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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
FuzzballYou stumble into the darkness of your home after a horrid day at work, grateful to feel your cat's tongue slobbering over your hand affectionately. Then you remember that you don't have a cat.
Faery CirclesI watch the modern world pass me by, stretching bark-hardened arms--broken at the elbows, ligaments torn, fingers splayed in all directions--in a balmy breeze. Centuries ago, I stumbled into a faery circle; I wonder how many lost souls, like me, are still screaming.
I Was Broken
I was once broken. I was shattered, hurt, sad, and angered. My tears were running down my cheeks like minute waterfalls. My heart was ripped out, and torn apart.
But then the voices came. They came from the darkness and told me everything would be alright. They told me that I would get my revenge. That I would not feel this way anymore.
All I had to do was give in to the sadness and hate, and give my broken spirit to the darkness.
I was broken, but now the darkness holds me together.
I killed people... I am a monster... The voices told me I did it right, and they tell me to do more bad things, but it was not. This is not right. I hate it.
The darkness and I are one now. It will not go away. It is part of me.
I was broken, and now I am shattered.
My blood runs through my fingers so beautifully. It is the color of red roses. It is warm, and I can feel my own unsteady pul
In Between the Living and the UndeadElijah set the camera between the branches with trembling hands. His fever had spiked so much he could feel the sweat pouring off his body, drenching him from head to toe. He welcomed the cool mountain breeze as it blew over his ashen face. Once the camera became situated he hit the record button and began.
“Hello,” he spoke wearily. Elijah barely got the first word out before he began coughing violently. When the choking fit ended he could see his own hand was stained with blood. Elijah wiped it on his already stained jeans and continued.
“My name is Elijah. I am a member of a small band of survivors who are attempting to reach the military base in Vancouver. We have little food or shelter and our morale is low. Yet, by some miracle or just blind luck we’ve managed to encounter no hoards since reaching the Appalachia.”
He paused for a moment, biting his dry lip and contemplated. Then he added, “Before the epidemic, I was a scientist working for the
Wild Vampire Chase I was twenty-two when I started chasing her. I'm thirty-two now, but still a few days shy of the ten year anniversary. She was my friend, the only one I had. She begged, pleaded to become one of them only to turn on the one who made her, killing him with one swift blow that tore his head from his neck. I, by her, was offered the gift of immortality, but saw that it might corrupt the mind, and tried to kill her, much as I didn't want to. She gave me something to remember her by before escaping. A small, curved scar on the side of my neck that was not intended to kill. A souvenir to always have with me. In the back of my mind, I'm glad she got away. I'm glad I didn't have to kill my friend.
Throughout the years, I followed her narrow path of blood. She was careful, but left me clues. On purpose, it turns out. She left me some friends to play with sometimes. They weren't nearly as strong as her, so my playmates easily became fertilizer. At least they decay fast e
Outside My Bedroom DoorI heard scratching and whimpering outside my bedroom door every night. The dog was chained in the yard; I lived alone.
CP ONE SHOT: I can't remember...Wesley never liked the forest, it always creeped him out. The run down barn, the leafless trees, the broken silos, it was all scary as fuck. And now he was stuck out here, forced to stay outside by his 'friends' to prove he wasn't a coward. It started when they pointed at a hanging canvas bag, dripping red fluid. Wesley had been confused by it, as he stood underneath it and watched the liquid drip down the trunk. He wasn't scared, just weirded out. That all changed when he felt breathing on the back of his neck. He turned around as fast as he could but whatever had been behind him disappeared. It startled him, and the young teen contemplated it as he walked through the trees and foliage. A white blur rushed in front of him, catching him off guard. "Who's there?! Show yourself!" The frightened teen turned on his flashlight and glanced around, panting in fear. The boy ran forward, the beam of light bouncing around wildly across the trees. Another tree, a bloodstained canvas bag hanging f
Double Tap Proxy EditionAlly the Slender Doll and Paranoia: "Last Resort" -Papa Roach
Ally faced her opponent, blood oozing out of several gashes in her side. Her vision blurred a bit as Paranoia was thrown away from the Rake, her muzzle shredded by the beast's sharp claws. The small brunette tried to pick herself up off the factory floor, but collapsed because of blood loss. The Slender Doll felt something beckoning from the shadows, pulling her into the dark embrace. Darkness shrouded from the area, covering Paranoia's body as well. A stirring from the epicenter of the blackest corner of the room caught the Rake's attention, the beast turning to face the creature inside of the shadow. Ally re-emerged, her mouth torn in a sadistic fashion, her eyes black and soulless. The Rake's eyes shifted down to her hands, taking in the cleavers in the claws of his enemy. A second being rose from the oozing penumbra, letting the darkness roll off of her figure. Her eyes were revealed first, thin, angry cat-like slits gla
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
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More