day.psychic senses, holy hourcome calling for pride's power.Safety set in eagle's eyemaybe met by the moon's mind. Pallid pages meet my mind,tired tales of the sun's shine--I left love and chased the clouds,fearing future but not now.
fourth season.snowfallsleavingsmall footprintsas people huddleand grasp each other lovinglybecause coats do not satisfy the innate desireto grab the one you love and give them kisses as soft as the snowflakes surrounding them.And thick gloves hinder the hands that are desperate to take refuge alongside a beating heart that can take ice and transmute it to the steamthat holds the strength of a thousand suns to rekindle ice-bound tongues and bring snow angels to life--because they remind us of the innocence that comes with warm eskimo kisses that comfort better than any snow suit.
The Curious and Peculiar Tale of the Simonov TwinsThe Curious and Peculiarly Tragic Tale of the Simonov TwinsI have done most of my post-doctorate work alongside Dean Eroslide as he ran Harry Loaine School for Boys. It was a tiny little establishment, set up in a series of pathways and cottages that made up the dormitories and the 'holistic' and 'traditional', designed to accommodate Dean Eroslide's philosophy of natural living: 'clean and untouched life energy regulates all chakras and promotes a positive educational environment'. Needless to say, Harry Loaine School for Boys was a parent's last resort, when everything from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to Interventions and to Involuntary Hospitalization was never enough. The Dean had no degree of any sort other than a few licenses for Chakra healing and Reiki, so the entirety of the upkeep of the facility remained on the shoulders of these desperate parents--and of course the government kickbacks the School received for keeping me as a full time Child Psychologist
edit.Ink stained fingerstell the stories I'd love to forget. Ink stained fingersplague like a demon that lingers--smearing words with the tears so wetand showing the world those perfectink stained fingers.
Strangely BeautifulEven the city knowsthat the leaves are changing (us);and all it tookwere endless snowflake kisses.If I should forgetour lost memories between the sofa cushions,then we are the real monstersfishing for stars with our head in the clouds.These tendencies show me your human ascension--because we've never been experts on anything else.
addiction.It's just a shame to see your face--the way you poison yourself, so.You are just a corpse of disgrace,wailing out your pitiful woes.I've offered you my hand always,but we ended up parting ways.In the end you're welcome backbut you must have your life on track.
Tiffany BlueShe often gave tired sapphire sighswith breaths filled with passion and gasps of steam,but her eyes are the abyss and they're the mark,stealing daylight under her watchful mean. "The winter is too cold here," she said to meand with eyes cast high to the sky she smiledbecause today the rain turned to diamondswhere atop her umbrella they compiled. "Summer's gone and it is not welcome back,"as she pulled her scarf up close to her neck."Because the sky's the glint in Tiffany's eyeand this weather is absolutely perfect."
helpless.We found ourselves in the riverswhile we held hands and contained our shiversbecause our clothes shrank two sizes too small,and we had to let them dry under stars' glimmer. That night you were an impenetrable wallwith your heart teetering over, ready to fallbut I myself was far too frozenso I watched you shatter, like a porcelain doll. Your sighs were as deep as the ocean,and came like the waves: in dozens. I cradled your heart like the sea's abandoned shellsbut like them it was far too broken. It's the whispers you shared about how you feltwhen you gave me the pain you kept for yourself.I kept it, reluctant but brave--even when I knew I couldn't help.
awakening.She gave her heart to the skyand proclaimed her love for freedom.and for eternity she waitedwith eyes cast upwards, pleading. With no need for earthbound thingsshe said goodbye to it alland with lungs filled with joyshe gave her heart to the sky. She kissed the clouds "hello"and told Father Sun "I'll see you soon".With arms outstretched to the heavens she smiled,and proclaimed her love for freedom. She sang with the birds day after dayand kissed the butterflies that rested on her arms.The sun accepted her loyaltyand for eternity she waited.Her tears could move mountainsyet her body could never leave.She died as she lived, waitingwith eyes cast upwards, pleading.
parent and child.You have carried me on your back as we trek through the world.And while you gave me nourishment I gave you stories to tell.It is a perfect arrangement, match made 'til eternity's end.
EpiphanyEpiphany - is an experience of sudden and striking realization. Generally the term is used to describe scientific breakthrough, religious or philosophical discoveries, but it can apply in any situation in which an enlightening realization allows a problem or situation to be understood from a new and deeper perspective. Enlightened I am now in the shadow of the sunthat creeps through my windowin the corner of my room My situation is heightened by an awareness of an utter realitythat I have come full circle in my life so farThis realization that ma
to the girl with the razors in her back pocket,stop. turn around. i understand you,and i understand the sadnessentrenched in your bones. i understandthe late nights spent in anxious prayerto the towels, to the creaky floorboardjust outside your parents' room, to the sinkthat stains too easily. i understandthe catastrophic glances that people throw youwhen you open your mouth and tryto belong. i understand the intense momentsspent in dressing rooms splicing together outfitsthat will gracefully sweep past tally-marked wrists and anklesand hopefully make sense in the dead of summer.i understand the nights that you carve the emptinessonto the razor and wonder if it wouldn't be betterto just die tonight instead. no one can be angry...or disappointed...or judgmental...or sympathetic (becausesometimes forced empathy is the worst)...when youno longer exist. it just stops. and anythinghas to be better than this.well, you're right about one thing. it doesget better. and not in that corny waypeople tell you. you won't se
Versions“Jesus, how long does it take to put on a tux?”His voice came to me muffled by the heavy curtain in front of the changing room. “I — appreciate — it,” he said as he struggled with the garment, “but — my name’s — Ethan.”I laughed, my bangs swinging to the side of my face. Curling my legs up on the leather armchair, my eyes wandered over the dark, musty tailor shop. “That joke has been way overdone. Like, so overdone, it’s burnt to a crisp.”“Why’d you laugh at it, then?” I could hear him grinning through the curtain. His feet were thumping on the hardwood floor, and I could imagine him almost falling over as he slipped in his socks. I giggled into my hand.All was quiet for a minute, the only sounds coming from the cash register at the other end of the store. Drawing my eyebrows together, I asked, “Everything okay? You didn’t have a heart attack or something?”
Death's EmbraceDeath decided he loved me too much,and called my name, reachingout to take me with him.My hand slipped out of yoursas I stretched for his embrace,cool and soft to my touch.I don’t regret my decision.He loves me more than you ever did.
A Conglomeration of Beautyi. My father is a hurricane making love to the ocean. When I am in love I need someone who lies below the waves, ever swirling and present, who knows I am a tag along skiff - small, but still significant. I need someone who is willing to guide me along the deepest parts of life, water coiling around my bow to pull me to safety. That is you.ii. With summer washed words I will tell you of my past and how falling in love is a terrible way to describe the feeling. You don't settle either, you make a journey, you create something. It is something entirely too complex to find a phrase that suits it and I will cry for days over this thought. Please let me embrace this short-term sadness.iii. In many ways I am still broken. I am not where I want to be, but be patient, I am working to get there.iv. You don't fill all the holes in your heart, I understand that now. There will be parts of you that always need to be open because they are more than just holes. They ar
metropolis.In gasoline streets,cities without sleep:the life.Pretty girls so neatit's all camp for me:what life!Passing face with conceitit's all a neon treat.The waltz on concrete,graceful with bare feet.Tonight,ladies kiss and greetas boys buy the suite--delight!It's all so discreetin gasoline streets.Sequins stick to seatsand girls curse the heat:so tight.Beggars want to eatbut they look like cheats:dislike.They are hard to beat:cities without sleep.Chatting with eliteswho have their crime sheets.What life!I want my marqueebut those feelings fleet.The lifein gasoline streets:cities without sleep.
dimensional.Is dreaming worthwhile?The way they show us, mock uswith their conscious lies.Or maybe they're trueshowing us our potential:reality reached.
we're all naked...Everyone should stripto abandon their life's maskand let themselves go.
Celestial Memoriestrust flees from the Earth, dodging the pale moon andarcing over gaseous planets, setting out to escape thisgalaxy…searching for binary stars to settle upon, twininfernus spheres interlocked with each other’s life…Greeks believed the Sun revolved around we[aklings],shoddy excuses for forms of life…knowledgeable of theworld yet ignorant of themselves (and others)…forsakenintelligence lost amidst bleeding hearts and decayingcerebral cortices—trapped in pyramidal waves where thesun hid between bleached stones, shifting sands framinggolden rays—beauty lost in the span of a millennium neverto recover only relapse to supposed greatness…night and day interlocked—chains of humanity bindingtheir status—revolving across twelve times two clocks,dependence choking reality…continuous cycles unbrokendusk to dawn to dusk to dawn verging onto twilight beforethe sun falls and the stars return…as does reali
My StoryI want to rip you apartAnd spread your paper scrapsAll over my floorI'll piece together the lettersA cursive constellationI'll make your story with my own flesh and bloodThen I'll tear you as I wishI want to stain you insideWith permanent markerLet its ink mix inIt'll seize you in its gaping gapNever let you breathe the fumesYou will be my creation for foreverMy diary locked insideI will devour your innardsEven to the marrowNo heartbeat escapesAll your fumbling letters I holdAs it streams out of your mindAs I made your entirety, inside outYou are my story to keepIf I so choose.
Celestial MemoriesCelestial Memories:When we saw stars asSmall bright dotsNot giant balls of fire.Celestial Memories:When we saw the moonAnd thought to ourselves"Who is that man on it?"And now we no longer care.Celestial Memories:When we wonder whyThe Sun leaves at nightBut now we knowIts always there.Celestial Memories,Childhood Memories
Celestial MemoriesThis is a storyI'm sure you all know,About a lovely little womanAnd her Mr. Scarecrow.It all beganIn a small town like any other.Where our main characters lived:A little girl, her father, and her mother.The family livedIn a small farmhouse,In a tiny little town[Yes, fit for a mouse].The children who lived thereWere very close-knit,But when Tabby wanted to joinHer father threw a fit.He would sit her downAnd tell her ever so nicely,"You don't need friends,All you need is family."Then, little TabithaWould walk to her shelfAnd play with her toys...All by herself.Her mother was the only oneWho noticed Tabby's loneliness.She was the only oneWho understood her stress.She tried her bestTo distract Tabby's mind.They played gamesLike pretend and search and find.Sometimes Tabby's motherWould teach her new things:Like sewing, and farming, and working with hay,[The basics for living a pretty nice life]So that maybe, just maybe, on one fateful day,Tabby just migh
Birth of A DreamLove and romance are prominent in the media, literally dripping off the screens and into their viewer's heads. You can find some sort of reference of it in almost every song or movie that is popular among the people. So naturally, when I was a child, I was overloaded with thousands of images of how a real love should be like. Not that I understood it completely though.Growing up, before I even thought about going after boys in real life, I began to wander in my imagination. I would create stories in my head where I, the grown up, mature, super me, would always be saving the day in some sort of predictable storyline. Of course, with my superness, I had many friends who were true, everyone loved me, and the most predictable of all, I always got the guy. I'd labor in my fantasies for hours, meticulously plotting every detail of how I would succeed and win a man's heart. The life in my head was so perfect, it was so fun to make. Eventually, it led to me wanting to become just like my supe
Prom 2014 Part IWelcome to Rising-Artists' 2014 Prom! We had over 100 RSVP's sent to the group, so this feature has been split into two parts (Part II here). Please note that in several cases, only one of two partners sent in their RSVP's, so we were only able to feature one of the partners.Special thanks to our matchmaker Penis-Jam as well as all the admins at Rising-Artists who helped organize and put together this feature. This prom certainly would not have happened without you guys. :iconmyriadwhitedarkness: and :iconBackShelfSouvenir:To BackShelfSouvenir I'm always so wonderfully delighted with your work. Every piece is different, and not at all like anything I've read before. Not to mention I am incredibly delighted to be here at DA prom with you Keep writing and never stop believing in your work! When you least expect it, your pen might save you. Your support has been i
remembering amnesia.Memoriessweet, nostalgiccomforting, embracing, lovinglove, happiness, blank, emptinessstruggling, forcing, pleadingpainful, heart-breakingamnesia