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He promised that he'd watch over me.Like a Hawk and it’s Prey,
You are patient and gentle at first.
You lurk in the depths of my mind,
Playing and toying with me,
Pressuring your hunt until,
You have trapped me.
That sleek, cool persona becomes deadly.
Your sharp movements are too smooth to avoid.
You know what you are doing,
You have done this many times before.
Your swift movements are fluid and,
I am at the mercy of you,
Knowing what is about to happen.
Alarm bells ring within my mind,
But there is nothing I can do to prevent this.
Your claws are too deep within my skin to stop.
All I can do is follow this chain of life and,
Feel the pain you inflict.
Feel the passion as you do so.
Feel the blood gush out of my pulsing, frail body.
Feel the last breath upon my skin.
I look deep into your eyes as you cut me off from existence completely,
Falling under your trance once more.
I'm not going to fall like a piece in your Domino“Shh, it’s Ok”
Hush, don’t fret
Stop worrying about if’s and buts
I’m willing to lead
Just go with the flow
This is our natural course
So take my hand
Come this way
I’m here for you,
Don’t be afraid.
That’s what they always say.
Wake Up‘Look at me and whatta ya see’…
A girl who can’t seem to stop dreaming of what life could be
She can’t seem to wake up
And see the reality of her wondrous life
Always wishing upon a star
Never realising the power of god
While a man sits beside her
Until she opens her eyes
And she her dream before her.
Oh why must we dance in the dark?Why not me
It’s a question I ask a lot
Why not me
I’m just as pretty
Why not me
I’m just as smart
Why not me
I’m just as good as her!
As everyone else on this damn planet!
But then a guy asks
Why not her
She’s just as pretty
Why not her
She’s just as smart
Why not her
She just as good, no better!
Than everyone else on this damn planet!
But I’m too busy questioning why,
That I don’t realise that he’s the guy,
The guy who will make me shine deep within the night sky.
Don't do it like the moviesDon’t stroke my cheek
Although I long for your touch.
Don’t smile at me in ‘that way’,
However much you make me blush.
Don’t look into my eyes and see me whole,
Even though only you can do that.
Don’t kiss me so soft and tender,
But yours are the only lips I want to kiss.
Don’t wipe my tears away and hold me tight,
Yet you are the only one who can make things right.
You can fold me into a paper airplane and make me fly.
Can someone turn on a light?Confused and lost
I don’t know how to feel.
That the silence is deafening.
That it seems nature.
‘X’ marks the spot but I don’t know the path.
Oh please help me find me way back.
Please be HappyPlease be happy.
That is all I wish for.
Although you will never feel the same way,
It doesn’t mean that I will stop caring.
So take her hand,
Hold on tight.
She is the one that will keep the light in the night.
You are meant for each other.
I should have known.
I see that now.
She is a beautiful sight.
You always had that ‘special connection’.
But my feelings don’t matter
Towards how we could have been.
Just please be happy,
Just for me.
My Ending...I laughed at people wishing
I mocked the shooting stars
I criticised children dreaming
I shouted at reasoning
I abused god's prayers
I blamed everything and anything for my ending.
Medias and Societies ReasoningToo fat,
Too much of this and not of that.
I don’t have enough talent,
Just about average,
I’m a little too strange to make the cut.
I don’t have the quality,
Too naive to understand,
To useless to make it.
These are the reasons,
These are the excuses,
These are the so-called-facts,
As to why I am worthless.
The Female SuicideTwenty years of nursing
emergency room wounds
and my grandmother
puts down her fork, rubs
her brow and tells me
the female suicide
is a more methodical,
A woman will close
the curtains, cleanse
their apartment of clutter
for the first time in months
and proceed to overdose
in the comfort of their
A woman will do this
because she is aware
someone will have to
discover her like this.
Someone will have to
bury her like this.
My grandmother says this
because when my uncle speaks
paramedic about the male
he pronounced dead from
a house’s television antenna
he never mentions a burial.
To you who writes until you bleed and cry and diei. You aren't the ruins of Greece.
You don't combust into fascination when the black
rose you planted years ago finally bloom and poison
your veins and stop your heart beat in black splotches
and dirty grenade. The Earth won't mould trees or
ocean or clouds into your image when rust seeps into
your wrist, turning you into a sculpture of grey hands
and silver blood. You won't smile knowing a spider is
creeping up your throat, spider webbing your tongue and robbing your voice away.
ii. You can't tame a wild boar with tombstone nails.
You don't have to get why your wounds rot like
the speed of a full-on hail storm and why others
have bowstring smile and pretty eyes all the
damn time. You don't have to know why your
musical box blasts in gunfires and thunderbolts
while other have rose tattoos exploding in fierce
fireworks and adrenaline-rushing stage fire. You
can't tame a wild boar with tombstone nails and
scraped metallic heart. You can't love yourse
the cultivation of neophiliai.
give in to it:
the insatiable restlessness
that haunts, heavy
in a familiar corner
of your eyeline.
drive toward the night.
halt only when you
can no longer
trace paths of neon
from streetlight to fingertip;
never quite reach the
eventually, stop trying.
look over the paper city
resting fragile below;
tear it to shreds
with vicious intent
forget that you have
loved and hoped and
for a moment
there is only you,
the night, and the need
desire like you've
never wanted anything,
search for the novel,
for the fantastical
and the faintest hint
of something new
in the sky-glow.
stand so high atop
wonder how they do not
under the weight
of all this empty
A Ball Of CherriesImagine life
like a ball of cherries.
You can't eat many,
Don't rush to eat them!
Some are soft,
Don't go too slow, you'll lose the taste.
storiesi begin and end with stories
where hummingbird hearts play sonatas
against my ribs and i drown in
early morning light and
the girl in me sinks into the sea
like rusting anchors chained to
ships and i sway port and starboard
the lion in me rises like lazarus
from the savannah where dust swirls
and i begin and end with stories
where i swallow the world and all
the rain and girls and lions in it
where i hold it up like atlas,
where i support jupiter with just
an index finger and where i chase
comets and cup them like fireflies
to hang on my bedroom walls
Blooming Through CrevicesBlooming Through Crevices
People are characters;
their personalities are not to be cracked,
but to bloom.
Codes and signals
Setting our sights
On how to see
Through the cipher.
Optics opting for options
As opposed to conscious.
Ardor replaced by harder
To break through exteriors.
But mortality is only one facet
Of the entirety of humanity.
It is a compass of one being,
But merely a piece of the puzzle
That makes up human composition.
let us not break through empathy
with deductive methodology
but rather with the rhythm
of a honeybee whistling along the hymn
of the wind whispering in the leaves.
humanistic, holistic ideologies
is what the standard can be.
it is the notion of being a metaphor
rather than being something to decipher.
because there are more stars and galaxies
in poetry than there will ever be algebraic
expression curls up with ambiance
under the window pain of a picture frame
because we write more about
broken bones and broken birdsdragonflies buzz between
your tangled fingers
seeking nectar under
your chewed nails,
but the bitter burn
of almond acid will
clip their mosaic wings.
you're centered at
nature's core, a
centrifugal force of gravity,
grasping and dragging
lives to your unforgiving
you strangled the wild
whistling hare underneath
the billowing willow, and
your tongue tripped into
compulsive lies and disbelief.
i mean c'mon, clearly,
it was an accident.
if that's the case
the blue-eyed raven
that crashed to earth
after striking a third
degree burn, should
have survived, but you
plucked feathers from its
wings and drowned it.
you have a way with
decaying everything you
touch, your soul, my
heart, a puppy in a
cardboard box, yet
we all keep coming
back to you.
i think we all know
that even though you
bend and break and
bully the world, you
are the most broken
of all, and i just want
to fix you.
My leap of faithI dare to dream
A dream so big
A dream so wild
A dream so sweet
I strive to fly
To fly so high
To fly so long
To fly so fast
I leap to feel
A leap so strong
A leap so great
A leap so wonderful
I fall to understand
To realise the truth
To realise the reality
To realise the bitterness
The madness of my life will always be bittersweet
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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