i was too weak
and had to make myself a sandwich.
i heard you say these words
on a night when i could only
focus on the rumbling
in my stomach and mind
one telling me to eat,
the other saying to stop.
they made me choke back down
the bile and vomit
from the lunch i didn't have -
or maybe it was from
the dinner i din't want,
but was forced to consume.
you do not understand
how to tie in 'weak'
into a sentence that
doesn't make us -
your beauty fetish.
you are not weak
for not having a voice
whispering to you words like
"fat", "worthless", "ugly".
nor one that tells you to
"starve yourself", "shed a few, tubby",
and, my personal favorite,
"how can anyone love you like this?"
you are not weak
for not hating yourself
more and more with every
bite you take. you aren't weak
for not depending on restricting
to the point of where you eat
too few calories to even survive.
you are lucky.&
shoulda, coulda, wouldawhen i met you, i should've stayed callous.shoulda, coulda, woulda by inkstaineddove
i should've remained distant,
friendly yet too far to touch.
(out of orbit or not in your solar system?
only what ifs can decide which would
have saved us)
i could've ignored you.
i'm good at that you see.
i could've been firm in my mind about
trying you on for a ride.
(i would've done, but goddamit
you were so nice,
so generous and uplifting.
you stroked my ego and
reminded me that devotion
was possible for me to recieve)
at the breaking point, i should've phrased things
i should've considered you more human than
but your looks and actions were so co-dependent
that i could't help but cut the chord.
i could've had better timing.
i could've picked the week that we weren't
going to be trapped together for.
i could've made the separation easier.
(i would've left sooner if
i would've been smarter.
you would've been better
and i would've been less guilty)
we're reconnecting, so i should've been
clean up on isle 15don't cry over spilled milkclean up on isle 15 by inkstaineddove
but tell me, how am i not -
how am i supposed to suppress
the words in my head,
the pounding in my chest,
that reminds me once again i
how am i supposed
to hold everything back,
fight back the tears,
because everything -
and that is anything these days
ever since the doctors forced me away
and the pills were here to stay -
reminds me how much i screwed up.
or should i say everything
reminds me of how much i'm a
screw up, with eyes that water at
the smallest inconvenience and a
mind that's as sick as me and whispers,
just loud enough to echo through my skull,
maybe things would be better without you.
and yes, i know.
i know, i know, i know
that this "pity-party" must stop.
that i just simply have to snap out of this
or if im just pretending to be happy
it'll all get better.
but when you have voices that
that love to hug you tight,
glaze your eyes, cut out your tongue,
Love letters from the MarinerI returned home once the war was done, after four years of smoke, mud and enough glimpses of intestines to last me a lifetime. I was lucky to find most town left the same, from the boats in the harbour to the Widow Goodwin still in her mourning black, but appearing as young as lively as ever.Love letters from the Mariner by laurotica
Until I could arrange payment for a home of my own from my soldier's salary, I was staying with my sister, her husband and their three young children. Maureen had been lucky; Thomas lost his leg as an infant and was exempt from service. Though I had made it back from the south, many of our comrades were still scattered in pieces in the fields.
"I find it difficult to believe she hasn't remarried since I've left," I said over dinner, regarding Widow Goodwin's house from the kitchen window. It was one of the nicest of the shore homes.
"She's certainly had her share of suitors," Maureen sighed, nursing the youngest baby at the kitchen table. The other two were ups
|Based on a true story|
|A little bit angry, a little bit scared|
from florida with loveyou are an unstable constant in my lifein
(8) handpicked: places here is a journal page for pieces of art that might inspire you the way they inspire me.
love doesn't come with a get out of jail free card0.in
hello everyone weekly featureHello everyone!
hungry is synonymous for weaki measure my worthin
Fears Prompt WinnersThank you for your submissions for the Fears Prompt. Check out all the submissions in the Fears Prompt Gallery at http://goldmedalart.deviantart.com/gallery/?48765480
Winners Fears PromptThank you for your submissions for the Fears Prompt. Check out all the submissions in the Fears Prompt Gallery at http://goldmedalart.deviantart.com/gallery/?48765480and
Winners Fears PromptThank you for your submissions for the Fears Prompt. Check out all the submissions in the Fears Prompt Gallery at http://goldmedalart.deviantart.com/gallery/?48765480
american dreamMy father was spoon-fedin
Faves-Of-The-Week!Welcome to FOTW! I'm sorry this is so late. I spilled coffee on my computer a few days back and it is fried. So I have limited time to post or find faves. Let's dive right in.
down in wonderlandyou were king.
playing pretend shaped us to thisI am smoke filled lungsin
~ART FEATURE~so <3
icarus would have preferred a death like thisi want to feelin :thumb499978089:
Seven Step Recoveryi.You were my once upon-a-time. You were my prince. A stupid prince, albeit a pretty one. You were supposed to whisk me away off to the fantastical land of New Jersey as soon as we were legal.
there is no difference between plastic and nylonThis is another poem,
cicadas and sun isn't the southi remember
the broken always hide it besti remember nights wasted counting
from florida with loveyou are an unstable constant in my life
<img width="154" height="24" src="<iframe width="560" height="315" src="inkstaineddove.deviantart.com/" allowfullscreen></iframe>">
A 15 year old future lawyer. In my spare time I write about anything and everything. From the flowers in your hair to a freshly plucked orange. I also cannot write bios. Oops.
Icon made by Kattling
Care to find me elsewhere?:
Pottermore: SunSword23, Slytherin