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I Belong to The HurricaneI belong to the hurricane
the screaming, untamed maelstrom that cleaves away puppet strings
and sharpens its teeth on misconceptions.
I belong to the harsh cold winter of an aching truth
one that beats a drum like a heartbeat under the graveyards,
whispering things that our ancestors knew (but we have forgotten).
I belong to the hurricane
yeah, that's the one the same storm that broke my back and scratched at my eyes.
It flayed open my chest and showed me my own diamond bones.
I belong to angels with battle-torn wings and voices raw from howling!
I belong to war
and to the air that sings a dirge for your dying freedoms.
I belong to the stark white walls of an empty room,
in the form of dangerous thoughts breathing in your ear.
I belong to rebellion.
So here, my friend, is to the bullet casings on your floor,
And bandages made of blankets you once slept soundly under,
And heartlines worn deep in the palms of your hands.
NaraThey fell together,
One after the other,
A killer and a mute.
And this was no love story,
Although they did love each other,
And watched over each other like guardian angels.
The killer's eyes were black, although he was first to learn
How gentle black could be when in the presence of the mute girl.
The mute girl's hands were angry when she spoke,
Although she was first to learn how easily he could calm them.
This is no love story,
Although they did love each other, dearly.
This is a story of a brother and a sister,
Related only by the smile they reserved for each other,
And closer than many siblings could ever be.
Battle-BornStand your ground, and shout yourself raw
You're a soldier and you will not die. YOU WILL NOT DIE.
You're an Amazon warrior, love, and I'm right beside you -
Hell, I ain't
Any kind of angel, but sister, I'll fight tooth and nail; I'll pull my weight.
See my wings have been broken, but I'm not done,
And I love you,
And for me that's damn well enough.
Because we weren't born for romance,
You and I we were born
For combat, bullets and singing metal and ringing ears.
Hold your rifle high, sweetheart,
And grin through my cutting words, because
You know it means I'm shivering for the fight.
You know my pet-names are condescending and endearing.
And that I am taunting them through reassuring you.
We are not the calm in the storm, though, sister, and you know it.
We are the storm we are the hurricane, TWO ON TWO THOUSAND,
And it's as if each of us were wrath itself,
Screaming fire and cutting to the quic
StigmaYou sang in your chains as they clattered and shook,
Your voice was like a dying angel.
And it was as if you didn't care
The cancer had spread but you did not hurt for it.
And as the chains took hold, you stood by the river
But you did not cross, only stared back at me with gaunt and sallow cheeks.
But neither did you stay alive, exist, any longer,
Like a dying hurricane heaved recklessly at the tortuous shore.
Then your ghost returned to throw pebbles at my window,
Your stigma a rhythm infecting my dreams.
And even if I looked for you
Sang the ravens, the voices of Ares's wake, mocking my own desperation.
(Even if the whole point of you was lost on me,
you never minded as we lay dizzy on the moonlit grass.
This was what I was looking for, and failing for,
If only for the part of you that was mystery and silver and shy.)
And then your eyes themselves le
coffee at 7 p.m.The iced coffee is damn good today,
despite being poured from a carton,
despite being sloshed into a mug
with cheap swinging rock blaring in the background.
I'm okay today. My seven sins have curled deep into a small corner of my ribcage,
And... I'm okay. And dear God, it feels good to say that.
My case is shared by six billion other people on this planet
It's not unique, but I still feel it, all the same.
I feel the weight, sometimes.
Crushing down on me like an ocean, screaming at me.
Sometimes I find myself painting new faces on my mask every hour...
Just to get through the day.
But today, I'm okay.
Today, I'm okay, and for once, that's not just the coffee talking.
RealizeI don't think you realize
Just exactly what you did.
I don't think you quite understand
The magnitude of your situation.
But me? Oh, I won't say anything.
Nothing to ruin your summer.
But with fall fast approaching
Don't sing to me with your silver tongue
And don't touch me with your cracking hands.
Stay far away from me
So my wrath, my rage, my snapping teeth
Do not reach your ears.
Live in your blissful ignorance
As the acid slides past my snarling jaws.
Because I believe that you will not change.
The anthem of your heartbeat will not so much as flutter.
Or perhaps you have no heart to make a beat.
Perhaps your carelessness is truly that
Instead of taking for granted what you shouldn't have.
In any case, why should I sleep,
If my insomnia begs me not to?
What do I have to lose from you,
If I stay up, and dream of a dying star?
The answer is obviously nothing.
Nothing, like the hollow beat of a drum.
The hollow echo of an absent heart HA!
You, my former f
DisplacementIf you want the wingless to live
And you want the dead to fly,
Then turn back the tides of time
And look into my eyes.
Our weapon, you see, is only a soul
Pitted against our many selves.
Because steel turns on all its masters
And books pull hands down from the shelves,
Locks don't open the old-fashioned keys
And gravity screams before it dispels.
If you turn a mirror upside down,
It stays silent; all is well.
But splash at water on a sunny day
And whispering voices have much to tell.
If you think with your heart and feel with your mind,
Earth orbits the moon and outshines the sun.
Our only weapon is a soul...
Struggling against our many selves.
Violets are red and roses are blue;
You can't say insanity hasn't touched you too.
Now scatter the water and break the glass,
And let your dreams drift in a dry lagoon.
If you want the dead to live,
If you want the wingless to fly,
Turn back the tides of time
And look into my eyes.
Our many selves
Are unified within the soul.
Because steel is wi
Survive You ::Collection::You think you know everything
But what you don't know is that
I'm going to survive you.
You still ask your questions
YOU NEVER SHUT UP.
But I'm going to survive you.
I'll freeze you out; be cool as fucking ICE.
And you thought I was made of fire.
I have two faces, dear love.
Chiseled out of cold stoic marble
And wrought from shrieking scarlet flames.
I'm going to survive you.
I'll show you my cruelty, my rebel, my rage.
I'll shut you out and never, ever look back.
I'm going to survive you
And there's not a fucking thing you can do about it.
Burning dreams in heaps of ashes
As my old skin comes crashing to the ground.
I'm glad to be rid of it.
I am cold, quiet starlight
I am the fire and fury of the sun.
I am burning shadows and becoming them.
I am tearing through old memories and showing them
Through circles like bruises under thunderstorm eyes.
I am nothing and everything and empty and untouchable.
I am the haunted soldier, shadows of war whispering
Storm GirlOne day she was just there, appearing from nowhere. She came down from heaven, a little girl with eyes as pale as the moon and a heart as big as the sky. She was small and paper-thin, round-faced, more graceful than any ballerina. She never wore anything except her frayed, tattered white sundress, which was quickly fading to a dingy gray because she was so fond of dirt, and detested shoes. Signs of civilization were scarce in her, from her wild, silky mahogany mane to her tiny, scraped feet. There was no way to tame her, no matter how we tried. She would thank us so politely for clothes and shoes and toys, then neatly stow them away in her closet and tumble into the grass outside.
Her voice was the only thing that did not fit with the rest of her. For such a raw, uncivilized child, she was very honest, very polite, and very wise. Every time she opened her small, solemn mouth, something strange and y
DivideThings haven't told you,
things you're to know.
things coming closer,
I am to go.
Thanks fore the smile,
thanks for those days.
Thank you, for never,
the worst in your face.
Sorry, never, will,
tell you Goodbye.
Sorry, in some time,
for you i will die.
The worst of all,
you'll never see.
How big the wound,
has grown to be.
You'll see a friend,
who smiling stands.
I'll see a start,
that wrongly ends.
I know all this story,
I wrote it myself.
I left it, forgotten,
in sad-painted shelf.
He Will Have It Good
Touching the heaven is difficult,
Entering easier than you think,
But at once so hard.
He will have it good up there.
Lone WolfLone Wolf
Time and time again you leave us with despair
Begging for your love my dear mother Moon
After all this long road weve run on into shadows deep
You never were there at the end of the lone road
You never gave us the love you gave to others
You forsaken your sons and plugged to the humans
They destroy your grace mother by saying you are evil
And yet again you turn your back at us your children
Children who love you and sing to you
We sing our sorrow songs at night hoping you can hear them
Hoping you can hear us and look at us with your beautiful light
But that never happens since you no longer love us
You gave away your love for your children away
The humans hunt us and kill us while you close your eyes
Our blood covers the forests and the cliffs and you still dont look at us
We are dying mother while your eyes are closed for us
Youve turned your back at us while we moan for you
Our howl becomes hallow by every night that passes
With every night we fade by the
To Offer A StarThe wonder has fallen from slumber
Fingers of fire nip at my heels
I add a star to the sky for the song I love
Could it ever be for the one I love?
That page is yet to be written
but she (and every 'she') have left my waking dreams
They have no use for my concern
Where the Crows BleedSilhouettes of scarlet whisper
among the bones..
Forsaken beneath earth and stone, I am
bejeweled in the River's dread
Trees clad in sanguine
salivate in the abyss of sorrow
The perfume of blood seduces the sky
incantations of the netherworld
Ebon ghosts shimmer in falling ash,
where love decays evermore
I undress in the lust of darkness; my soul
bequeathed to oblivion seeds the wind
with poisoned tongue flickering
Upon banks of obsidian I gaze
haunted in a tempest of necromancy
I render my ache in shadow-fire,
deep in the dark flow
Behold! The River Acheron!
In the syrup of dreams
crimson fields burn in my eye
Bleeding in the silence of dark ether,
I seek your lips..
The song of afterlife covets our love
Kisses blush upon a blade of rusted steel
Corvid screams bathe in Death's lullaby
Vistas of requiem caress our flesh,
as the River seethes deep in my veins
Unto my brethren do I bask
among black wings wicked n' dreary
Like pitch cast over hallowed waters,
Winter's HandWinter claws, and bites and kills,
And thinks, and talks, and whispers,
I am made of sunlight
Winter taunts, and laughs and threats
And sneers, and chants and second glance,
I exhale moonlight
Winter stands, to rise and fall,
It's time has come, its sorrow calls,
And sprinting takes away the cold
Brings light back to our sorrowed souls
NelophobiaHer heart was the same color as nightmares.
She spoke in her sleep, whispering early on
when things were uncertain; then sometime
around midnight, the screaming began.
Her body was the closest thing to bloodless.
She ran her fingers through the night sky
and told it to stand still; then sometime
around sunrise, she was smothered.
Her room's walls were marked with mayhem.
She drew tiny pictures all over her body
so that her thoughts could breathe; then sometime
in the near future, they found her.
Her soul was made of white glass.
She compiled the shards in the shape of roses
because they smell like dishonesty; then sometime
in the past, she began to fear.
TearsFeel the rain dripping on your face
Sitting somewhere in an unknown place
You might just had your heart broken
Those feelings of yours go unspoken
Let the rain wash your pain away
Let it wash away and find your way
Let the rain slowly heal your wounds
It heals your heart and will hide your wounds
The rain will stay with you for years
It's one of those things that always cares
Because in the rain nobody will see your tears
SparkA constant flush of heat will
Flare and flicker, unseen,
In the walls and in the
Roofs above our heads.
In the crimson blotches on our cheeks;
The steady, unsteady, uncertain beat
Of our hearts, palpitating, hidden,
In the caverns of our chest.
In the faintly shimmering spark between
Our ears, behind our
Eyes, alight, aspiring,
And the hush of wind and grit
Against the fire halts the
Flickers of the flame
And it dies out,
A Night By The OceanThat night by the ocean I stood outside and wept,
For the impermanence of the waves washing against the sand
And the fleeting silver in the sky,
Salt water stinging my bruised and bloodied feet
And pricking at my scraped, raw knees,
As if to push under my skin and erode the sugary fear lacing my bones.
That night by the ocean I stood with my back to the city lights,
On my own small island in the middle of a crashing, roaring mass of humanity.
The water rushed in and tugged at my toes,
Seeking to overpower the strength of my sadness and the subtle slip of consciousness.
When the clock struck midnight I let it pull me under, gasping one last time
And disappearing under a body so vast, so capable of smothering everything but heaven,
Which already had a firm grasp on my almost-arrested heart,
Still rooted beneath a grave of sorrow.
That night by the ocean I stood in the rising tide,
Contemplating dancing over the waves and slipping away from my cage made of iron.
Soaked from head to toe, I
I Belong To You I hate rain. Not really, I love it. Just not when the most beautiful, perfect, wonderful, perfect, comfortable, waterproof, perfect coat in existence has been savagely butchered by my so-called friend’s Dalmatian. Every slap of rain on my naked arms is a stinging reminder of the irreparable hole in my wardrobe.
Some people might try to fill the void with lesser coats but I can’t bring myself to betray Valentino, even after her death. Instead my slippery arms grapple with each other in wet shock as I stumble to the op shop, clinging to one last thread of hope. I know in my deadened heart that I’ll never have another coat like her. Yet here I am, blundering through the elements in my vain search for the acceptance and warmth I found wrapped in Valentino’s woollen sleeves.
Thud. My body slams into the door, making the ‘open’ sign quiver and the bells tinkle in offense. I fight for entry, the door’s assault doubled by the stale funk of
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More