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The Ringslender, tarnished silver band
rests in palm of withered hand
ancient promise, absent stare
detritus falls like snow on hair
wedding present grand oak bed
ghosts of words the mirror said
rain-rot splintered windowsills
caustic crumbs of guilty pills
footprints in the carpet dust
canopy of velvet shame
the progeny of lies and tears
divests her of her souvenirs
and grateful for the life she gave
the heirloom never meets the grave
GlistenTwinkle in my eyes as they glide
your face so sweet, lips to meet
shiver at the warm breath, sunsets and tourniquets.
drop from your lips
the angle of your hips
the way you stand
and where your hands fall
Arms entwined, trellis and vine
retro fiction flesh addiction
slide, glide and glisten.
Hot breath penetrates your ear
and you will hear it if you listen.
I whisper, "I love you" and I mean it
with the soles of my feet,
ankle and calf meet, weak at the knees
oh the love, with my knees and all of the above
and when the time comes
it'll mean something.
Embrace, sky holds the upturned face
caress it with soft slips of rain, drips
A moment too good to miss and this rain-hatched kiss
lives on these lips, in this heart,
tasting the playback, start to end, end to start
lost in the moment
and in the rain we glisten.
InspiredHollow taps of raindrops against old panes of glass
plummet through the atmosphere to saturate the grass.
The scent spills like determined fog through every chip and crack,
carrying with it the surge of inspiration that I lack:
the smell of rain, the deepened greens,
the mist that lingers in the air,
create the sweet, familiar scenes;
imbue me with the poet's flair!
So conjure up some candlelight
to cut the gloomy haze,
and with a quill in hand, tonight
I'll scribble to amaze.
I can stop it anytimeShe was 13.
She was 13 years old, still a child, when I found the syringes in her bedroom.
In the bedroom of a child.
I took them in my hands, they were so weightless, so colorful, they appeared harmless, but I knew they weren't.
They were so dangerous, more dangerous than the alcohol I consumed, more dangerous than the cigarettes I smoked.
I showed them to her, and she shrugged.
"Don't act like it's something bad", she said. "I can stop it anytime, if I want to."
Later I searched my purse, searched it everywhere, but couldn't find it.
I asked her, and she looked at me innocently and said she doesn't know.
But I knew that she was lying.
She was stealing my money to buy more heroin.
Her friend was with her, and looked at her, at me, at her again.
It was her only friend, even though she once was the most popular girl at school.
But nobody wants to have to do something with someone who's taking drugs.
Her last friend left her when she was 16.
She was all alone now, was stealing, had to go
So Called Friends.I was there for you,
So why werent you for me?
I dropped everything when you called,
So why not for me?
I made time for you guys,
So why didnt I get the same?
When I smiled and laughed,
What about you?
My laughter and happiness,
Was yours at me not with?
When I thought I could trust you,
Were you merely telling others?
I thought you were my friends,
Were we friends?
The laughing, the taunting and the name calling,
Was everything we had just pretend to know my secrets?
You guy's turned out to be my so called 'friends',
Why did you want to hurt me, use me and taunt me?
Am I nothing more than a mere puppet on strings?
Was I the one you thought you could use?
The Lost Air of Temptation Meet temptation, though I'm sure you know him. He's always lurking, just in front of you and five steps behind. No matter what you do, you'll never shake him off. Memories of his lips, soft and pressing against yours, fill your mind as you see him out of the corner of your eye. When he stands on that dusty street corner, the sunlight filters through his dark hair and charges the copper lying there. His skin is pale and smooth and his eyes wicked and glinting. Glinting with the sin which lies in wait for you, as you wield to his whims.
Meet innocence, perhaps you once knew him. He's not really that present anymore, he moves away from you as you get older, preferring to laugh with babies as they gurgle in their cribs. His eyes spark memories in your aged mind of a fresh dawn and looming horizon. When he smiles you know that whatever you do, you cannot go wrong. Maybe one day you'll see him, spinning in wide circles and dancing in stretching green fields. Then agai
Contest Entry: Trust MeBrandon and Jack did everything 'just to try it once'. They had been friends since middle school, nearly twenty years ago, and kept no secret or experience from one another. They shared everything.
So when Brandon invited himself over to Jack's house and admitted shyly that he was developing an interest in bondage, naturally Jack insisted that they try it out together.
"Are you sure?" Brandon asked, biting his lip. He was by far the more introverted of the two, despite being a full seven inches taller than Jack, and far more heavily built. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to..."
"Are we friends, or are we?" Jack asked, laughing. He was a small, wiry man with a wild mop of brown hair and brilliant blue eyes that always seemed to be smiling. "I don't mind at all, buddy. When did you want to do this?"
"Are you doing anything right now?" Brandon asked, shifting on the c
Letters From LifeDear Noah,
We could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving till 5.
Dear White People,
Don't you just hate immigrants?
Dear Twilight fans,
Please realize that because vampires are dead and have no blood pumping through them, they can never get an erection. Enjoy fantasizing about that.
Sorry to hear about the global warming. Karma's a bitch.
Dear America ,
You produced Miley Cyrus. Bieber is your punishment.
I've never heard anyone say, "I don't know, let's Yahoo! it..." just saying...
Dear girls who have been dumped,
There are plenty of fish in the sea... Just kidding! They're all dead.
I liked it, so I put a ring on it.
Dear Skin-Colored Band Aids,
Please make one for every skin color.
I feel your pain.....no one wants to run with me either.
Short Slendy Stories: Little SamanthaStop.
Don't breathe, he can hear you.
Don't hide, he'll find you.
The little girl couldn't help herself. She ran as fast as she could down the pavement, her shoes slamming against the cool concrete side walk.
Almost there, she thought. Her lungs about to burst from the screams that escaped her lips in the forest. Memories began to flood back into her mind as she panted louder. Her mother had yelled at this little blonde girl until her voice became hoarse. With her mother doing this, she ran into the forest for some peace and quiet. She had forgotten a jacket at home, so her pale, skinny arms were vulnerable to the cold winds of the night. In the distance, an owl hooted and startled the girl. What this little girl did not know was the evil that lingered in the trees. Her head jerked around, as if someone was stalking her. A crunch of a leaf ahead of her led her to believe that someone- or something- was roaming around her.
"There's no one here..." she whispered to herself as anoth
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