@UndeadDream's (One man's succubus) most faved Tweets...
"Here, use this," she said, extracting a razor from her left ventricle. "I always keep it there to prevent other pain from moving in."
When the hamster became self-aware, he was instantly depressed. He would have to leave the security of his cage to run without the wheel.
I prefer the view from the balcony. The closer you are to the stage, the easier it is to mistakenly think you're part of the performance.
She was on sabbatical. One year off from life. She made origami boats from hand-crafted papers to see which would carry her the farthest.
It's dark in this hole. Pitch black. But I'd rather remain hidden than be lost among the sheep. I can see better than those covered in wool.
15
I carved your name so deep within my bones, my heart is bursting with the shards and splinters. Every heartbeat is bittersweet.
14
"This'll only hurt a bit," she said,as she carved out a piece of his heart in the shape she needed to complete her own."Just let it go numb"
13
It happened so fast the images came out blurry. Yet somehow the effigies were clearer in the haze than in life's technicolor drama.
13
One of life's cruel ironies is when there is no extension cord long enough for your heart to reach it's power source.
13
I left my heart in the tip jar.It only has value when given away.No one had earned it.They only sliced it open hoping to find the treasure.
12
She flung her heart into the ravenous gorge. The only remaining shard preserved in a faux-stone locket, strung tightly around her neck.
12
Standing on the crooked wooden slats of the balcony, I watched as old memories ran through the cracks, grasping at the sand with my fingers.
12
Wake up covered in ash. Flakes of dreams burned away by the morning sun. I stay buried in the ash. Respite from the pain of open eyes.
11
She threw her head back and tried to kiss the sky. Cloud-like tendrils whipped around her wrists. Gravity's fickle. She hit the dirt hard.
11
Every time my heart sheds its skin, I collect the remnants and press them between the pages of your book. The one that's not yet written.
11
The heady scent of salty leather intoxicates.I pluck the charcoal petals from my face and mix them in the sawdust. Another jukebox prophecy.
10
This heart. Locked behind a door that has no key. When I die, you can carve it out. Wrap it in cobweb lace. Your funny valentine.
10
I cry myself to sleep and lay in the pool of acid tears, attempting to tranform my flesh and awaken a naked being.
10
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