Missy Giorgi - 22 - Madison Heights, MI
I am a giggly, goobery, artsy fartsy, nerdy, doe eyed musician / flower child / vixen. I like impromptu adventures in the wild and dancing around in my undies to upbeat tunes when no one is home while pretending I’m a DJ. I love new friends!
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***Porn, NSFW, BDSM, Kink-Friendly Blog
***Occult, Spiritual, Tarot, New Age Blog
***Fashion, Make-Up, Models and Art Blog
***"Superwholock and more!" Fandom Blog
***Poetry, Quotes and Literary Blog
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I’m a dreamer, dreaming to go back to the start when I would taste your lips on every shared cigarette and lose my fucking mind in you (back when you were lost inside me, too). I still wake with you on my tongue, with the scent of your skin creeping into my sleeping world, so can you just tell me what the fuck you want so I can move on, too? Make me understand why you are gone when there is still so much left to see from one anothers’ eyes that once were guided by fire light that our bodies, drawn together by a natural gravity, did ignite?
Can you just give me the peace of knowing how you so easily erased the memories of our shared pulse that can only be measured in how many of my breaths you took away, you took for keeping, that I’ll never have again, in your beautiful being?
And can you tell me why, when all I had to give was love, and all you promised seemed so real, can you give reason to my disposition, to my being discarded and collecting particles of dust (decaying in the back of your closet that reeks of stale beer and expired wine) with the rest of the memories you found unfit to occupy your life?
I used to be your favorite hello and your hardest goodbye. I used to be be someone you wanted to wake up to, and fall asleep with at night. I used to be the smile you adored, the tears you longed to dry. I used to be beautiful, used to be useful. I used to be, used to be, used to be, used to be. Now with the bitter taste of bar atmosphere numbing your conscious, do you even fucking remember me?
Boy, you still fill me with nervous laughter and excitement that, in the most peculiar way, pleasantly sickens me (like a bloody horror movie or violent fist fight that resolves nothing) when I see your name flash across the face of my telephone or feel your nails drag across my back on those rare and bittersweet nights that our flesh joins in discord and I know that in the morning you’ll hope to forget (but never do) that I trusted you enough to let you inside of the vulnerable being you made me, because, and this is how I know you are still human, the guilt would eat you alive to know I breathe, ashamed, betrayed, knowing you used me, you USED me, just like alcohol, to fill, not cure, your unattended-to inner feelings of inadequacy.
But fuck, I feel it’s worth it every time to fuck you in silent repressed heart broken agony, even though I feel lost inside the part of my soul where you used to be. I feel lost inside of myself, with this bed we shared unkempt the way you left it, everything as it was, still in place, untouched: every sex stain and outline where our bodies used to lay curled into one another completely unaltered in the accumulating days since your departure with the world around me racing forward into the future and my mind caught in the shock of your absence and the lingering sensation of your body filling up my recently emptied arms as I wait for, unsure of the guarantee of, the grace of your energy to return and reclaim the barren parts of my life that you left to decay without explanation.
And I know these are questions you probably don’t want to face, but for the peace of my mind, can you just swallow your fucking pride or your fear, or your hate, or your anger, or your addiction or whatever the fuck it is you won’t let on that is driving you insane for just a moment, if even to slightly enlighten me:
Why did you give up on me? And how could you leave me in love, so terribly alone? God, I just need to know… How did I become stuck here with the ghost of what we used to be fucking mocking me? Mocking me?
I never wanted to bother you, to cause you harm or frustrate you… I just wanted to live in the deepest parts of your mind where all the bad thoughts fester so I could kill them, like a dream-catcher, and save you from the motions of an ill tide like the one that now fills your closet with boxes of stale beer and a hint of the smell of expired wine…
And, fuck, what I wouldn’t give to see myself from your eyes to know if you can even see me at all… To know if you, willingly, are letting me drown. To know if, when I can hear you in a whisper, you can’t even hear me screaming..?
I’ll be okay… Is that what you want me to say? To say that it doesn’t hurt and that I don’t care? That my life is no different without you here? That I don’t want you and I don’t miss you and I’m doing just fine without you? That I don’t still feel you in the middle of the night when I wake in a panic from a nightmare of your absence reaching out just to feel the reassurance of your warmth to find you aren’t fucking there? That I don’t crave your touch, or think of the life we shared before you chose to walk away from everything we built, so beautifully, by pulling from the deepest, uncharted and unexplored corners of our heart together… together… together… Do you really want me to be okay without you just because you’re fine and fucking dandy sucking down a bottle of “Fuck it all.” and settling, comfortably, back into life without me?
And baby, believe me, I have tried to reach paradise since you have gone away, but every time I see the light and turn to say: ”We did it…” my voice ricochets: ”together… together… together…” on broken pieces of the life we made scattered around me, an echo in the thinning air, devoid of your, once, open ear, and is engulfed my the overwhelming loneliness I now feel even in a crowded mother fucking room…
And oh my friends are fooled, it’s amazing what a smile can hide, like the desolation, deprivation… I’m not breathing, I’m hyperventilating. Not moving, fuck no, I’m shaking, breaking down. Repeating to myself, to stay sane: ”The red washing into the drain cant change the color of the sea. This is not the end of everything,” with no progress in convincing myself at all. With no progress in killing my wish that you, despite all of the pain you’ve, seemingly without a care, infected me with, will remember my face and return, appear from the darkness as you did that first night when you took my breath away (and as you did from then on out) with just how much you cared to let me know how much you cared about me… And cared to know, too, about how much you meant to me then…
Do you care how much you still mean to me now?
I think a part of me has always been waiting for you, for the one that I would share a perfect love with… An all encompassing sensation that I could give faith to, even in the darkness, against the cliff side or blistering in fire… So what’s a while longer for you to find the light that once made your eyes fill with life to me? I could wait until trees, untouched, reached the peak of their height, or stars expired in a cataclysmic implosion if I knew even an ember, from the passion we nurtured, remained that could be risen in time or with enough patient and loving caresses, no matter how many wounds my contained desire would make on my soul.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted, was to see you smile, by my side or in the distance, waving goodbye. I think a part of me will always be waiting for you, for you, for you to simply smile…
But, boy, before you carry on, even if I am given no solace or explanation… Baby, before you leave and before you forget whatever it is you may please, if you are to remember only one thing of me then let it be not my voice or my touch or my smile, or the way we laughed, and cried and found wonder in the simplest things, like the way we’d tangle our legs in our sleep or the colors of each others eyes, but let it stay for the rest of your life, if even in some small, quiet place in the back of your mind, the knowledge that I have never before in my entire life known anything even close to as genuine, fulfilling and beautiful as the time I was blessed to have spent, with every single breath of mine you took and own forever, loving and being loved by you…
It’s flaws in our system such as the violence used against these peaceful civillians for simply using the freedom of speech that men and women have given their lives to enable us to have that is the poison in our society today. Whether or not a person agrees with the opinions voiced by these brave people is not even a factor in whether or not one should tolerate this brutality. There is no reason for the inhumane treatment of another human being.
I REPEAT: EVEN IF YOU DO NOT AGREE WITH THE PROTEST, YOU’RE A SICK FUCK IF YOU SUPPORT PHYSICAL HARM TO CIVILIANS.
The crimes committed by these authoritative figureheads far surpass those of the peaceful protesters and America was not founded on the idea that those with the wealth to do so should be allowed to purchase the ability to silence a nation to further enrich themselves and to hold greater leverage than the mass population in the affairs of the government of our country. We are entitled to a voice and we deserve to be heard, not punished for practicing that right.
Obama has stated himself that he supports the movement of the protesters and I believe something needs to be done about this overwhelming epidemic of violence against our own citizens… And if that means a compromise for the content of the occupation has to be made (“No occupying after 6pm and before 6am, no camping equipment, stay out of the streets, clean up after yourself etc etc.”) that would be a much better way to go about maintaining the peace. I find it terribly disheartening that there are veterans taking part of the movement who are being treated like criminals, sometimes worse, after first-handedly fighting for the rights that they are being (literally) beat down for using.
They’ve been using tear gas, flash grenades and rubber bullets on the unarmed and peaceful protesters. A veteran was critically injured by the violence of police. He was injured so badly to the skull that he lost the ability to speak and is currently in physical therapy treatment. Protesters who went into Bank of America to close their accounts were locked inside of the building and then arrested for the charge of “Trespassing”. Hundreds of people from multiple locations across the country have confessed that they were enlisted to plant paraphernalia on protesters so as to give police force an justifiable reason for their arrest.
Now, I don’t agree with the bitter folk who say all business men and all police men are corrupt, that simply isn’t true. But those in power who do not follow conduct and who do not have the basic sense of compassion to NOT cause physical (sometimes PERMANENT) harm to their own countries civilians should be dealt with as we would a common individual walking down the street beating, tazering, shooting projectiles at, or other wise using unwarranted violence against peaceful protesters: Criminals.
Even if someone doesn’t agree with the protests, it really shows something about their character if they agree with physically harming and stripping the rights from their fellow (unarmed and peaceful) U.S. citizens.
And for the “GET A JOB YOU FUCKING DRUGGIES / FAGGOTS / HIPSTERS / TERRORISTS!” people, yeah. You give me a nation that isn’t swarmed with unemployment, sky rocketing prices of education, and decreasing quality of said education and I’ll get right on that.
Go on and sit on your financial stability while people actually try to do something to expose and draw focus to the pressing matters in our government. Sorry to inconvenience you from your steak dinner with the joined hands and hearts of hopeful poverty-ridden revolutionaries.