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Love tainted from bileThe shivering grip of emotional death hovers above me
Icy breath, Cold steel, Frosted blood:
A vile taste rages among the bittersweet memories of your breath
The soft caress of wind wakens my memories of your fragrant skin
Your portrait is a plague to my mind, destroying the innocence and kindness
I hear the boiling waters, and fearful drought of your self proclaimed serenity
Spoiled meat, in an angered heat, details the wrathful smell of your vampiric feast.
A budding rose of hate, anger, sorrow, betrayal, and tears
You caused me pain, but yet you survive with ignorance to your sins.
You claim righteousness, yet your heart perceives a luminescent black.
You say your intentions are childish innocence, but deceit curdles all.
You're nothing better than the ooze you persecute;
Oh, Watcher of Woe, rain down your mercy on me.
Sometimes...Sometimes life can get you down.
Sometimes your heart can tell you lies.
Sometimes situations can make your head spin around,
and other times, your mind is sent to the flies.
But Sometimes, that one person who seems to always be at your side is no where to be found
And life will get you down, your heart will tell you lies, and your head will spin around.
But always remember, sometimes that someone has you on their mind. <3
The Unmistakable HateIt roars
It lives within me
A crimson ball of fury. Of Hate.
It springs up inside me like a freshly tapped Oil well at the mention of your name
The animosity. The chaotic feelings. The Mad-man inside me screams when I think of the pain
The Pain you dragged me through.
I never wanted this; I gave you my heart and you ate it like lamb, fresh from the slaughter. Innocent and pure, with not a regret. Not a single bit of distaste. No bitter thought, word or taste had ever caressed my nerves. You're a monster. Not human.
You turned my kindness into a teatime croissant. You turned my love into a tea, which you'd let slide down your lips in a lust for flesh
You're no queen.
You're no Lover.
You're no Angel.
You're the epitome of everything I hate.
Your best friend is the chains around my hands and feet, which binds me from harming you.
Do you think you're special? Do you think you're mighty? Just because this hate bottles up because of you?
You're a plague.
Queen RegnantAs you embroidered autumn
into my bones, I heard the
trees giggle to themselves:
"We're going to make all
the leaves change color,
pin them along the sidewalk
for you to follow and we'll
wreathe them in your hair.
You will be our daughter."
You folded apples into my smile,
making it crisp, but sweet. I
took the time to thank you by
shrugging off my sweater and
giving it to you. A daughter
of the trees, braided with their
leaves, needs no protection
from the elements that embrace her.
"Your leaf diadem suits you,
daughter," they say as
their branches weave between
gusts of wind. For once,
I believe them.
beneath the harvest(ed)
in pleasing arrangements-
to be laid
upon the flowerbed
Mother NatureThere is a soul,
That seems to flow,
Beneath the gold,
Of the suns glow.
It flows within,
It floats within,
You feel its breath,
In the wind,
You feel its death,
With every sin.
It does not think,
It does not hate,
It only loves,
It doesn’t berate.
And her breath,
We have a peaceful death
Cigarettes and AutumnsAll these cigarettes and autumns are piling up
on me. Dead leaf at dusk from a
hoary apple tree.
Eden's falling with each
tick of the tock, measured by periodic
fingers counting down an imaginary clock.
I can nearly see the golden leaves
dancing on the breeze while the
incense smell of burning fronds
waft tenaciously through the trees.
It's a good time to be alive.
Soon enough the frost on the window's
going to hide the impending
autumn happening outside.
So presently I'm exhaling stale smoke
on the window, lamenting summer's
passing with a clear view
of each hue of a burning bush,
of each push towards doom
already intent on being reborn.
Fascinated by the symmetry.
Fascinated by the symmetry.
SeptemberThe page hasn't turned
The sun tilts on the edge
Before it falls
You have caught it already
Trees with a hesitant shudder
Shake leaves that aren't ready to die
The breath passes
But when you look up
The clouds are pulling back
They have smelled it
They are leaving the thick air
Near the ground
To escape it
But you have to stay
And when you feel it again
There will be frost
awake and alivedayworm ouroboros stuck
in the raven's throat
gets shorter in chunks
swallowed with a guttural clutter
of polished solarplates crashing down
the house on blackberry hill
rewires its shadow
block by block everyday.
a world emerges in the backyard
it is frothing & foaming
with the vividness of a mucous membrane.
the birds in the bushes burp out
milky kisses at each other
but the outcast eats the days.
someone says that the contrast
that the smell of burnt rubber
MythsGentle glens and shores
The waters quiver in silence
Beneath this film of azure glass
A different tale is told
The few that thrive below
A monarchy in the deep
Eyes aglow from the abyss
Terror stretched for miles
The stories told to children
To keep them all afloat
But soon, these will come ashore
Their breath runs thin, alas
Footsteps in the sand
Myths arise to conquer.
Autumn Fire (Change of Season) I feel the change of season
this autumn fire
the nights getting longer
the impending darkness
this cold breath down my neck.
But I am aflame and
burning with passsion
to a degree that it
almost consumes me.
Memories and dreams
the future and the past
they are merging
in a round-dance of autumn leaves
in the yellow light of street lamps
or in the dim grayness of
one drizzly September day.
I am day dreaming
and the world around me becomes
like the surface of a pond
into which I dip my finger
and suddenly the whole picture
starts to ripple and disperse
and the voices of people talking to me are muted
and I hear something else.
The veil is thinni
Winter's BloodSnow falls like blood trickling down
until it reaches the ground
Winter's Blood isn't red
It doesn't symbolize pain
but it shows strength
"Another year we have endured"
said the four seasons
"And you should be rewarded"
praised Winter, in all her glory
"I'll give up my blood, and offer up another year"
"Another year for joy. For Sorrow. For Anger..."
The Four Seasons drank the blood in unison and formed the icy bond
That lays upon the world by night
The Four Seasons
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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