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Daunted ReverieI grab the sheets and feel with fingertips
A chilled fabric, testament of
life without you
This quiet sleep without dreams
While the night still holds bright stars
And I gaze out the window wondering
if you ever will exist
Where I can hold you close and
A chiding laugh and I close my eyes
There is a whole lot of sky between
you and I
Which to a dreamer is not so daunting
But my wings are papier-mâché
Tearing in the collected rain of
this brutal reality
In which I can only close my eyes
In RememberanceIn Remembrance
Therein lies this emptiness
That simply wades through veins, festering
And spreading to every inch of the body
Where no one can see but choose to
And I long for the words to find
A way to simply scrape the surface
But they disintegrate before exposure
To a mind so consumed and devastatingly
Vacant where we were meant to spark
And create this growing life
To bring to a world where most want to sweep
Embarrassments and difficulties under
No meter or rhyme can clean it up
When something is indescribable
As the flickering elephant in the room
But even still my smile is sewn, my lips
All I know is the patience for inevitability
Because the world is temporary and
To drop anchor here is suicide for those
Who cannot swim amidst valueless waves of
But as the minute hand skitters the time steps
And I feel it slip into an abyss of abstractions
The world stands still for a split millennia of
Falling tears and stilled breath as I feel you for a
Within the Drum Within the Drum
The copper crept from within, a slow oozing trail staining its way. The notion that something wasn't quite right startled her awake. It was dark out still and she felt it weighing her down, a claustrophobic blanket of restriction. She reached up with soft fingertips, confused to graze a sticky path up her neck. The rough trail on her skin introduced a precipice of acceptance and the recollection of the doctor's warning. A lightning bolt hit and jolted her body out of its sleeping fold and into a tense knot. Turning her head slowly she waited for the next strike as the rockets burst in her head.
A Teaspoon For DrowningI visit many deviant profiles for writers and think to myself, "That could be me. They are so put together. Their writing just screams I AM ME! So little words, so many emotions. Truly beautiful and wonderful in a sparkly blender of Hellz yes!"
Fuck. Testing testing .where is your voice?
Not over here.
Venom Veracity Venom Veracity
I drink a cup of coffee, the aroma of a sigh enveloped by my skin. A tranquil moment. Pensive.
Perhaps if I had known that he would drag her away by the wrists, I might have skittered along the time steps. Avoiding the sparkling stars, their sharp edges never to slice her forearms. The crimson congealing to my skin, so chafed. Bleeding rubies.
Some secrets scuttle into the cracks. And words cannot survive the violence of the mutilation. The clenched jaw, starving screams. I carried the naïveté of her in a pen, ebony splashes dancing. When the water refuted the stars, she lost balance. Catch her.
Held in splintered animosity, the grin of victory scal
The AshesNo one can touch us anymore. You must have not known or else you would be here with me. Right?
Our world is burning
The song is beautiful. It reaches out and grasps my dying fingers. Like a Polaroid, the emotions slowly come into focus, colors and details getting more and more brilliant
I begin to cry. How do I show you? My words have died and they are decaying within me. My tears are ink, and they drop to the burning world, stained and unrecognizable to any who cared to take a look. If I had been able to show you, would then you have stayed for me?
I screamed, the sky r i p p l e d
You didnt notice. You have forgotten how to look up.
You just never cared like I always did
Listening, watching, waiting
Dawns PreludeRetreat is quiet and swift. I sit up, soft sheets falling around my hips as I blink blue depths, ever staring in the distance. Like the sparklers' story, it is fading before my eyes with sparks dying, though I saw its brilliance but moments ago. Stumbling out of bed in a daze, I try to grasp hold of Times retreating veil. He is too fast for me.
I must find the pieces of my dream. Each spark of it slipped out of consciousness and between the cracks of reality in mere seconds. Tearing at the earth, I stretch and reach, longing to skim the tips of my fingers along their rippling frames. The ritual of it all consumes my waking moments.
But before I know it, the sun spins her dance among the clouds, finally taking her bow into the horizon. She retreats into the waking realm as the stars take their cue. They open the gates and the obsidian waters cascade over the sky, trickling onto my world. I look to the ground again, my dream faintly glowing as sparks crackle and leap in
Requiem A muted landscape sits beneath the dark heavens. You step upon it, a scream sewn into your lips. The thread burns.
You are running, but why? For what is it that you seek? What do you hope to accomplish?
But you cannot answer these questions can you? You were the one that took the needle to your lips.
The moon is solid, unmoving. You thank God it has ceased its descent of drowning in the water. Perhaps then you can catch up. The wind stumbles alongside you, losing strength, a frightening thought. Why are you running?
If only your skin would slide off and let you fly. But you are contained, restricted: a mirror to yesterday. Now there is no time. She suffocated whilst fate outlined her neck in gnarled fingers. Dont watch, just run.
Denial is simply the façade of reality who ba
The WeakeningGrief of gray, the silent trespasser
Descends with splintered wings
Their beat a rhythmic epidemic
A scratching within my being
Once impassioned with yearning
The framework for our own lives
As we tread somewhere in the middle
Between the seasons evolving intellect
Now all is the mask of Façade
Through these drowning eyes
As desire and beauty diminish
Cutting oxygen of the souls language
Loss amidst the tranquil second
While the lifeless gray scars within
Severing lifelines to my passions
Oh sorrow, if I only
The SpongeBob SquarePants Bootleg Episode
The following is a recording of a suicide note audio tape:
It's just a cartoon, they said. It's just a 2D drawing moving on screen, it can't harm you. Boy, they were wrong.
You might be wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, let me tell you quickly, since I just want to get this over with.
It happen a few weeks ago with my friends; *****, ******, ******, and **** (These bleeps here are the name of the person's friends. He, himself, who wrote this, has his own name censored due to legal reasons, the only thing we can tell you is that there were four males and one female) We were on an urban exploration – well, not an official one. We were into those things called “Lost Episodes” which were allegedly episodes from popular children cartoons that were either never aired or completely banned. Take the example: 'The Ren & Stimpy Show' which ironically does hav
Creepypasta: Future TenseCreepypasta: Future Tense
I knew something was wrong from the moment I woke up, namely that I was still dreaming. I had to be. There wasn’t any other explanation for the spectacle that awaited my dazed eyes. An abnormally lucid dream to be sure, and I’d never had a lucid dream before but I was at least familiar with the concept. Everything seemed to be flawlessly material and factual, from the flickering red numbers on my digital clock-radio to the individual fibers of my cotton sheets.
But back on topic, you’re probably curious as to what I saw. First I’ll need to briefly acquaint you with the layout of my room. There’s a rather sizable full-length mirror positioned in a straight line across from my bed. Now, in addition to seeing the room itself reflected in the mirror, there was a most unexpected fellow dwelling within the mirror itself. I say “within the mirror” because he was only present as a reflection, facing outwards in a manner that s
Creepypasta: A Household of Four Plus OneCreepypasta: A Household of Four Plus One
“Well, isn’t this a mystery?” June Peterson asked aloud.
The question was entirely rhetorical. June was the only one of the Peterson household who was home at the moment. Alex and Stephanie were off at school and her husband was off on a corporate retreat. But this was more than a bit puzzling. A pair of well-worn men’s shoes which weren’t her husbands, and obviously weren’t hers or the kids, lay discarded in the front hallway. Normally she would have assumed one of her husband’s friends had left them behind by mistake, but he had been out of town for a full three days as of today.
June knelt down and picked up the shoes before examining them. They certainly had seen better days. As she was on her way back to the living room, she noticed something even more abnormal. The door to the crawlspace under the stairs was ajar. When they had first moved into the house it had appeared to be permanently wedged sh
Creepypasta: You Are What You EatCreepypasta: You Are What You Eat
September 14th, 2014
Sleep. I miss sleep more than anything else. You don’t completely understand how much of a necessity it is until you’re reduced to no more than three hours of it each night, I suppose. But I should feel lucky that I can sleep at all. Their screaming keeps much of the staff awake for far longer than I often am.
We still don’t know why they’re always screaming, and may God damn the man who thought to engineer the things with vocal chords. Whoever decided it could possibly be a useful idea to give carnivorous plant-things the ability to vocalize their thoughts was clearly insane. And coming from me that means something. Takes insanity to recognize insanity and all that.
Anyhow, back on topic. The point of all this of course is to see whether a plant with enough specialized cells would be capable of a life similar to one of the lower orders of primates. Because a plant can support nothing similar to a
Creepypasta: How Blessed to be BlindCreepypasta: How Blessed to be Blind
Is there ever any wonder why we look to the sky?
Search in vain?
Where is God?
We don’t know
We fall in space
We can't look down
Death may come
Peace I have found
What to say?
Am I alive,
Am I asleep?
Or have I died?
- KoRn, “Hollow Life”
Parker Jameson didn’t know quite what to make of all this. He seemed to be floating in a never-ending ocean of black flame, all of humanity suspended there with him. Curiously, the umbral inferno left his flesh and clothing intact, and yet Parker could feel it burning at a more base level, searing into his very soul. Wherever the flames danced they would leave behind scorch marks in his mind in the shape of dead gods with unblinking eyes.
He vaguely recalled a life before this one, and seemed to remember that there had been a world before the oceans of black fire. But it all seemed so
Creepypasta: Without a PaddleCreepypasta: Without a Paddle
Lukas Brown was starting to become suspicious, meaning that he was almost beginning to speculate if he should have accepted this unusual solicitation at all. He scarcely knew his neighbour Gray Ridley at all, despite the fact he lived directly next door to him. What the hell could he have possibly been thinking, accepting an invite to a mountain cabin that hadn’t even been aware Gray owned until now? And on top of which, Gray had been behaving downright inexplicably starting from the time when Arranson Carmen had disappeared. Gray had always seemed a bit sullen, but forget out-of-character, he’d been positively walking on air since then! Gray had been chatty and animated the entire drive up to the cabin. His behaviour was categorically un-Gray-like.
As Lukas crawled out of the guest bedroom’s cot he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Lukas reminded himself that just because Gray’s mood had upgraded to a normal level in such a bri
Halfassed Micropasta ( Lost mind) Do you ever wake up thinking it was a Tuesday only to be informed it was actually a Thursday with no recognition of the past days? Just little fragments of memories or so you think those are memories of this week. Everyone else just acts normal. Filling you in trying to convince you that you just had a little mind trip and that it really was Thursday, naturally this isn't a big deal since it doesn't affect you. Every day is fairly similar. Part of a schedule you follow.
Do you ever arrive home and take a nice break to release of the struggles you've had this morning? But wait, when your friend, parents, or even co-workers asks you about your day so far did you struggle to remember what did happen? Did you draw a blank?
These are all just little mistakes in our dear program which you unquestionably live by. Glitches in your life we string together into your mind.
Fantasy Films Adventures - Red Waters (3)
Throughout the remainder of the day, the trio ventured into fishing stores and boat sales lots. The afternoon turned to evening and after they completed their purchase, Palladon accompanied Alex and Vitaly to a local bar for some cold root beer. As they drank up, a crusty old sea-dog who had been sitting on a stool next to them took notice.
“Not every day a lion, a tiger and a panther walk into a bar,” he said in an old raspy voice. “It’s a crazy world we’re living in.”
“Tell us about it,” Alex responded. “One day we’re running a circus, and the next we’re hunting for a shark.”
“Shark hunting, eh? What kind of a shark?”
“I suspect it’s a great white, “ Palladon responded. “Sea lion is a favorite meal among adult whites, and the shark went after Stefano like house flies on rotten leftovers.”
“Why would a shark be in waters around here anyw
Blackened I remember the world’s reaction when the new land arose from the pounding waters of the sea, a small island barely half the size of New Zealand suddenly appeared in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The island was covered in tall, leafy trees and large, rocky mountains. At first the world was in a mixture of excitement and curiosity, wondering what new adventures the new land held and how it just managed to appear almost overnight with nobody noticing. First there was simply water, and then it was there, land breaking through the water and lying there as if that had been its resting place since Pangaea. Scientists were baffled. Some called it impossible while others searched for a logical explanation to how it came to be.
America was the first nation to send explorers to survey the new land. The explorers had cameras that began filming them as they first stepped foot onto the island, and the cameras sent live footage around the world
My Dearest BetrayalMy Dearest Betrayal,
Along your spine I zip open your flesh, peeling it back from the muscle and bone. Breathing heavily upon your utter nakedness, I watch the uncontrollable quivering as my poisoning breath scalds as dry ice.
A screaming monster claws its way up your throat, tattered shreds of your gullet are left in its wake. Flailing in the putrid fumes of agony, your yellow eyes search. But there is nobody there for you anymore. A sea of writhing bodies bump and flop against your own, unaware. Encapsulating screams have carved themselves into your irises as the selfish world turns topsy-turvy like a drunkard consumed in his own self pity.
The hair stands on the back of your sweating neck. As the claustrophobic drowning dissipates, a frost crawls to the ends of the earth congealing the flow of your veins. Solitude is now the scumm
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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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