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SympathyThere was a man yesterday at my window
Asking me why his wife had left him.
Opened the window,
Put my hands on his face,
And snapped his neck
“If you had only told her how much you loved her,
She could have given you all you wanted and more”
Me and You, Yesterday You asked me about my life yesterday, and at the time I wasn't really able to respond truthfully. Well, here you go: the complete and total truth (because I literally have nothing better to do).
Two days ago I enlisted myself in a 10 day insomnia research project to see if it would somehow help me wake me up to the reality of the world (ha, ha, see what I did there?). I don't know why; I don't even suffer from insomnia. Really, my enlistment in the program is like a giant dick up the ass of the research facility. They have to deal with assholes like me all the time. I guess I really don't care anymore- when they find out I don't qualify I'll probably be too far into the study for them to take any legal action. Even if I don't finish the study I still get a stipend. That's a consolation, I guess.
The thing that keeps me up at night isn't really insomnia, it's my over analytical thought process. I have an obsession with the human condition- with eyes especially
LinearLife seems to move in a
Linear direction in
From brights to black.
It turns greyer every day
Like your hair will do;
Like your sight will do
Where are we now?
Can we point on a palate?
On a page?
When we run our fingers through
The braile-stained book of life
We flip the switch, close the door, and
Try to sleep through the darkness.
I think that our days are
Darkened by insight
And pictures of long dead insects
I think that we believe
Our perfect wings to be broken.
Are we as old now at this moment
As we will ever be,
Or is everything happening…
I Know BetterShe whispers to me with her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking;
I'd say she hates me,
Steeping TeaThere is a place not too far from your
Mind’s eye where an alligator sits down
To enjoy the scenery. However, as he
Sits, the world begins to melt.
First go the trees, melting like little
Wax soldiers left out in the sun. The
Alligator doesn’t really mind. He is paying
Too much attention to the mouth forming
In the centre of a purple marsh.
As he watches, the mouth begins to swallow
The colour from the world. And it is
Painful, too. A million colours are gone now
As if they never existed, as if they were
Sucked from the flesh of imagination.
Finally the mouth opens to tell the alligator
Good morning, but the alligator is gone,
And the colourless sun has begun its descent.
Sleep DownWake up,
We can make breakfast in bed and
Weave together our calloused fingers
We can share our afternoons
Pretending like the world is made of diamonds
We can stay up late and
Laugh at those old nightime TV shows
Mr DeathMr. Death has got me by my teeth
WHY DON'T YOU RUN
WHY STOP NOW?
Do not dare to move a muscle.
(Req) Denmark x Reader - Head Over Heels
Cerulean blue eyes bore anxiously into your own as you sit, wincing, on the grass, the blades slightly tickling your legs. It's a beautiful day out, the sky virtually cloudless and a light breeze preventing it from growing too stifling. You would enjoy it more if you hadn't just gotten over skidding and crashing rather painfully onto the ground. If you'd had it your way, you would have appreciated the gorgeous summer day from the safety of your own house. The fall would have been almost impressive in its acrobatics if it wasn’t so painful.
"I told you that not everybody can rollarskate."
Since you twisted your ankle, Matthias has been fussing over you like a total mother hen. And although you're pretty annoyed with him for putting you through this whole thing, you have to admit that he looks pretty cute when he's flustered. It's such a change from his usual, somewhat arrogant demeanor. If you were feeling a little more sadistic, you might be tempted to play up how much pain you'r
Apocalypse Artist - A short story (WIP)I didn't know how to feel about the way the war ended. It felt sudden. Surreal. Sure, there were signs this might happen. Our economy failed almost overnight, it seemed. Chaos shortly followed that. When people didn't have the means to get by in our damaged society, violence became the new normal. What really did it were the raids. I never thought they would come to my city. When we saw the bombers overhead...
Another stroke of white paint here... to highlight the bombshell...
I scratched my nose, smearing some of the paint on my face, and stepped back to look at my newest painting. The wall of the old warehouse now held a fresh mural depicting the war. Bombshells hovered just above the ground. People were running from the impending blast, though they wouldn't escape. Fear was captured in all of their faces in that terrible moment.
I peered over the three buckets of paint I had used for this mural. There wasn't much left, but I could use them again. I placed the lids back onto th
Shadow of a memory
Long has the time passed for us. We see our future, a shamble of the illusion we once held. The memory of what could have once been, and now, nothing more than a dream just out of reach. We reach out to the memories of childhood, desperately grasping onto the simpler moments of those times. Oh how we long for those days when the world still held wonder and endless possibilities. But we are grown now, and must move forward. Past the memories and into the shadows of the now. And sometimes I can’t help but wonder; what lies beyond these shadows? Will the light be my salvation, or my own damnation?
I am your constant follower.
I am the one who cleans up the mess the humans create, making sure all the souls goes to the place they belong.
I am the master of time, I will always now when your time has come.
I might even be your saviour, making sure that you won’t go until the right hour has struck.
I am your fear, the fear of dying, and I am the creator of your agony and doubt about the afterlife.
I am the one you might hate, you hate me because of the life’s I have taken from you.
I am walking beside you when your last days are approaching.
You will only be able to see me when your time has come.
Then you might beg me to spare you, you will tell me all the things you have left to do, all the people you want to love for just a little bit longer.
I will only listen to your words and give you the same answer that I have given to so many humans: “Your time has come, and nothing can change that.”
But until that day, I will be around, wa
Words on a Page I was alone on the bus, curled up against the window with my backpack on my knees, and surrounded by people who were too tired to realize I was among them. I didn’t blame them; everyone just wanted to get home. And besides, I got the seat all to myself.
I always find it ironic that I choose to be near people when I shove them away. I’m most comfortable alone and yet I chose to sit in the most popular seats. Which then became invisible the moment I took one. Everyone passed me by, not even meeting my gaze as they walked on, grinning and shouting half a car length to their friends and holding conversations loud enough I could hear them through my headphones.
Like I said, I was alone. It made me wish I had friends. But even my brother didn’t want to ride the bus with me. If I had been the one to get out of class early, I would have waited for him. The one other person I knew who was heading to the same general area of t
Alone She stood, staring out at the wilderness. Eighteen feet tall, and feeling alive. Her skin felt as if it were being pricked by a billion needles, as the wind beat against her. She was sturdy, but beyond the appearance of happiness and stability, there was indescribable fragility. Eighteen inches tall.
The roof of her grandparents home in the country was her very favourite place to be. The one story ranch-style was humble, but beautiful. For Katie-Ann, it was home, and that was the best place she could ever be. Her heart beat uneven with the rush of stepping to the edge. What is beyond? What is unknown?
Katie-Ann took a deep breath, her toes gripping the rough shingles as if they alone were strong enough to keep her steady in the face of disaster. All it would take to send her tumbling to the earth was a gentle push or a slight lean forward. Instead, the wind pursued Katie's breast, and pressed her firmly on her rear, emitting a tiny squeak.
Katie couldn't help
You Do Not KnowYou do not know what is happening.
Your head rests on your pillow as you say goodbye to your family.
The chair's straps dig into your wrists as you thrash madly, the electrodes on your temples cold and sticky and the needle pushed against your wrist the epitome of dread.
Your comrades' frantic yelling dissolves into meaningless mush as more bullets smash into you, driving you back against the Helmand village's wall.
You don't even have the strength to raise your arm as the merciless sun bakes your body to bones, the expedition that should have made your fortune having resulted in nothing but your death.
You do not know where you are.
The moon's pale gaze winks slyly down at you, the stars sighing into the void as the drugs take hold.
The wall you clutch grows fuzzy and soft as the city's sights fade to black.
The waters filling your lungs simply don't exist; your pounding blood feels like pure joy, immersed in your private sea of ecstasy.
A thousand places blur into vision as your mind
NimbusErdrückend und beängstigend, eine tonlose Umgebung.
Ich fühle die Leere, die Abwesenheit von Leben. Wie eine hungrige Schlange versucht die beklemmende Stimmung mich zu verzehren. Die Monotonität der Ruhe, sie macht mich verrückt, drängt mich an den Rand des Wahnsinns. Mein Verstand schaltet ab, ohne Antrieb keine Funktionsfähigkeit.
Kraftlos liege ich am Boden, hoffnungslos lausche ich dem Nichts. Dem Nichts, das sowohl allgegenwärtig, als auch nirgends um mich herum zu sein scheint.
Ich sehne mich nach einem Ton, einem Klang, der mich zurück holen kann.
Die Musik ist mein Äther, meine Essenz des Lebens. Ohne sie bin ich nichts.
The Air I opened my front door and lifted my eyelids. The morning air was cold enough to materialize my breath, but my face felt warm enough that the air was refreshing rather than chilling. I stepped into the doorway expecting something extraordinary, only to feel the familiar crunch of gravel under my shoes like tiny bones breaking under the weight of my conscious body. The morning was familiar with me already, though we had never met. She wrapped her body of fog around mine as I stepped out of my doorway and swept her icy fingers through my hair as I drifted down the pathway of gravel-bones. The day was my pet, she was my other half, we were one, and against such a non-concrete being I felt naked.
"Together," The morning seemed to whisper into my ears, "together, together, together."
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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