| a l l y s o n r a i n e ; teenaged girl/writer/lover. <3; pretty things/ugly things/music/bright colors/dark colors/words/scary movies/funny people/coffee. </3; people that don't listen/gory movies/the dark/being alone too much. " i`m addicted to words and they`re useless " -motion city soundtrack |
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SUNSHiNE MACHiNE: 4CHAPTER FOUR; SPENCERSUNSHiNE MACHiNE: 4
So there I sat, waist deep in everything I've done wrong, and I couldn't do a thing about it the way I should. Because, of course, I fall three times as hard if it's for nothing at all. I'd made Morse code of my wrists and inner thighs, dot-dot-dashes of cigarette burns and razor kisses built up over the years, and I had countless empty bottles hidden all over my room; I was still barely capable of the damage I'd like to have done.
All the kid wanted was to be friends with me, and I had to go batshit on him, because I couldn't stand the thought of letting myself
by ~rainey-days
SUNSHiNE MACHiNE: 3CHAPTER THREE; BRENDONSUNSHiNE MACHiNE: 3
I guess some people are just born with a warning label. Like maybe that girl that rides your bus - you know she's among the skankier few, so you would never pursue a relationship with her. That's just common sense, you know how she is. But other people - I guess, some other people should have been.
Like this one girl, who can't be more than 5' even, with hair that looks dark brown, but if you look close enough it actually looks like it was dyed black months ago, with an inch or so of mousy brown roots. A girl with chapped lips and round ey
by ~rainey-days
SUNSHiNE MACHiNE: 2CHAPTER TWO; SPENCERSUNSHiNE MACHiNE: 2
Jesus Christ, I thought. And I thought I'd never see that kid again. But surely enough, I could see him from across the park; tall and skinny, his strawberry-blondeish floppy emo-boy hair looking bright orange in the mid-August sun. He wouldn't stand out to me in a crowd, but I was burdened with the ability to recognize him. I hate acquaintances.
I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out my Newports and my lighter and pushed myself a little higher on my swing. Brendon was approaching, adorned with a smile that was a bit too ha
by ~rainey-days
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house arrest doesn't needgrandpa is coughing in the other room, staining the white walls grey with nicotine.house arrest doesn't need
he says since his wife died, this is the only thing he'll let close to his heart.
dammit, this winter is cold, he splutters, pulling a blanket closer to his frail body.
grandpa is coughing in the other room, punctuative calls of 'please, i love you- please, please stop' erupting from the uncivilised throat of his muddy mutt.
he is a conch shell, wearing his golden-rule shoulders and perfect spirality with more than a pride, eighty-seven and still adamant that smoking is not bad for you. lungs are made
by *ohsostarryeyed
Ice Christmby =armene
by *monislawa
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