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Literature
On Enduring the Nighttime
               The mind is its own place, and in it self can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n. ~John Milton, Paradise Lost
Midnight walks softly through our dim city,
Shedding her garments of heavy darkness,
Suddenly stilling all that was busy.
Only the shade she drops like a carcass
Can be seen on my porch; I can’t see her.
Tossed, her star-tinged scarf curtains the sky.
Midnight’s scent rivers through me— streams of myrrh
And dew-drenched grass flood the air once so dry.
           Under her Babylonian breath we are kept captive—
           Like the stoic moon wading, silently refractive,
           Separated from daybreak and drenched in her inky stamp.
          Resolute in a sable sea, on faith of a returning sun we’ll char.
          How fascinating match
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Literature
Cinder-eyed Cinderella
I saw her ignite at the masquerade.
At the foot where sprung a spiral stair,
I was kerosene drenched and unafraid.
Her delicate descent was a cascade—
Waterfall of ashen dress and auburn hair.
I saw her ignite at the masquerade.
Strawberry-speckled skin as she swayed
Lit the room. While she was burning through air,
I was kerosene drenched and unafraid.
Scent of cinnamon hovered like a handmaid.
My mirrored self encapsulated in her glare,
I saw her ignite at the masquerade.
Her approach and volcano-heated hush that laid
Behind her breath carried me to place where
I was kerosene drenched and unafraid.
Lured by lucid lips, I tiptoed past brocade
Curtains with her. We were not flicker but flare.
I saw her ignite at the masquerade:
I was kerosene drenched in unafraid.
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Literature
Stillborn
The soft sky, pregnant with clouds
Begging to split through the atmosphere,
Silently frozen, morbid and porcelain
Is something that will always remind me
Of her. The blood on the stark tile
Like rubies slumbering in the snow, sorrow
Lingering in the room like perfume,
And the soft sky, pregnant with clouds
Are memories I drag behind me
Like a corpse. The tick-tock mock of the clock’s
Morose minutes and your victimized voice were both
Begging to split through the atmosphere.
Clipboards and lab coats crowd the margins
Of my mind. Your quivering lips, earthquake hands,
and hollow shuddering irises contrasted her stillness—
Silently frozen, morbid and porcelain.
The priest’s words, the syllables that swam
Around the funeral without aim, your faith, battered,
Shaking at your feet, and her chiseled marble name
Is something that will always remind me.
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Literature
The Acrobat
She climbs and falls, quiet as the night.
Nimble, light as a serpent sigh.
We cry at such a sight.
          Purple spider painted in silver stockings wrapped tight
          In ruby ribbon splashed across her thigh,
          She climbs and falls, quiet as the
night.
Honeycombed in sequins and spotlight,
Trapped in her silk visage as a feeble fly,
We cry at such a sight.
          Lace dancing behind her like tail of a kite
          In the mock fiber optic sky.
          She climbs and falls, quiet as the
night.
No thread entwined hand to catch her headfirst flight.
Just below her waltz, death waits nigh.
We cry at such a sight.
          Sweaty hands slip, and our lips we bite.
          Her embrace is quick, instant as the dew in my eye.
             
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Literature
Jamestown Sonnet
           “Given these bones in a trash pit, all cut and chopped up, it’s clear that this body was dismembered for consumption.” ~anthropologist at 2013 Jamestown dig sight.
Sacrificed to the altar of human
Famine (and desperation). No longer
To lie in daffodil fields for ruin
Fastened itself atop her, much stronger,
Like the butcher who cleaved her innocence.
Blood gurgled in her cry, ribcage rattled
And shattered in branch-snapping dissonance.
Her flesh hung in the glass amongst cattle.
Her mangled remnants decrepit debris,
Sank into snaking spines of the horse bones
Intertwined like bleached vines. Soundless banshee,
Slaughtered child who met death with no gravestone.
She was found with no new discovery—
We’re civil until we become hungry.
:iconThomasInTheClouds:ThomasInTheClouds
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Literature
Odyssey
The human heart chases what makes it beat,
Or so my grandmother would always say.
When melted wax wings scorched my back, my feet
Found no pleasure treading Certainty’s way.
I read of a woman and a vast fleet
Of ten thousand sails. I was in Troy that day.
While a war was waging on those pages,
My mind, my core were freed from their cages.
And you ponder—ask, but what of my heart?
I keep it quiet, contained in the book,
Left to dry in the letters like damp art
Or a pitiful siren on a fishhook.
It’s safe in the binding, a homely rampart.
If you wish to see it, I know where to look—
Search the proud pages, maybe you will see,
Pulsating between words is my heart, is me.
:iconThomasInTheClouds:ThomasInTheClouds
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Literature
Death Row
I.
Whether he sway, rot inside or bleed,
“This is the price; this balance he owes.”
Like wolves, they will feed, feed, feed.
           With their newspapers and cameras they’ll seed.
           Spread and rooted as the digital wind blows—
           Whether he sway, rot inside or bleed.
Scribble that blood freefalls, suspended as a ruby bead
From the corner of his mouth as time slows.
Like wolves, they will feed, feed, feed.
          Shackled by angry eyes, his guilty verdict guaranteed
          Like ice in the arctic. The eulogy is already composed
          Whether he sway, rot inside or bleed.
Until from his wrecked body his soul freed,
The people like vultures, like pigs, like crows,
Like wolves, they will feed, feed, feed.
         His name will be bested; will spring
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Literature
Rust
“This weather is bewitching!”
She sat on her porch, steadily stitching.
Hair white as a wedding dress,
Pallid eyes and skin wordlessly confess
That she has seen ninety sun-soaked summers.
           Her heart could show drummers
           How to place passion in every beat.
           She rocked steadfast, silently in her seat.
She speaks with her husband everyday.
He never replies, under the grass where he lay,
But she still loves him.
Remembering his smile, warmth stretched to lungs, lips and limbs.
Storm clouds had gathered like senators plotting a coup,
           But gray was soon eclipsed by beatific blue.
           In relief, she set free a sigh that fluttered into the sky.
           Rust kissed on an iron windmill with a contorted cry.
She contemplated change. People wither like trees bald.
Did we know our fate when from the womb we crawled?
“Time is a pessimistic witch!”
History a tapestry, and we a mere stitch.
Things change without our consent.
   
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Literature
A Midnight Expunction
Evil angel, I ask thee
Why in your eyes am I caught?
Why must you come visit me?
Oh, that my brittle, breathless bones could drift on the sea!
Dark one, how do you steal the rest I have sought?
Evil angel, I ask thee.
Passing through windows or walls, you won’t leave me be.
Your livid visage, your angry eyes I have fought.
Why must you come visit me?
I will not cower to you, this will not be a plea.
Heart! Steady thyself and Soul! Tremble not.
Evil angel, I ask thee,
What chant or talisman would extinguish you-- make you flee?
Now-- before you are eclipsed from my thought,
Why must you come visit me?
With alexandrite lips, forked tongue and sable wings I see,
Prayers in my throat must not clot, lest I become as you—decay and rot.
Evil angel, I ask thee
Why must you come visit me?
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Literature
Song of Sebastian
Archer, steady your bow if you wish me destruction.
I am a bludgeoned temple, your hatred the construction.
You fear my words so you marry me to this tree.
            Your arrows don't frighten me.
With me silent-- whisperless as a stone sphinx.
Like a broken vessel, your humanity sinks.
Strings creak until murder files free,
             Your arrows don't frighten me.
Voracious vultures gather as if plotting a coup.
Your justice is has beaten me until I am blue,
But when my corpse smiles, you will see,
             Your arrows don't frighten me.
Faceless judge, chisel "martyr" on my gravestone.
See me in the margins of your thoughts, never leaving you lone.
My specter will sing to thee,
           "Your arrows don't frighten me."
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Literature
January Verses XIII
You are a phoenix enchantress
carrying me away; chariotest
to a better place.
Nesting with bliss and ember-eyed,
I dreamt of melted white symphonies slumbering
by you. Leaves change and trees bald,
and we are still constructing a star-dust
ladder leading to paradise.
                               [Leaning
                                on lucid-lover
                                lips]
Your breath sears, singes and burns
my neck with a potent passion.
You are an absolute—
I am ashes in the wind.
Consumed by your blaze.
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Literature
January Verses XII
Rise
        with
                 me
                       like
                               balloons
                        daring
                     to
                seize
          the
galaxy.
Just
  before
we
           (P o p!)
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Literature
January Verses XI
Oh, what a sight of beatific delight!
When metronomic hands meet and chime.
To see you wrapped in satin and sunlight,
Shipwrecked in sublime whilst hearts climb.
I’ll follow you as a slave chases freedom.
Tangle myself in gilded tress and dulcet sound.
You belong with a monarch in a crystalline kingdom,
For kings covet you more than adorned crown.
Bless me with mystique, summer smiles.
And with azure eyes, my mind to lure
To distant dwellings like volcanic isles.
Love’s a falcon of faith and you the dove demure.
           Darling, am I searching for fortune or fame?
           No, I’m only looking to change your last name.
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Literature
January Verses X
It wasn’t a simple diminuendo,
But rather a crashingly beautiful
Halt
When I found you, and you found
My emotion locked in a forgotten
Vault.
Words coagulate in my throat but
With love like a life raft, they are
Caught.
My heart tries to break through
My sternum when you’re in the
Room.
There is a chaotic comfort billowing
Betwixt us like a turning in a mother’s
Womb.
Little Lioness, you have lucidly liberated
Me to elysian horizons from a once-lifeless
Tomb.
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Literature
January Verses IX
When I am away from her,
   Languor and lassitude
Seize turns, pulsating
   In accordance with one
           Another, underneath
           Murmurous floorboards.
These fragile fears
   Shatter like glass
Against a frigid marble
   Floor with the inkling
           Or presence of her
           Scintillating visage.
Though unforgiving winds
   Bite my banished skin, I
Smile with her sempiternal
           Portrait painted in my
           Ever-fluttering heart.
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Literature
January Verses VIII
Ethereal smiles and umbrella skies
Led me like lanterns through our limitless nights.
I was swallowed whole by Pangaea-wide sighs,
Swimming for your heart and its resplendent lights.
I love it when my fingers
            Are wrapped in your hair—
Or when your taste lingers
            In the ardent air.
When I look to the skies,
When I vanquish my thoughts to galaxies,
I intrepidly imagine your eyes
And fly away (as a phantom) from this r
                                                        e
                                                     a
                                                         l
                                                      i
                                                          t
                                                      y.
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Favourites

Literature
Falling Drown
still tes
          ting, hun
          ting, for
          the perfect
   chemical combi
   nation, aching
   to achieve
   the god re
                  action
that paci     fies
      satis   fies
and recti  fies
my volt   age
           into
a  +balanced-  supply
      and
    this
 need
drives
droves
tankers rusting
      ashore
      on the rocks
            and i am
      but a vessel
   burst bleeding
           toxic tank
           king battery
     (leaking)
           jellied  n e r v e s
     
:iconBlackBowfin:BlackBowfin
:iconblackbowfin:BlackBowfin 13 4
Literature
Glass Half Full
We have a new cat now.
She streaks through the house
and sleeps in your old beds,
watching me from the rocking chair
as I habitually seek you out.
She's sweeter than you--
she sits in my lap
and plays with my fingers,
doll-faced and docile
against your angular independence.
I still search for you
amongst the cracks in my heart
as you slip like sand
deeper into the dark recesses
of my faulty memories.
I am always afraid
that my tears will ruin the circuitry
through which I access
our sunny afternoons and quiet nights,
and you will slip beyond me.
I did not hope for an afterlife
until I ran my fingers through your cold fur,
and understood why people find solace
in broken hymnals and new beginnings;
I miss my pessimism.
:iconSeilf:Seilf
:iconseilf:Seilf 242 47
Literature
To My Biology Textbook
On page 159 of my biology textbook, it reads,
“...cancer is the uncontrolled growth of cells”
as though that could explain everything,
and I thought it did for a time.
But my textbook never warned me
that his skin would pale
to a point where I could see
the blue freight trains
carrying eighteen pills
throughout his frail body.
My textbook never warned me
that his watery irises would freeze over,
that he would hurl insults like knives,
and that he would clench his jaw
as tightly as his fist clenched his wine glass
because the only person to blame is himself,
and he can’t swallow that as easily
as he can the olives in his martinis.
And my textbook never warned me
that it would be this difficult to breathe
because of my acute awareness
that his breaths are limited,
and that there would be nothing I could do
but soldier on searching for that silver lining
clinging to these foreboding thunderheads.
:iconsaltwaterlungs:saltwaterlungs
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Literature
wishes like constellations
I hope the stars kiss your dreams
goodnight.
I hope the moon snugly tucks you in,
while the Ursa Major reads to you
a bedtime story.
I hope you realize that the universe
is in your palms,
and that galaxies dance like lovers
on your fingertips.
:icononebrokewriter:onebrokewriter
:icononebrokewriter:onebrokewriter 7 2
Journal
Finales and Preludes
Personal
I spent the first few hours of my new year with literature and Pokemon X. We'll get to the literature later. Right now, I've been enjoying the latest entry in the Pokemon franchise. I don't know if I've gotten better, or the games have gotten easier, but I'm not having as much trouble catching the stupid things as I used to. Then again, it sure is nice of the developers to put someone near the beginning that gives you False Swipe :lol:
I've heard from Doc that he has to wear a brace on his arm for another month before he can start therapy. He is getting better, but it's slow going. Nothing I can do about it, though I'd least like to help keep him entertained while he's incapacitated. Hence a basket full of movies and stuff.
Last time we talked, I spent most of the conversation explaining dA to him :XD: Among some other Internet stuff. I'll probably end up linking this feature to him; I told him what I was working on and he was interested and that c
:iconSilverInkblot:SilverInkblot
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Literature
bursting with light
at heart we are all flood-worshippers,
a fetishization of water
carrying some stray seed.
i am an ambassador
a sunbeam unable to disturb
          the arrythmic breathing of your hypnopompic nightmare
a slave to what neither i nor any of you
                will ever describe.
open the gates
-
the sun will melt
     the moment you understand.
(and i'll shed my body
     into a cloudy flock of rays
on this faraway hilltop)
(you can't see me)
i am but less than one percent
of the sky solution
drink it
drink it all
:iconghostinafog:ghostinafog
:iconghostinafog:ghostinafog 19 10
Literature
Mabon
there are dead leaves
sprouting from her amber spine,
reaching with child-fingers
to devour the sun.
her skin is freezing,
seeping winter through
november pores.
seeking warmth,
the whiskey tongues
of godless boys
wish to decipher
the atlas of her thighs.
counting the sleepy fireflies
alight in her lungs- there is
wanderlust churning & warming
her frostbitten heartstrings.
swinging pendulum hips,
"I am the tease of autumn flames.
I breathe in mint sunsets,
& gasoline dreams."
:iconDearPoetry:DearPoetry
:icondearpoetry:DearPoetry 229 74
Literature
shall i read your palm?
father-daughter whisked away
by a somber autumn's brush.
dripping with misfortune,
it casts shadows on lullabies
with a lacking-light of sorrow.
oh, widow-toddler glossy-eyed
i've spotted nuanced undertones of
hospital chapels and lillies
highlighting cancer-mottled flesh
as this family
  freshly
     minus
        one
draws its lonely breath.
hey, daddy-standing-silent,
i see you
unpolished treasures slipping
through your ring-less fingers.
is she the en memoriam
you think you just can't stand?
curling in the life line
of your not-yet empty hand:
your precious baby girl.
:iconTales-of-Tao:Tales-of-Tao
:icontales-of-tao:Tales-of-Tao 21 14
Literature
How To Write A Villanelle In Its Many Forms
Warning: Fixed Form Poetry Approaching
The villanelle is a fixed form of poetry originating from the French that has grown in popularity in the English language. Over the years, the traditional villanelle has been put to great use by many notable poets, including, Dylan Thomas, Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Theodore Roethke, and Oscar Wilde (double villanelle in traditional). There are also many wonderful, more modern and progressive examples of the form by poets today, such as
:iconNichrysalis:Nichrysalis
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Literature
Tall tales and the shadows they'd cast
Mother used to tell me
that the spirits air their grievances
when September nights reach
their coolest.
"When, then," I'd mumble,
"might I air mine?"
"Somewhere between the cusp of
October and the last leaf's pass
into senility."
And I'd stare into yellow-flaked evenings
until I, too, lost myself.
:iconBluezbreakr:Bluezbreakr
:iconbluezbreakr:Bluezbreakr 4 5
Literature
Berserker
In the forests of my home
where the evergreens
grab at the stars,
I lay naked on my side.
Pretending to be
sleeping.
There is a white bear
lumbering on my porch.
He slams his weight
against my door;
eyes glazed over like a shark-
and he is hungry,
he whispers to me:
I have seen the sunset through the trees
and that is not enough.
:iconFallingAsleepTonight:FallingAsleepTonight
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Literature
I Will Freeze Summer.
don't pity me. don't.
you think i have icicles for bones
because i tell you i am cold-blooded.
true, my breath is cool, and I will melt
in the rain.
but my blood
is red
as yours.
how long have i wondered?
how long have i watched you and thought,
"we could make it"?
no. no. we could have made it.
but only if i freeze summer
and wear it in a jar around my neck.
yes, it will be heavy (the rain this year--relentless)
but i should like to keep
the sparkling of stars and sunshine
on my collar.
something tells me we were significant.
if that is true,
then perhaps one day
i can uncork July
and we'll escape into the leaves
burning bloodred.
and if it is not,
i will hide it in my chest
so that the sunbeams will thaw
my heart,
even as my veins are frozen
as the summer stars.
:iconMermaidInDisguise:MermaidInDisguise
:iconmermaidindisguise:MermaidInDisguise 5 10
Literature
fathom
and since you asked,
yes, this is how
I always see you:
grinning, unchaste,
eyes a
bright toxic viridian,
like a bowlful of
Mediterranean sky;
like an ocean
sliced open at the
meridian,
baring its frigid depths,
each tentacled squid,
each sucker and fin and
poisonous thing,
parted for me
as if I were Moses,
as if you were the Red Sea,
as if I could see
every wild thing
that teems within you
:icontoxic-nebulae:toxic-nebulae
:icontoxic-nebulae:toxic-nebulae 35 38
Literature
things you don't learn in school
I found a cricket
on the roadside, put it
in a mason jar to show the world
and called it by a first name.
He died of loneliness shortly
thereafter and i learned how wretched
it is to be forsaken.
When I was twelve, I watched a boy
slit his wrists with a plastic spork
at lunch, and though I
laughed at the irony, all i kept thinking was
"I really hope he washed his hands."
He bled tears
of scarlet red that looked
just like tomato sauce, but I just stood
there because it was the coolest thing
I'd ever seen.
The boy, he smelled of dirty
laundry and cigarettes and sorrow
and used to sit by the window
until the bell, where he'd wait until everyone
had gone outside to make sure it was safe.
His eyes were the hollowed rings
of Saturn, with freckles
like stars & cosmic bruises
up and down his arms.
If he spoke, it was of distant shores and escape,
and we believed it
when he talked of things like freedom,
hearing the scratch of gravel
roads from within his throat.
I realized one day that I'd nev
:iconsuccesswithhonor:successwithhonor
:iconsuccesswithhonor:successwithhonor 53 10
Literature
this is not a suicide note
what would change if i left?
would you wear your sadness
like a bullet-- raw and fresh and
slung, chafing, into solemn chambers;
or would you swallow it down
to poison your lungs,
steal your breath & dissolve
the remnants of me?
would you smoke yourself out,
a pyre of anger in one fist
smouldering with resentment--
unfueled but hot and bright and
burning our love to ashes;
or would you hang it,
trailing, coiled around your neck
where it will catch, untenanted,
on shards of me and tighten
to choke you?
would you throw in the towel
and jump, too, unfettered
without my soul;
or would you just breathe butterflies,
an exultation of relief and gratitude?
:iconcamelopardalisinblue:camelopardalisinblue
:iconcamelopardalisinblue:camelopardalisinblue 71 67

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Activity


It's a rainy Saturday, so a Pixar and Dreamworks marathon is about to go down in this apartment!

Brave
Wall-E
Up
Over the Hedge
Despicable Me
The Incredibles
How to Train Your Dragon
Finding Nemo
Shrek
A Bug's Life

Yes, I have very childish taste :3

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ThomasInTheClouds

Artist | Student | Literature
United States
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:iconblackbowfin:
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hello Thomas.  Thanks for faving Falling Drown.  It's much appreciated.
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:iconsaltwaterlungs:
saltwaterlungs Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the favourite!
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:iconbeeswingblue:
beeswingblue Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2013   Writer
Thanks for the fave. :heart:
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:iconoaklungs:
oaklungs Featured By Owner Dec 11, 2013
thank you so much for the watch :blushes:
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:iconneonsquiggle:
neonsquiggle Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the favorite! :)
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:iconmermaidindisguise:
MermaidInDisguise Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Sorry I continually spam your gallery with comments; I am simply in awe of your talent, and I think I should let you know when you write something incredible. 

Anyway, thanks for the fave! Glad you liked it!
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:iconthomasintheclouds:
ThomasInTheClouds Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2013  Student Writer
It's not spam, you're an awesome encouragement :)

I loved it! I read it a few times to catch all the imagery. It was very unique and gorgeous.
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:iconmermaidindisguise:
MermaidInDisguise Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Don't make me blush! :iconblushplz:


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:iconsuccesswithhonor:
successwithhonor Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2013  Student Writer
thanks for the read!
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:iconmomo-madness:
momo-madness Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2013   Writer
thanks for the watch thomas :love::love: it means the world <3
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