huesOfEverything

“Hellfire awaits you” tiny naked women danced around her when she came back. And she laughed. As if the gods didn’t know that sensuality was part of her? She played around with her long hair still around her beautiful face. She looked at herself in the mirror, putting kajol on, rolling her tongue over her lips, seeing her soft thin lips getting wet and shining; she looked at the shape of her body, the round bulges, the subtle curve till her torso and her slim legs. Delighted in her voluptuousness, she laughed as a crackling sound mingled with her laugh. Astonished, she turned around to see an old hag of a man laughing. He w

The sensualists, the sadists, the broken the corrupted of the lot. Vagaries of nature and its cruel jokes on human mind. The disoriented eyes, the shameless behavior, devoid of inhibitions you walk huddled together you vermins of the world. There you can see her exposed bosom and the dark pink disgusting lipstick on chapped lips. She has returned like a ruffled bitch which has been with tens of dogs. The bulge under whatever is left of her dress is either going to be reduced to blood after an abortion or will soon materialize into another of those dead bastards. That man with disoriented eyes, touching himself in the middle of the road is an

The huge bugs crawled up on her ceiling. There were ugly grey hives all over her room. She'd repaint the hives bright yellow, she thought to herself while tiny droplets of slime kept falling upon her. She feared she'd get buried in the slime of those ugly bugs.  She couldn't weep, couldn't move; this usually happens when you develop a certain level of queer intimacy with your tormentors. Her long hair spread around her, with her beautiful face particularly still and her eyes fixed on the bugs, she lied there. She wanted to blink, her eyes were paining and she did; the poor dear. It could have been a moment or infinity she didn't realize, as i

Some women are only women by nature. Not wives, not mothers. Just women. And they delight in their womanhood.Reproduction to them is the death of their femininity. Why is it so unnatural to imagine that a woman abhors her child. She gets stuck in the menstrual cycle while she is still in her frock and plays with dolls. The little bastard is ever ready to come out if some child molester decides to fuck the little girl. There is always a chance. Now then when she turns into a beautiful teenager, she can't be promiscuous like her male counterpart. The small piece of crap straitjackets her sexuality. She has to suffer the intense pain of menstr

Die, will you, please? Can I kill you, please? for us both it is not a bliss but at least you will die leaving me alone craving for sun to scratch my ugly darkness till it turns to red the crimson red, the color of your blood on my knife or on yours, whatever you wish. But die, please. Pretty please with cherry on top.

Darling - thank you for all you have done. If ever in my bearing you encountered any bitterness, please know that it was all well-intentioned and out of my unchecked loving expectations of you. My dearest no day ever did or ever will fade away the tenderness and love that I feel towards you. Sweetheart you may not comprehend my love fully but know that as long as I am alive I have the longing to be safe in your arms. See my love, its hard when one has experienced completeness and then one has to let go of it. I can not explain fully but I know dearest that you'll understand it for have you not always understood me? :) My beloved, I have tho

Quietly does she ascend from the well with thousand snakes.. Naag devta follows her.. obsessed with her every move.. charmed by gaiety of her manners. She walks with her long brown hair trailing behind her on the coarse ground. She chuckles and her delicate voice chimes through the old deserted city. Femme fatale that she is, the people of the city told tales to young men of the countless unsuspecting victims of the enchantress, the snake-woman that resided in the well. She knew, she knew all, for those objects of immolation could not escape the Goddess. She knew and she laughed knowing nobody could combat the temptation. She didn't allure, t

overpowering sorrow... makes me scream and cry at times.. while i'm crying i hear weird sounds of creaking coming from inside me.. shattering and creaking and sounds of metals thrown on ground with full force.. or complaints of the old women in a vague shaky language.. I scare my reflection I am damned and I know I smell of roses though like a bride on the first night absorbs the smell of roses around her on the bed or a dead body covered with itr('pure' perfume) and rose petals... I scare my reflection.. I am damned and I know I smell of roses though...

My rapist told me the best bedtime stories. He told me tales of sadhus(mystics of India), their love for the supreme being, the spiritual journey that ends in salvation, the journey to discover impossible, to solve mysteries unknown. His hand would move down my spine and keep fidgeting on the hook of my bra and I'd innocently look at him thinking its to make me sleep. I'd put my head back on his shoulders lovingly and close my eyes. He'd kiss on my head slightly, and then my cheeks, my eyes, my nose(lol he called it nosy) and then my lips. He would keep telling me stories... He told me a story of a bookish stepdaughter of a sadistic army offi

Silently looking at the naked corpse beside the old sewage pit at the far end of the slums.. bruises at her rising-tomb like breasts.. the right breast has cigarette burn on the pink taut nipple ... once her bosoms must have been supple and beautiful... oh but they are still as beautiful... the charred patches just seem to adorn her private parts.. they add a teasing mystery to her otherwise bare brutally denuded body... she must have had put a lot of struggle... there still remain blood drained dregs of her clothes scattered around... she is around sixteen since the rest of her unscorched body is still supple with signs of youth that were ye