missalyshachristine
Profile
I’m seventeen.
And I don’t comprehend the notion of time.
I like conversation.
And I play with my food sometimes.
Groups
missalyshachristine is a member of All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical and The Word Tree.
Journal Entries
We're on our way to a slow suicide darling.
Posted 5 months ago.
Hello world.
Posted 6 months ago, 8 comments so far.
A Monster on a Good Day and all of its parts
Posted 6 months ago, 2 comments so far.
Anyone up for..
Posted 6 months ago.
Maybe I'll just throw myself a fucking pity party
Posted 6 months ago, 9 comments so far.
OK so I realized..
Posted 6 months ago, 2 comments so far.
Melodramatics.
Posted 6 months ago, 7 comments so far.
The Road.
Posted 7 months ago, 2 comments so far.
.alone.
Posted 7 months ago, 2 comments so far.
Here's to letting go.
Posted 7 months ago, 4 comments so far.
Writing
Bitter Banter leaves Billy Bleeding
It starts as a low rumble in my stomach. Like acid bubbling up and up. Thinking about it burns my throat like it’s being eaten away. Sorry for the harsh visuals, but they bother me so why not sh…
When the whiskey runs low and my boots start to grow a little taller.
For the first time in a long length of it I cannot write. My pages no longer bleed unto another but somehow run off the page and onto my hands. Where they are stained into marks that will not come off…
Selfishness is comprised of metaphors and similes.
You like to get drunk off the notion that nothing is beyond your understanding. And I like to get high off your foolishness.
A Monster on a Good Day (part i)
I try not to judge, but sometimes when i’m stealing your innocence I can’t help but pity your weaknesses. If I lie still enough, I can feel my blood flow. In and out of every crease in my …
I built you a card house today.
One time I built you a card house. Just to watch you tear it down. I tried to warn you that it was fragile with my eyes but you weren’t paying much attention, so I just went on painting a blank …
Puddles like oceans that swallow me whole.
Dark skies spit angrily at me and I find myself laughing in spite of them. It doesn’t even matter anymore. There’s something about the way the leaves rustle and laugh and whisper that shou…
