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In which Jonathon Widdum hates his jobAs soon as I had entered the revolting place, I knew I had struck true. The raucous chatter I had heard from the street instantly quelled as the door swung shut behind me. The photographic stillness only lasted a moment as three of the patrons, all of whom I recognised, scraped back their chairs from about the room and stood in their own clumsy rushes to hurry to the door behind the bar.
My eyes fixed onto the tallest of the three, Lloyd Kovach. Just the man I was looking for. He had an awkward frame and this was severely detrimental to his escape. His own chair had toppled backwards as he stood and the man had instantly gotten his spiderlike legs tangled in it. He crashed down like a pylon in a dust storm with a yelp of utter surprise. (Knowing him, I can’t imagine how he remained shocked by his own clumsiness).
I sighed and strolled towards him, tired and exasperated, as he desperately kicked the chair away from himself. He looked over at me, cursed the chair and began crawling
A Heroic Attempt In LoveFinding words for you is the hardest act
But not quite, dear, a careful feat of tact
You see, sweetheart, what I’m trying to say
Is that you’re easy any time of day.
I’m not calling you a slut nor a whore!
I think you something easy to adore:
The wind to my wings if I were a bird,
Meringue to your pie, lemon to your curd.
You are water through my gills, sweetheart dear!
Bright moon; to your gravity I adhere.
Tidal breaths, you keep constant with no fear.
Yes, finding words for you it’s hard. In fact
Writing in iambs has left my mind cracked.
So I’ll come to rest with an easy line.
I love you, I trust you till the end of time.
Perfect FitThis was perfect. Marlowe had managed to silently gather all of the cushions and blankets in the room to curl up in without waking Morlax and now settled down with a satisfied grin on his face. The trickiest part was trying to teleport the other demon’s blanket and pillow from him without causing any disturbance. Fair enough, he’d caused the idiot’s head to collide rather violently with the stone floor when extracting the pillow but thankfully (and probably due to the thickness of his skull) it did not wake him.
A few peaceful minutes of relaxation had passed and Marlowe was just drifting off to sleep when he heard a mumble and a grunt and the sound of somebody sitting up. ‘Oh crap,’ Marlowe cursed to himself, ‘here he comes.’
“Marley!” He whined. “Let me in there!” His voice was even more grating than usual with the parched tone of tiredness.
Marlowe pulled his nest around him tightly, scowling against his pillow.
.The clean, deep, eternal colour encapsulates his hate
And he is hate, pure and defined.
His oil black crawls over my skin,
It's contours caressed by his passion for pain
And his intent violates every inch of my body.
In awe, stunned, I take him in
Like sweet smoke to turn my lungs to tar,
My heart to ash,
Leading my soul eight levels down to his erotic love for death.
Like a necrophiliac, he loves those he kills inside.
He loves me most of all;
Below himself of course.
Below him and welcoming his poison nectar
Clean, deep and eternal on my lips.
Glassware PinesMy fragile heart stands vigil
Searching out such soft, sublime majesty.
Alone in a forest of glass and ice;
Watching the curve of the pale earth/sky line,
Silent in its longing for your gentle glow.
Heart strings tugged in agony to your beating core.
Warm love, glistening on the delicate pines:
I adore thee.
No Matter LoveI.
I'm the comet that appeared for the first time
that will never return
through the judgment of your life,
only to have you receive what I bring
as the love you long to take and return
before the ice dust from my departure
fades for all time.
Through the slender-necked sitar's silvery notes
pass the fragrance of our moonstruck limbs
surrendering to the breezes
that play off a river that honors
the generations of lovers we now embody.
You were the fallen angel that waited so long,
knowing I'd be found,
to resuscitate and raise you up;
Not from whence you toppled,
but to couple in a holy damnation
and welcome in celebration
and never regret, no matter.
you're the reason for my fraying edgesA piece of me snagged
on your fingertips, now
I'm spending the rest
of my life unraveling
Hello For The First TimeHello For The First Time
hello for the first time, stranger.
we didn’t meet with a passing glance,
but by unexpected discovery.
hearts once attached to others’,
i said we should’ve been best friends
because our wavelengths
were tied together by some cosmic thread
then, that was just a poetic thought.
the new year had just arrived
and i was feeling inspired
and hey, you caught me at the right time.
or i caught you,
or whatever it was.
hello for the first time, acquaintance.
our first interaction was met with appreciation
for a comment and a favorite.
i thanked you for the time you spent
reading whatever creation
i had shared in those moments
and it was nice to meet you again, miss.
The name’s Ricky,
I’m glad to make your acquaintance.
hello for the first time, my friend.
i first met you when discussing college,
what you wanted to be
and the enigma that was your future.
your plans were random currents
and mine were wrapped in static.
hello for the fir
bad habitsi chew up keratin claws
and spit out lead nails
like letters laced with
a twine of tawny truths
and the smack of gums
forming lewd lilac lies.
you bite your sodden
to the stem of bone,
peeling layers of
paint-stained skin with
i often wonder
how my fingertips
morph metaphors with
awry alliteration while
your palms paint
purpled pastels and
my fractured wrists creak
and porcelain ghost
lines stripe your
autumn brushed skin
yet somehow, together,
we still create beauty.
PicturesqueThe smell of the fire curls in my lungs, purring
like a tabby kitten. Roasting marshmallows
crisp on the ends of our sticks as I lean
against you, our heat mingling like the smoke
rising to the sky. Your eyes twinkle as you talk,
your hands gesturing widely, and the marshmallow
flies into the woods. We clutch our stomachs
as we laugh in harmony, our voices twining
together in the silence of the night.
About a girl(French version below)
Naiad, braving the tumultuous streams without risk
Your crystalline beauty illuminates these shabby, spineless and muddy reeds,
The softness of your skin like a caress that even the sea air couldn't bring me;
Oh My, I'd like to snatch this ivy leaf which covers you way too much!
I accomplished the most perilous labour just by staring at you;
My Hesperide, your breathtakingly high curves entice this pilgrim, blinded mortal,
And force naked and fool men to carry their own Iliad out to conquer you.
The singing of your voice shall guide us through this long, calm watercourse to the Elysium.
Your smile, forbidden sin, makes me break all my oathes.
For a brief moment, I vow to let myself be fooled by these pipe dreams of fantasy -
I want to dedicate this lyric song you've inspired me to the Gods, Polyhymnia,
You got me sailing on the river of dreams.
About a girl
Naïade, bravant sans péril les flots tumultueux
SanctuaryVines stretched between her fingertips
Flowered fields grew at her word
and I swore that the galaxies lived in her eyes.
Starlight was the laughter that she breathed,
A universe of its own
Framed by the graceful arc of her parted lips.
Her movements were the gentle ocean waves
and daylight played off her skin,
Even in the darkest corners of the night.
A lion's roar was found in the screech of her cry,
and waterfalls trickled from her delicate lashes.
Mountains settled on her sloping brow,
her arms became the atmosphere I couldn't believe I ever lived without,
and a new world built itself upon her beauty
each and every day.
And so when the realm around me became too small,
I found my sanctuary in her.
Awaiting the DawnThe silence that shrouds him every night is cold
Day's very own winter is as serene as the season itself.
Something so very vital, absent
Like the warmth of a full summer sun
Yearned for in barren months.
And here he lies mute and far from the sun kissed dawn,
Far from his symphony,
So far from a promised summer.
Lids fall over a searching gaze,
A lie so vital unwinds
But still the silence
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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