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Cold at FourIs there a technical term for a harp maker?
If there isn't, it's you, as a body, that canine
Your name doesn't
ring right but it's what you do with it that counts:
I tumbled around it and never said it at the correct second, like the
cuboid-skulled choirgirl a note behind, loud and disgusting. A faulty
The banal usurping of my bookish tongue
came on quick.
I'm very sorry.
Everything scratched backwards and now my spine streams
from my throat, cursive handwriting.
Scored in your scalp:
the clicking of toes, falling asleep in the hands of metal men,
forgotten criminality, barbed wire telephones -.
you look like so many faces -
for all I know you don't exist except in broken chairs.
The Maritodespotic PathI am naked beneath my coat of armour.
I woke and thought it was the sickness
I'd had before - my lips had never burned
The ghost of your dog came to me
last night, while I dreamed;
it burst into grey dust and
told me my bulimic piano solos were beautiful.
Dancing under the pregnant sky,
a waning gibbous belly crowned
with violet cloth,
I converse with the moon -
deep, dark French.
I love to speak
to hunted rabbits
and unlit trees.
WitchMy belletrist, little hunched cardigan-drenched
finch, he says, Mess, blooded with French shores and burned cakes,
don't you come to my hand anymore,
crying poppies from sallow ducts, my tiny soil-saviour?
- he touches his own ass-ears with his spiked teeth
and pets me 'til I'm salmon, sunset -
Sleep in my bed, stocky moth,
cease your painting, beetle queen, queenly slut,
turned frizzy in the process of sharpening the sea,
mouth your watercolours and hose down the wall
- I am ill of him, his eating
makes me a murderer -
Newborn kettle-coffee throws a kiss
and our son climbs my sullen thighs;
I doubt we will fall out of love,
the spiders we are.
The WoodsThey were shaped like humans, humans with rat-tail hair or weeping willow spines or long hungry feet, and they danced around her, carried on her fearful imagination. She could taste their wicked delight and she cried, paralysed as they fed upon the chilled currents of winter walks. The little wolves spun up her ankles and took on her thighs; nothing left unexplored for them or her, a vicious loving in the trees. She met the thick loam with her knees and stayed upright, her hollowed body becoming the only memory anyone might ever have of her.
These are the woods where the children come to die. These are the shadows where grey-faced sleep waits, never speaking, never turning. The children fall into the grim peace and no one can follow their red toes into the shroud.
Vulva SongThe curtains are never drawn in the spare room.
Why aren't you coming, why aren't you sitting on the edge of the bath keeping watch right through me?
I feel the carpet and soak up every silent look, store them under my toenails, and I miss you. You exploded,
the bees in the lavender bush are all that's left of you.
Articulated PointsOne year after I met you -
Ill, stricken, your chocolate orange lies
castling across my joints,
I break concave dandelion, seeds
splashing under my gambling shoes.
One year, one month -
They may lay their hides over your favourite
city garden walks, might leave hopeful lip prints
on the glass in your sturdy museum holidays, spit
love-letter typefaces down their ankles or hum in the grey
cold to stay awake for surgery,
and I will coagulate with my dresses,
The 30we break each other with kisses
to open, to bruise, to overcome our bodies
there's only sighs and impressions,
just love love love
and urges and slowness and pushes and eyes sink
we are infinite in an indefinite intimate form
melting moans, scraped skin, salacious tissue red and white
we're losing edges, where might I begin? but you are
completely my dear, my love love love again
Steve x readerHi hi! First story on here, whoop!
(y/n) was simple. She didn't like too much attention, but she enjoyed it, just like any other person.
However, if given unwanted attention from the wrong people, things can get ugly.
"Come on, babe. One dinner," Tony Stark whined. (y/n) often ran errands at Stark Tower for the Director, Nick Fury. And every time she would step one foot into a room Tony Stark was in, the first thing she would hear would be Tony asking her on a date. She thought she had heard every pick up line there was.
"You look nice in that SHIELD suit. It would look nicer on my floor," He winked. (y/n) crinkled her nose. The Captain America looked up at the two from the couch. He recognized (y/n), whom he had seen sometimes around the Tower. They had grown to be friends.
"No thanks..Tony. I literally tell you that everytime." She sighed and walked over to the fridge.
"Are you sure you don't want to go out tonight, darling?" He drawled, placing a hand under his chin.
Good...but not good enoughI will sacrifice my heart and mind
You will always come first, I'll try to accommodate your every need and desire.
Sometimes I'll come up short and I'll fail because I'm good just not good enough.
I'll be your secrete because deep down you are ashamed of me.
I fulfill so many of your needs but fall short on some because I'm good just not good enough.
I have a pure heart but an ugly body.
You'll look past that at first but not for long.
You will take every ounce of love and compassion I give you and rarely reciprocate because I'm good just not good enough.
You will live in my protection but ignore my affection wanting more than I can offer.
You will grow weary of my appearance and frustrated with my short comings
because I'm good just not good enough.
You will keep me around for what I offer but give your affection away to others.
Eventually you will destroy my hopes and dreams, my heart and soul and I'll ask why? because I'm good just not good enough.
In the heat of time
Slides and joins
Touches and moves
Joining and dividing
Stiffens and hardens
Best love i've ever had.In love im falling,
Your fall of grace.
Your sexy smile,
your lovely face,
Your big dark eyes,
The hurt you suffered, there isn't a trace.
Other guys wouldn't understand.
But i did from the moment, i first held your hand.
Sometimes your angry, sometimes your sad,
but everyday i know, your the best love I've ever had.
The dissolutionThis honestly still seems really unfinished to me...
This is about socially imposed ideologies, such as zeitgeists. It's about various contemporary elements of our social paradigm ingrained within our belief system when we were innocently receptive and unable to question their validity.
It's about shedding those ideals and allowing for independent discovery.
(It still needs revising, to me it seems a little insubstantial.)
I feel like plastic uniformity
A generic sculpture of conformity
A toy soldier
Melting in a burning building
Eye's wide, unseeing
Limbs strong, unmoving
Heart beating faster as I begin to melt
Oh dysphoria, release me
Skin dripping like wax
My mold: broken
As my husk falls away
And the certainty of my dissolution solidifies
As I become more
A viscous mass
An amorphous, liquid entity
But I am not sad to see you go, machine
I'm escaping from the dream
Formless and free
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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