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Bopping my head to the beat.
Allowing rest for my anxious feet.
The hip hop sings to me in a trance.
I feel my thoughts begin to dance.
Leaning deep into the pain.
Embracing all I have to gain.
The needle reminds me just to breath.
My dreams have finally started a weave.
The session must come to an end.
I yearn for more time to spend.
My head space sparks with much desire.
My body burns with passionate fire.
I will return emboldened with pleasure,
A telltale sign for bodily measure.
Experience only enriches my senses,
A thing that pain only condenses.
Every time I see a generic, meaningless, forgettable tattoo, I wish for a razor blade to cut the tattoo out of the person's skin, and a lighter to ignite it.
My sister just got her first tattoo.
When I told her it was boring and generic, she said "but the o is a heart!"
So now she'll forever carry the word love on her wrist, and the memory of being tattooed in a bedroom by a seventeen year old asshole.
I rather like tattoos. To me, the idea of giving yourself something that will last as a gift or a commemoration to an event is utterly appealing. My personal plan for tattoos is rather natural.... to say the least. For some reason, the allure to the more aesthetically pleasing ones tends to draw me in further and further until I realize, "Shit... I've been staring at his sleeves for ten minutes."
One of my darlings and I are going to be getting tattoos in about a week together.... yey friendship
at some misguided point in our lives, he and i decided that we were going to get matching tattoos of the trifoce from legends of zelda. we broke up long before we ever got a chance to do this.
a couple years later i found myself in a tattoo shop with time and money to burn. i got a tattoo of the triforce from legends of zelda.
i still want, so badly, to show him. i wonder if he ever thinks of me when he walks into that tattoo shop.
strangely, it's not too painful to look at. it reminds me of him, but more so of the good times i've had without him.
i still want to show him. i think it would make him jealous.
The girl who sits in front of me in my history class has a huge tattoo of a peacock on her back with tail feathers that snake seductively all the way down to her hips. It is intricately detailed and vibrantly colored - it reminds me of an ancient oriental painting.
On the first day of class she wore a very low-cut top so I saw most of it, and then later found a photograph of her online showing off the whole tattoo.
Most days though, she's less revealing. I voyeuristically stare at her back instead of listening to the lectures, wating for just a glimpse as the bird peeks out from under her shirt when she moves.