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Dominance in Despair: Chapter 4Chapter 4: Breakdown
Marge blinked as she opened her eyes. She glanced at her alarm clock. 6 PM. She sat up, shaking her head, her beehive waving like a ship's mast in a stormy sea. "Must have drifted off..." She remembered lying down in her bed to collect her thoughts, at some point she must have fallen asleep.
Standing up, Marge felt the fabric of her dress with her hands. Feeling a little dirty from sleeping in her clothes, Marge winced a little and opened her closet. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her green dress and let it fall to the floor.
The setting sun cast slanted rays of light across her silhouette through her drawn blinds as she leafed through her selection, settling on a white t-shirt and blue work out shorts. Selecting a plain white bra from her underwear drawer, Marge sat on the edge of her bed. Laying back and stretching a little, feeling the comforter crawl against her back, she sighed a little happily from the feeling of the warm rays of the sun splashing across h
Pain is Pink Ch. 1Ch 1: sweet apple acres: 12:00 p.m.
Applejack was laying on her front porch at her home sweet home, Sweet apple acres. She was waiting for her friend, Pinkie Pie to come over so they could hang out. It was going to be an interesting whether Pinkie had decided to act like herself today but even if not it would still be interesting. Pinkie had not been the shiniest apple of the crop the past week. She was usually a very bubbly, fun-loving pony. 'Pinkie should be feelin' better by today.' Applejack thought to herself. She then looked up from her hopeful thought to find that her theory was incorrect. There was a cringing pink party pony hunched over with her mane flat as the ground she stood on. Applejack was disheartened by this melancholy scene before her eyes. She had never seen Pinkie this depressed before. Not even when she thought her friends were plotting against her so they didn't have to go to her parties.
"Oh howdy Pinkie Pie, how ya doin' this fine morning?" Applejack inquired.
hey newton, gravity's flawedi.
starting anew from the flutter
and the sputter of lungs.
a vacant sea filled with feathers
and tumultuous clatter,
ribs in a treacherous pattern
resembling exiting rungs.
i want to wrestle the angels,
your tendency is the ladder.
involved with full indiscretion,
trading lazy for lace.
unspool the curse of the long-
limbs in a languorous flexion
i like the stab of the ankles,
you need the curves intersected.
opting to cull my extents
with trans-dimensional vigor.
spent my dysphoric corrections
on reconnecting lax ends.
lips in a spurious accent
feign a passionate rigor.
i tie myself to the anchor,
you extricate and ascend.
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