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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.
I locked my heart in a mahogany box and threw away the key.
There was no one to care for - there was nothing left for me.
My heart had ceased beating long ago
after years of misery and pain.
Through countless highs and lecherous lows
I became immune to pounding rain.
I walked without even my shadow as a friend.
Numb to all emotions that surfaced to my skin.
Knowing I would be alone to the bitter end
suffering the consequences of sin.
I was shunned and shamed -
bruised and maimed.
No one cared - no one knew.
No one bothered to change my view.
My life was a silent movie
of a language no one spoke.
With plenty of plot holes for all to see
and an ending of mirrors and smoke.
It was getting hard to catch my breath.
Surely death would be oh so sweet.
Addicted to the thought like Crystal Meth,
it skipped through my head like an erratic beat.
She stumbled upon a key that washed up on the shore.
Wondering what it could unlock.
Determined to solve the riddle and explor
RoseThe greatest romance
Lies in your deep crimson color
Your many petals
Softer than skin
Your sharp thorns
Cause me to bleed
My love for you is infinite
The pain you cause me
Is a pleasure
You may be just a flower
But your beauty
Knows no rival
You AreI am the moon,
And you are the sun,
I pale in comparison to you.
I am a student,
And you are a professor.
I cant keep up with you.
I am a snowflake,
And you are a blizzard,
I will never be like you.
I am a tree,
And you are a fire,
You can destroy me easily.
I am a star,
And you are the universe.
You are simply my everything.
Locks of LoveI haven't cut my hair
Since just before
I walked across the stage
Sixteen months ago.
I grew it out
Because, last summer, you loved
To run your fingers
Through its coppery threads.
That always made me feel
When you left for school again in August,
I couldn't bring myself
To get a haircut.
What if you came back,
And this time, my heart was ready for you?
Mid-semester, you told me that,
While you and your friends
Built your school's bonfire,
It was customary
That no one cut his hair
Or even shaved
Until the structure was finished.
I don't think I told you
That I let mine continue to grow
In your honor, except
I didn't cut it on Burn Day.
When we kissed on Christmas Eve,
You weaved your fingers
Through my silken locks
And made me feel beautiful once more.
I still didn't cut my hair,
Even after you left in March,
Save for the split ends
I trimmed in May,
Hoping to eradicate negative energy
But not wanting to let go of you.
Now it's September.
I shrug into Harry's shirt
underneath my autumn scarf--
cologne on the cuffs bringing
color as I close my eyes,
the brown of his hair,
laughter, pine green.
Fingers on marbled buttons
smooth as the cream
he puts in his chai.
I think of him like rain on a Sunday,
a slow breath uttered in calm,
eyes shut to listen,
he is peace,
stability in grayer moments.
He is the space in my empty bed
I ache for him the way
I crave prayer and
the feel of a rosary.
Epiphanyhearken when healing
from the hurt of love hamstrung
the hander of the handkerchief
may be your heart’s hope
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
To Love a HedgehogI
A hedgehog in the winter,
straw against the wind.
While the heart is warm
its feet are cold.
A hedgehog all alone,
his heart is full of love,
overflowing like sun with warmth,
in the blistering cold.
But to love a hedgehog
is a task for none.
As his love is felt
through the tips of spines.
One day a fox came by
underneath her failing fur
there was hidden heart of gold.
Warm and kind - despite the cold.
“Little hedgehog”, said the fox,
“you straw against the wind
why are you alone
in this uncaring cold?”
“Dear fox” replied our little friend
“My heart is warm
with dreams of love
I don't feel the cold.”
“But little one! What is love
without a friend?
My fur is scant and failing,
but it's warmer than the snow!”
“Go away... my love is pain
felt through the tips of spines
drawing blood; precious warmth
red against the silent snow.”
“But love is pain...
the pain we share together”
and thus they cuddled
togetherburningi love him and it seems like
we are all coming together
in this wide
him all lanky arms and
open spaces – electric skin – power
line veins catch
ing fire against
the golden grass
lim b s
arms spreading some
big togetherburning sky-bridge
him and me and
Some kind of frightful skinandblush
how i love him, how, i
how i love the cacophony
of our time
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
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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