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Wings of BeginningWords
Speechless echoes wading in the water.
Intensifying as the sounds growing louder.
Burning fire sparking the embers of creation
Relations and Contemplation
Every Step begins a Story
Every wound get's a medal.
Pain creates understanding
Knowledge supporting equal footing
Spread your wings and fly high.
All it takes is a cold north wind to grow.
Untold The beast dances with beauty of woman til she fainted away.
The Succubus painted her morality until her eyes bleed black.
Within the still of silence
The heaviest step from the littlest foot broke the foundation
Through out swirling mist between all the glowering eyes
A Glasgow grin shines between fractured light
Slow checimalsThe beat knocks my drums the blood like red rum runs.
This liquid euphoria with lyrical powress adoring ya.
Exploring ya with hands clapping of fine aristocrats
words like actors thespian in a play ninjas in the stealth attack.
Of course with abilities like this sacrifice isnt made.
Years of solitude and mute talk voice slowly croaking to normal
but hypnotic to the less likely sane.
Witch like hocus pocus magic with signature pheromones
just so you know who counter act attracted this
Always PresentSwagger against the minister
dressed red in blood
Deeply as sinister
Waving hands and showing wrists
bugs crawling for a kiss and writhing for the lift
striding slowly enjoying the wake
strolled across the path of bodies within the lake
jesus they act like they never saw refined evil on a nice day
saying hello to all the people
talking to all those less primeval
the looks of terror shivers down the spine
the tremors down mine fighting against the flow of time
This place in history
past present and future
will always be mine
Addict to PoisonThe drug digs deeper and claws within my skin.
Softly screaming and reeling me in.
I crave this sensation and her nails dig deep.
The liquid mercury seeping into drips.
The rubies collecting like a treasure trove on the floor.
Hypnotized by her hips but I cant look away from her eyes.
Drowning with those pools of snake like venom
She is the epitome of what I never hoped for.
Each mark along my back.
Etched like the number of days in the prison cell.
And it's like sweet black liquid dripping down my throat
when our lips dance.
The Sickening DoubtAs my heart shakes and quakes
My wretched grin grows and it aches.
It's been permantly plastered on my face
whether I smile or a I cry
Experincing sensations that make me want to just die.
I fail once and I failed them all
I fought for it all to lose at once
My fault for being so blunt and numb
After all the pain you put me through
When I cry and complain
My feelings are the one to be slain
Like some sub serviant obiedent dog
Just tie me to the log and leave me in the fog
When I cant even move after traveling for so long.
I try so hard not to bleed
But its a hard, The monster needs to feed
And its the creature in the earth destroying structures with in the mirth
Apathy and I get so dazed I cant sit
Just stand still and pray not to get sick
The battles Ive fought
Wars the body counts rises and for what?
false promises and praises
its like ive seen millions of faces
torn up and vomited up.
The heart or the lung
the leg or the arms the jaw or the feet.
You breath deeply..
And the flower blooms with life.
Drag the switch blade alone along the line.
You cannot feed her.
So she drowns in starvation.
Her lungs breaking down.
And your choking.
Your world's were never meant to collide.
Processing CreativityI cant hold the knife anymore.
My wrist refuses to heed what my arms yells.
The hand reaches towards the pen and paper.
Choking the utensil upon hours until ink spills over
and I roughly drag the ball point through the blank sheet
Staring at the horror I've committed
I want to vomit.
But I cant deny this lurking sensation that taking me over.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
Jhewardene IIMy lips grow red like the petals of the rose
It blooms for you.
See my eyes strong and hazed
The snow compliments and treats them,
I follow your tracks wildly through the glistening wonderland
But it's like a maze in this blizzard in May
Can my heart feel for you, I'll breathe for it.
Too feel your warmth through the winters touch,
i wander hoping i dont fall.
Frozen in place.
My hand hangs frozen in awe.
are you searching for me?
Can you see through it?
This snow fall?
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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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