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The Mourning AfterEach desperation has a unique identity
Mine speaks in gentle tones of hysteria
My mind is a city that never sleeps
Flicker shows and organ grinders play
through every hour I conceive
I slink down the street
like a thief in the night
If I walk long enough,
I can forget the ghosts of past lives
but they won't forget me
for I am one of them
Pale DawnHeat shimmers off the pavement
You know where the cars have been
for the trails of blood they leave behind
The stars await, breathless,
for dusk to unleash their light upon us
While you chase the sun into its set,
I'm racing the moon along the back roads
My sun shines after dark
in the glowing face of that old friend
ScatterbrainI know where my buttons are
all too well, I know what they do
Flying, soon to crash
I don't mind, I'll glide while it lasts
The wattage in my limbs is moving too fast
My brain fires signals in a rapid mix of lost translation
Each genuine smile, every hearty laugh
is duly noted and repeated in memory
I'm slowly putting stock in these things
for they are few and far between
InfluxThe patient curves of your skin
soften my sandpaper fingertips
I taste your dopamine
it releases my own
We stop the clocks
we fill every space
for the rest of time
The 'me' that believes in 'always'
well, he may breathe still
I think I felt his pulse
inside of you
my sweetest thing my wondrous creature my goddess
I won't rest until every inch of you responds
to my every touch
We can burn the midnight lamp
A Boy in the WoodsAt the end of an autumn eve,
he felt the warmest beauty
The trees whispered and moaned
as they were stripped bare
He built his glass house
with the deadwood of seasons past
The elements pass through, unhindered
but he is warmed by memory
Outside the door,
the high was all around him
On the inside,
he had to create it
WatershedAs I stare you down, I can see
that the lights are dimming
draining you into the pit of me
I see that you're drowning,
but you're too far out to reach
When my time to drown comes,
if you're still fighting,
I'll save you
CapacityMy memory is of music
Some songs help me remember,
others help me to forget
My thought is profound and transient,
fleeting and glimmering
These cognitions are difficult to capture
and impossible to master
A Split Second EncounterThe curves that form your silhouette
are deftly joined and slowly defined
I can sense your shape before I look in your direction
When I stare, it is an act of will
to tear my gorging eyes from your statued pose
The friction of the wind in your hair
drowns out every other sound
Your breath adds pressure to the atmosphere
and robs my lungs of oxygen
A slight shift in your position
reverberates through the earth beneath us
The Torturing DreamSoft... her skin. He knew it would be before he even knew her name.
Silent... the breath he can't catch after his gasp when she said 'Hello gorgeous. Let's go make some trouble.'
Soft... the sheets on the bed in a room he'd never seen, but was happy to be inhabiting.
Silent... the arch of her back and the tears on her face, oxytocin induced...
Hard... the concrete he sees when he awakes from the dream
Cold... the skin on his chest where she laid her head seconds before
Hard... the sound of him lighting a cigarette in the quiet room
Cold... his breath when he exhales the first drag of another day
BrokenThere's a broken girl that walks down my street
A broken girl I think everyone should meet
Her hair is a mess and her jeans are all torn
And the books that she carries are ragged and worn
She never really smiles cause she's ashamed of her teeth
And no one knows what she sounds like because she doesn't speak
She hides her plain brown eyes behind goggle looking glasses
But no one really cares or looks as she passes
She stays invisible until someone needs a laugh
Then she becomes the victim of every bodies wrath
They laugh til they cry and they all point her way
And smile and smirk for the rest of the day
Til she goes home at night to her drunken step dad
But at lest he's better then the last one she had
At night she reads love stories and writes a few poems
Wondering what it would be like to get out of that home
She dreams the same dream every night when she sleeps
That people will realize beauty isn't only skin deep
But until that day comes, she repeats the same thing
Staying off the ra
If I write you a songEveryone is talking
About how you want to make it big
That you want to be a Rockstar
That you've already booked a gig
You've always been so beautiful
But never content with who you are
Think you deserve to have the spotlight
And to be married to a Star
They say that you want someone
who'll sing for you in front of the whole world
Who'll dedicate you all his lyrics
Who will scream you were his girl
What if I wrote you a song?
will it change the way you look at me?
I wonder if it'd take me like long
Can I use this love to form the perfect melody?
Use the rhythm that you give my heart
A fast tempo like the way you make it beat
Turn these feeling into lyrics
That can make this song complete
I might never be a Rockstar
People will never know my name
But I promise you that no one
Can love you quite the same
I've never been good at singing
But I will scream this to the world
You will always hold the spotlight
If you decide to be my girl
Everyone is talking
That you want to be a star
writer's blockstranded on an island scantily
dressed in moonlight, you stare
at roiling water resembling a
horizon of interweaving words
but when you lift your right hand,
spirals of silence shackle
the weightless sounds
Nothing like the First LoveThere's nothing like the first love
And those early signs of bliss
Where heartache's still unheard of
And all you lust for is a kiss
When we're still so innocent and pure
Think with love, this world, we cure
But we're just so immature
Gave our hearts away without really being sure
There is nothing like the first love
No one could ever take their place
We may come across pure beauty
Only to find perfection in their face
And the thickness of their lips
Combine to form a perfect smile
Leave our hair standing on its tips
Nothing like the first love
Even if one day we grow apart
We will always keep the memories
And a special place for them inside our hearts
Missing YouSince I woke up today
I've been struggling to breathe.
Choking on your name
Asking you not to leave.
It happened again,
I saw you in my dream.
I'm still trying to catch my breath
Trying not to scream.
I need to wipe these tears
I need to blur your face.
Force this heart back into gear,
make it regain its normal pace.
So I'll go get my pills
And I'll bring out the liquor.
Keep on lying to myself
Saying "today I really don't miss her".
But I'm haunted.
Can't get you off my head.
I wish that I would die,
For you to be the one suffering instead.
Why did we fight that night?
How could I let you drive away?
If i knew that you'd been drinking
I should have forced you to stay
is the anniversary of your death.
I've been trying not to think of you,
But I'm crying, still short of breath.
I take out my wallet
Where I still hold your picture.
Wondering if I'll meet you soon
Thanks to this pill and liquor mixture.
But I feel nothing
I've been drinking this all morning
My heart still hasn'
43 minutes and 43 seconds agoForty three minutes and forty three seconds ago
The world was at peace, She came here and darkness sank in.
The monks started fighting, and the trees all turned grey.
The wind stopped it's motions and stopped the trees sway.
Her foot touched the ground and silenced the world.
children went missing and parents were torn.
Because forty three minutes ago, the world was at its norm.
Forty three seconds ago, we felt the cold turn warm.
Her voice like nails, on a chalkboard
Her eyes like lightning bolts
Her hair was alive
Her story untold.
She moved through the earth
Killing it's species
Not knowing where she came from
She made it look easy.
forty three minutes ago, I watched children playing
forty three seconds ago, I saw bodies laying
In stone, engraved on every male being....
They knew who she was...
Without even seeing,
Don't caveDon't Cave
When they tell you to jump,
stand firm with two feet on the ground.
When they try to knock you down,
stay standing and don't give in.
When you're on the ground,
jump back up, don't let them get you.
And when you're beaten, bloodied, and on your knees,
don't cave. They haven't won if your mind is your own.
The BulliedThe Bullied.
He never enjoyed going to school.
He used to bunk whenever he had the chance.
Although he was not one for breaking the rules.
He refused to submit to their ignorant demands.
He told his teachers about his problems.
How he got bullied every lunch and break time.
They said they would find a rapid way to solve them.
Somehow his confessions filtered through the grape vine.
The bullying became more intense and extreme.
He began wearing long sleeved t-shirts to hide the marks.
He knew his parents would only label him as a troubled teen.
But he yearned for their understanding and supportive remarks.
Eventually he tried talking to his dad about it.
But ironically he wasn't best known for his listening.
Besides his home was always too noisy and overcrowded.
He was sure that they wouldn't notice if he was to even go missing.
His only friends were online and on facebook.
Every night you could hear him typing away in his room.
His mother started to wonder how long this phase took
A Truly Hopeless RomanticOh, I can't wait to see you!
Oh, I love you, my dear!
When I'm with you I never feel sadness or fear
My passion is endless
My heart is so true
And all of these feelings are directed at you!
Your hair, soft as feathers
On some majestical bird.
Your lips are just beauty,
And I hang on your words.
Your mind enchants me
And you have love for all things.
With you, I can fly,
And you are my wings.
So, love, quite simply,
I can't wait 'till you're here
Or at least that's what I'd say
If you were real.
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More