Right click, create.

… and so there was the cube. the sphere. Omg, the torus.

And when you get enough free time, you eventually become a furniture builder. Well, I did. Not to give up the party scene, but this really tickles my brain. And heck, we all need to fill out pretty lil’ prim houses with something, right?
I’m a sculpty addict. And a texture addict. Commited to sell everything  just a lil’ bit cheaper than the rest. Wanna check it out? Follow the link
Want something costumized? IM me in-world.

So there ya go, my first non-emo-non-poetic commecial post. yay!
Lub and smooches, Mafy.

how virtual bricks fall apart.

Q: What are you doing?

A: Sitting, watching home disappear. (and it breaks my heart)

 

 

 

 

#Ironic 13.

Twist.

“Pull blinds, shut eyes”. Let’s just lay here really still and talk in silence,
words are whispers and unfishined thoughts smothered in pillows and sweet nothings.
Stay quiet, stay near, stay crystal clear. Quoting songs seems easier, they sound so much better than I do.
I’ll send you notes in shapes of melodies and mean every single note.
Do you remember what’s yet to come?
Pull blinds, shut eyes…if we could close them and know by touch what’s laying there beside us (an ode to warmth, safety and the smell of your skin on mine)
Let’s just lay here really still and share the air we breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

#12.

Something.

Something about the way you spell out words and how they brush against my face like butterfly kisses, I don’t know. Twirling lashes on soft skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

#11.

Word count: 22.

It’s all it takes.

 (mock me if you want to), but I gave in to clichés. And all I want for christmas, is you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#10.

Bloodbaths, dumb…asses, and stuffs.

For today, I wanna escape the routine. Yanno what? screw my feelings! Today is about friendship. And good times. And… well yeah, blood. Mwuahahahahahahahahaha….

When *good* girls are left alone at Hotel Dare….

… Vengeance is bound to happen.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Love mah girls!!!! <3

 

#9.

Butterflies.

Butterflies twirling in my stomach, whispering lover’s secrets and smothered moans, spreading scents of hope and smiles. Little folded notes, ink smudged hearts covering young girls’ laughs.
Bite my lip and draw some blood, now. Bite my heart and make me cry.
- so baby, what about now?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#8.