Latest Posts by hog-mage - Page 5
For when she drew her last breath, giving up her soul, too tired to run anymore, he was there, taking her away, forever his, mind, body, and soul. He had made her.
Nights vulnerability...
The night, in my opinion is beautifully and wonderfully vulnerable. It is like a woman, spread out, waiting to be devoured. As a woman, spread out and waiting to be devoured, every whisper is like a shout, and every touch is intensified that even the most feather like touch will leave you gasping and aching for more, arching and pleading for some kind of connection. Night is honest in its utter silence and reserve. Even though the world is dark, you have to open your eyes and be focused, and let your eyes adjust to the majesty. As the creatures of the night come out to prowl, there is a presence, allowing for the hunt, the vulnerability of spirit, allowing truth to be set free. Freedom comes at 2 AM, when happiness is abound, and feet ache from wandering aimlessly, that they take you to refuge in the comfort of home where Morpheus wraps his arms around you, welcoming you to heaven. The day comes, a respite for night, until vulnerability is upon us again, promising passion, love, and honesty.
If you look at the big picture
we are a spec in an enormous blob of chaos.
It's 3am...
And I'm missing my husband. He's on a business trip, and I'm in need. I'm wanton, craving his smell, touch, his sweat, his fingers, his cock, his rough and stubbled chin teasing me.....down there.
I hope you all got a rush from posting things I liked.
A naturalized progression
Begging --> Fingering --> Oral --> Making love --> Each to our separate bathrooms to wash away the shame.
Be careful, feminism is just another label people like to throw around and feel superior with. Just live your life and don't worry about it. Treat women the way you treat your phone; with care and intense fear of breaking. I could be wrong.
So they really are bitches!
Only female mosquitoes bite, because they need the protein in your blood to produce their eggs. Source
This is all I need in the world
Tonight I surrender...
To the darker part of me. To let go of the purity of a gentle heart. To withdraw from the notion of others first before my own needs. To not be afraid of wanting to want. Tonight I surrender.
My soul at the moment
Look up diphallia,
And get back to me in the morning. You’ll be thanking me. You’re welcome!
Baby got Vocab...
Baby got vocab.
I like big words and I can not lie. You other brothers can't deny, that when a girl walks in with a big ass list and a dictionary in your face, you got sprung.
Pull up a seat, Cuz you know that that girls brain is full. Deep in her head she's thinking bombastic forms of circumlocution.
Oh baby, I wanna study with you and read your notes. My homeboys tried to warn me, but that brain you got, makes me go stuttering.
Ooh, your big brain makes me feel no shame teach me because your not the normal dame.
Baby got vocab.
Porn stars...
I follow them on Instagram because I think they lead the most honest lives.
I'm an introvert...
Trying to live in an extroverts world. Please, just let me talk to myself in the corner while I drink my Sunny D.
He says....
"Let me die first, because I can't live without you." He is alive because I am breathing.
Sometimes
I think about such things as our willingness to breathe and keep on living when all is tragedy. But we are strong because we awoke in the morning because yesterday we did not die, and that is something to be joyous about.....sometimes.
To thine own self be true...
We are, every single one of us a different person. We are born and we acquire different looks, different body types, different skill sets, personalities, and we have to find out who we are and be true to ourselves, and don't waste energy trying to be like someone else. Figure out who you are. And really be happy with what you have.
Perhaps puddles are glimpses into another world, and whenever people jump into a puddle, natural disasters happen in that world. Perhaps this is why disasters happen.
Criticism of Life
My suicide note, if I were ever to commit suicide, that is. But I don't like taking the easy way out. Behold, my poem. Criticism of Life To whom it may concern, and it may not concern anyone, not even you. I am alone in my madness, my thoughts give voice to my trigger finger, my aim is true. A pause before death, my escape from emotion, I have no doubts. I stare down the barrel of my .45, I have no means to go on living. I have no fear, I have no hesitation, I have no want for a memorable speech, I have no tears. This is no more philosophic than history, my life will not live on in books, I wish to not be remembered. My aim is true, it's my time, I am ready. My heart holds no fear, it too is ready. I give my last breath, a click, a shot, a smile, a moment in time. Pity to the one who finds me.
Who will set me free
My pen is my comfort. Behold, my poem. *Who will set me free? I have been deceived, I believed my own lies. I am rooted to the earth, and I bare no fruit, only that of death. There is conflict within myself which holds me fast. I am in bondage to my own sin, which is eternally battling within. What gives life eventually gives one death. A cry of despair leaves my lips. I am disease, and whoever touches me, receives death. I do not possess the power of a life pleasing to live, for my leaves wither dry. I leave myself open and vulnerable to sin. I am rooted to the earth and I bare no fruit, only that of death. I wait for the one to set me free, to whom I will surrender all.
Givebackbox.com is a free service that helps you reuse and recycle shipping boxes while donating items to charity. Just print out a pre-paid shipping label, stuff the box with donations (like gently used clothing), and send it out.
Source
Eating before you shop, going alone, making a list and sticking to it, taking advantage of student discounts, using mobile and printed coupons, getting in-season produce, and buying generic store brands can save you thousands of dollars a year on groceries.
Source
Secrets of the girl.
Secrets of the girl...
One day, a lonely little girl knelt down to the ground, and stroked the roots of a growing tree. Ever strong it was that she was comforted by its silence.
Everyday she went to this tree and whispered to it, telling it all her secrets, knowing well her words would be locked away.
Years pass, but ever true, the tree was her north, and she could not stay away. The tree was big, as if every secret she told it watered it with life.
Ever beautiful this tree was, the leaves never falling, despite the change of season, longing for the girls presence. The tree was alive, yearning for the girls whispered words.
One day, the little girl, who now is ready to leave the earth as an old soul visits the tree one last time, with its beautiful strength and never falling leaves, strokes the roots one last time, and whispers her final goodbye.
The tree, feeling her spirit pass, sheds its own tears of loss, and it’s leaves fall away, floating into the sky, releasing all the secrets throughout the years. One by one, the leaves fall, and the final whisper was the first whisper of that lonely girl long ago: “Don’t leave me.”