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Hermetic DreamsRain is falling, and I am alone.
Hermetic dreams float through my head
Like so many tiny fireflies
Lending their golden dreams
To what otherwise would be the blackest night.
What is one life, what is a thousand lives
Considering we all shall die.
Elixirs and potions, it seems,
Cannot cure the most definite of ends.
But everyone gets tired
We all must sleep.
And eventually the burdens of the world
Become too much.
Eventually, as the years pass
We accept death like an old friend-
Arms open wide,
And heart open even wider.
Dysphrenia, My DearDysphrenia, my dear.
Since when did you so closely become acquainted
With the shadow of my footfall
And the pause of my breath?
Since when did you invade me,
An unwanted lover,
Leeching my warmth and
Dysphrenia, don’t you know
How you make me ache,
And how you weigh down my hopes
Like a corpse weighs down the hanging post?
Ah, but you don’t care.
You never did.
I Wish I Was UniqueI wish I was unique.
But then again, I don't.
I could change,
But we both know I won't.
I have dreams
Bigger than the sun,
But how will they be achieved
When all I do is run?
Stop d i s a ss o c i a t i n g from your feelings,
Stop pretending like I'm strong enough -
Like I don't need you -
I do need you.
I don't know what to do with myself these days.
I have nothing at all, really.
No friends, no future -
You are my only glimmer of something better
(although, admittedly, this situation is of my own choice)
So don't you dare fucking say
That you're unneeded,
Or that you aren't good enough.
I've chosen you because you are
My idealistic partner -
Stop second guessing yourself,
Have some confidence.
I love you.
Tears filling her eyes.
"You know it'll be okay.
You know I love you."
"You love me today,
You love me now...
But what happens if
I start fading from your mind,
And the more time you spend with her
The more you realize how much
You love the way she laughs,
Or the way she smiles.
What if you start to realize that you
Didn't actually love me,
That you loved her all these years?
What if I become like the dust
On the bottom of your boots-
Forgotten and used?
I'm begging you, don't go,
Don't let me fade away."
The Keeper Intro"The world of men is fragile, easily broken. Let what happened here today be a reminder to all how very fragile each and every one of you are, and how easily broken the soul is."
The keeper stood on top of a platform overlooking the Great Square, nearly every citizen of the city of Aeroth staring up at his slim form. He smiled at his people, then turned to the two captives chained to the wall. Both raised their heads, two pairs of eyes meeting his gaze in defiance. "No." It was the female that spoke, a slim woman of maybe 30. The keeper glared at her, raising his staff menacingly. "Quiet!" He whispered something under his breath and gestured. Silver ropes wound themselves around the woman's mouth, her protestations coming out as only muffled grunts. "I see you have elected to die first. Very well. I shall let your companion watch you perish." The second captive glared, his slanted elven eyes burning through the Keeper. "It's a pity we had to bind your mouth, elf. I would have
Our Love Is a StormI love you like thunder.
Crashing through the atmosphere.
I am like a tree in the wind,
Guided by your breeze
Your mercy keeping me
Your passion is like lightning,
Bright, electric, inescapable-
Yet never unwanted;
Your beauty sets my world alight.
Our words are like the rain,
New, soft, torrential,
They drench us in dreams shared
And thoughts never ending.
I love you like thunder.
Our love is a storm
Our love is a storm.
A Book and TeaI'm used to not meaning much to anyone.
I'm used to being alone -
And really, I can't complain.
My solitary lifestyle suits my personality,
Observing, watching the world pass by,
Curled around my book and cup of tea -
Maybe a little judgmental,
Maybe a little sad.
But you know, it gets lonely.
I'm my own best friend, it's true-
But sometimes I want to call someone
And watch a movie, or just sit around
And do nothing in particular-
Just sharing air and experiences.
Then again, who am I kidding.
I'm not good at the friend thing.
So I shall continue with my book
And my cup of tea with tinges of judgement
Watching the rain dripping down the windows
With a smile and a sigh.
Here We RemainHere we remain,
A desecrated race surrounded
By the wreckage of our own making;
The child of our soiled choices
Bearing its stark and ugly face
To a desolate sky;
The world, once so innocent,
Now a twisted and disgusting remnant
Of wonders long forgotten,
Memories left only to a burnt photograph of a bird
And the reminders of a crumbled fountain.
A lifeA life
when i stimulated the prayers of rib-beat
when i licked the temple of my teeth,
speed pushed my fingers shaped like confessionals
clasped holy, carved my throat to fixing-
lover; i did this for the anthem of your eyes,
the feel of strangled feet crushing the fame of stars
for the glow of streetlight worship, for the moons
of your crooning throat, for the halls of your arms,
the strayed revels of your arms,
lover: you manufactured a god out of the drugs i used
and had me addicted to the divine, to the dignity of music
you pressed in my direction: just what i am, hallelujah,
marijuana, day and night-
lover, i fell in love with your culture
that preached the real definition of dusked kneecaps,
the plea of closeted throats, the whisper of bless,
unlearning how to say please god in borrowed tongue,
i fell in love with your attention, nervous grace
lover. i levied the rubble of my sins
Synesthesia - III have learned not to say
when your voice burns under my tongue -
learned not to shiver
at the cold of sirens on the street -
learned not to describe
the pricks and strokes and touches.
I have learned that skin cannot hear,
nor ears feel
(whichever it is).
How strange to think:
I may travel all my life
and never find a lover who can hold my laugh in his palms.
Even The City KnowsIs it at all easy?
Being by yourself, I mean.
Sitting in a car, on a train, on a bus--wherever you might be now, isn't it hard to be a drifter?
There are no men with newspapers, no women with strollers, no love-crazy teenagers, no annoying toddlers, no anybody.
You stare out the window, like there are people out there, calling your name. The trees are out there, and they've lost all their leaves, all their buds--they've lost everything, just like you.
The sky is out there, and it's gray and colorless, just like you.
The stars are out there, and they're so blown-out-of-proportion, and they're just like you, too.
But the trees, the skies, the stars, they're used to being left alone.
You lack the ebullience of your drink, but it, too, is fading.
Frost has gathered on windows, on the ground, on rivers, everywhere.
Frost comes and goes, just like you, when you finally melt away.
The city draws to darkness and quiet--it disappears, just like you.
But, even frost
the tattoo artist.she finds gems hidden underneath my skin and
rips them out with her teeth, the sores
along my arms swelling with pride and red; never
has she wondered if the pain would make me
grit my teeth into powder—no, she knows
i take it like a man takes steak:
raw and tough and bloody, like my fingers
after picking scabs to let some fresh air in; her
words are etched on the point of a needle, and she
is a tattoo artist drilling ink into my body, her lines
thick with moxie: "alive" splayed out across
my wrist, "awake" above my heart—she paints
a vision on my eyelids of an endless sky and
tells me it doesn't belong to me, but that i
can have it; perhaps foolishly,
i believe her every word
Where my corpse is foundAs I lay here,
On the guest room's bed,
My grandmother exchanges the oxygen
for the delectable scents of cinnamon, sugar, candy.
She does this through the magic of baking
Gingerbread Men, Gingerbread Houses, Yule logs, Candy Canes.
While I smell my cruel ex-boyfriend's suffocating tangy cologne.
I hear the laughter of people outside the streets.
Their loud, cheerful voices show the huge smiles on their frost bitten faces.
While my ears hear the bitter melody of arguments.
My parents' failure to stay together as promised in a holy place
caused my lovely imprisonment here at my sweet grandparents' house.
Through the slight opening of my door and through the windows,
Color penetrates the Darkness I have worked hard to create.
One usually embraces the Illuminating Decorations.
While I lie down here to reminisce my friends
Who are Traitors;
Proof of their conniving betrayal was the broken art project
of A Christmas Star
sitting alone on the floor.
People at this time feel w
An apologythere are books of memory
I scribbled in them with crayon and
seeped flowers into their spines when I was young.
Tearing the edges, I filled it with my life.
Now my hands shake.
Muscle slipping, dead ink spilling
marking my veins like
sin soaks the soul.
with so many lost lines
you would never find,
the first fresh stroke of its creator
or, the final sigh of the full stop
exhaling the memory
that it once was something-
a blank page,
a fresh breeze cooling you,
wrapping her hands around your neck.
And me, telling her secrets until
it overruns her with inky sickness.
Among my loves I still beg mercy
while carving my suffering.
My pen ripping into where my voice and hands
were never brave.
Tearing into pages of all things
like the dress of a lover.
If I could, I would leave a note, saying:
Forgive my words that cut you,
I only do it so I can live
with the poison inside.
LinesReflections in the water
Faceing my time
The wrinkles in my skin
Telling the story of my life
There are lines for the tears
In the flesh below my eyes
Lines for the laughs
Playing delicately around my mouth
Lines for the anger
In my forhead
Lines for the pain
On my brow
Lines for the care
On my hands
Lines of the sun
On my shoulders
They may be ugly
These lines of mine
But still I love them
They tell my life
LithiumA single trickling rain drop
Like gossamer silk strands
Gliding along my third eye
Whispers wind's secret caress
I exhale. Lungs releasing-
Pressing translucent memories;
Fragment of a fragment
As water kisses rose petal,
Drifting down stream's curtain
Pretty little curtain.
Where the wizard lies.
He smiles up at me
With his monocled brow-
Sipping on warm tea
And fingers quacking casually
To the rhythm of his notes
This is a safe-zone. Free-zone.
Innocent eyes sparkle,
Imploring it to be true. I breathe.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More