REDEBONY'S BOOK BOUTIQUE

image by life takes crayons I hit him back. I couldn't believe that my tiny fist had been a wrecking ball in Adrien crux's arrogant features. " you just...." he stumbled back as though in a dazed drunk stupor. Last year we had been face to face, nose to nose, and the knife he prodded near my round stomache, I was not pregnant just larger than the girls he was used to dating. I knew I wasn't as pretty. " have you lost your mind?" He raised himself to his full height his handsome features mutilated. Swiping the blood from his nostrils. " if I left you," " if you left me who would love me right?" I slunk back against the wall, expecting the slaps I was familiar with. It came like the thrash of a whip. My grey eyes tearing as his brown eyes encompassed in shadow. " I stuck by you when nobody else did," " you drive them all away," I mumbled the terror still ripe in my throat. " they weren't the right p

image from pinterest " it's because he loves you that he left," I swept my armada curls, metal and ink behind the curve of a pointed lobe. I wanted to fight her, my mother for not being honest to herself. For allowing him to tiptoe into the house his scent staining a map I had suddenly begun to figure out. " he'll be back again," her fudge tinted eyes lit like candles. " How does someone love you so much they leave, " " grown ups need space." we were on the edge of my bed, a bunk bed that once invited companions. I glared hard face at the pis coloured walls, once I danced in this room, now it was yellow and somehow it was blue. The scent of candle wax and gin hung in the air like a veil. Mother had rouge lipstick on. Mother did this to pep herself up Everytime he left because once upon a time she'd been told my father was too pretty for her, that once upon a time stayed. It dug into her confidence scraping the gleam out of her e

I understand growing up and needing to upgrade your image but what renee Zellwegger has done, i believe will ultimately cost her her career. She was beautiful before. Absolutely stunning. Those eyes that sparkled those apple cheeks, she had that girl next door look and she would have grown into that woman next door look. Shes unrecognizable. I know her industry is tough, but we want to see the real Renee, the face we recognise, she was an asset to the film industry, that girl next door look really worked. Now she looks like something of real housewives, Renee....this is not happiness. What message is she sending to women her age and young girls.

Slinky eyes and bedroom talk All our fears They take a walk Shadowed corners Private Scapes From this trap Ones no escape You are self and self as I My morning juice My lullabye

image from   evanira.deviantart.com "Your crazy you know that, this is acid rock hardcore shit it eats you." I shrugged at Adrien Molex, swiped playfully at his fringe. We were sitting on the highest precipice of nature's den, a place perfect for climbers. "Your really gonna do this to beat her." "I'd do anything to beat that fucking," His malteser eyes swallowed me, a thick finger pressed against my pulsing mouth. We were alive together. Fire in our veins, alcohol drowning our curling Oesophogus. Danger on the tongue. The bitch we were talking about was my twin sister Rhia. He was banging her, because that's how men communicate with her immaculate features, and slender shape. Then when he knocked on our door, the third time, there was a moment, like a bubble had swallowed us and we were in our hub. " It's ridiculous to think a man like you could love someone like her," i'd seethed internally.My eyes sparked with jealo

Kissing dust The one i trust i never showed you the mess of us how when you lean we  scatter Sherbet Kisses   air  this mirage says harps just dont care Though hands are thick and locked like chains Find me in the arc near your shadow Preparing the tedium Of your tomorrow Wiping windows sprawled out on desk an itching flesh It needs caressing Kissing Kissing Kissing dust This self i love this you i trust for fingers do not own the musk.

Soul brother systems ink Brain is scrambled these thoughts i think I catapult myself into the hub of your arms thick and strong you are the branches Where Tree whispers song Fish Calypso in this Ocean dew I have seen Yet am blind to the worst of you With each tiptoe Fingers tiptoe across your skin Mr Chocolate let me in

There's nothing more frustrating than the pain of other people's lies. It's not so much what they do, but the fact they dare to think they can do it, lie about it, and make you appear emotionally unstable to those around you. Cruelty which stems from envy, the need to have a sense of power and control over others and the lives they live. These things are done consistently and then they gaslight you. Gas lighting is a form of emotional abuse when someone close to you or in your viccinity, humiliates or degrades you over a period of time, making you feel less than adequate, then convincing you it's all in your head. That you imagined such things. It's disgusting, cowardly, hurtful, but above all it's the most malicious form of abuse there is. They systematically bully and attempt to convince you, its all in your head, when you and others witnessed what was taking place. We often wonder how such people live with themselves, how they justify such cruelty, an

When your not supposed to be with someone your not supposed to be with them. You dont want them and no amount of bullying harassment or wearing you down systematically should divine that this one person is who you turn to. I once came across a guy who betrayed me in the worst way, after reaching out to him because i thought potentially he might make a good friend, i got the shock of my life. First i was ridiculed and humiliated by those around him so he'd feel better about himselves, but when is started moving past that. Getting my self confidence back,other guys began to find me attractive. He became extremely jealous as though i were a posession, as though i belonged to him. The more i struggled to build my self esteem the more he'd desperately tear it down, he was your archetypal psychopath. If i recieved phone calls from other men, he'd spread lies amongst neighbours and friends, ensure the people who i had once connected to were involved that i was loose or whori

painting by Franz Von Smells, i cant put my finger on it cinnamon leaks through your nostrils, mint slides down your lungs. The hair.Short shiny bob, rich eyes a purple blue hue, lean frame, she was something you awed at. She looked like the others, the others look like mother when she was young, pretty happy, with her shiny black bob and retail uniform. She was dead in the eyes, I had to kill her. I had to kill them, it was my favour to the world, their beauty was a stain on it. It doesn't make sense, 365 days, 24 hours, i finish work at 9:30, their eyes are glued to me, those spirits, they watch my every move, she was other worldly. I had to bury her before i burried her. It started in a dream, unravelling like a scarf, 365 days, 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week, she was a poltergeist haunting my thoughts. They speak in hushed tones when i march into the office, whisper, gulping down words that are delicious to only them. It's girls like her, i dated a girl that

image from the daily mail "Flipkart," "Yeah my dad runs flipkart." Alistair was lying as usual, but in our circle you pretend like Alistair doesn't lie. Alistair does nothing wrong, because it was the week of the chosen one, and this week Alistair Roosevelt that short piece of spit on the back of my shoe, was a chosen one in our fraternity. " I'm not drinking blood," he panicked. " We pass the cup around you sip it, it's not like your gulping it, most of it is Ribena," My eyes circled the small hedge of trees in our small wood. Arsehole, how the fuck did he get in with my friends anyway, he had these like i call it, the pencil dot eyes, and these huge glasses which seemed to suffocate his pert nose. He was pale and freckled, and his new hair do reminded me of a hedgehog. A brown furry hedgehog. Shit, who am i kidding, he wasn't short he'd sprung up, was tall with bulky arms and this deep throaty voice that made gi

image from pinterest My mother had the right idea about self destruction. Being a narcissist the whole world seemed to be soaked into her vigil, worshiping her timeless countenance of ill constructed self narrative. It was about her. Her dagger green eyes, the arrogant tilt of her chin, her Moccha skin and the smile with bladed dimples. Men fawned at her feet, people asked stupid questions just to ask questions in the first place and now at 33 i was still the little girl tugging at the hem of a flowing skirt. Ida Rhodes never wore trousers, they were too masculine for her. Everything had to be everything, and in her orb, the world was me as well worshiping at the foot of a goddess.  " New changes." She spoke in her clipped diction, as the car swiped sweat beads of rain in traffic. " A blue car." "Yes mother a blue car." " What happened to red it used to be your favourite colour?" " I'm not sixteen anymore." "Your h

Brilliant and hysterical.

Fighting fat for all the sisters out there. Colour, flamboyance, Rhythm, discipline and culture. This work out will leave men  druling, dance as a form of creativity. A workout, but most of all .....it's fun, Scola Dondo you rock. Dance as expression, the kukere workout, it's fab.