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canis lupus"all the better to see you with"
your eyes like ankle weights enthralled her---
save the lonely girl,
put her out of her misery
with her own helium kisses
(she likes the dark, it's in her eyes and
you can show her depth---
i dare you)
the devil's in your gaze;
his fingers in your throat, he's watching
(can you feel the knuckles pressing
in your lungs?)
"all the better to
slit your wrists and suck you dry"
all the better to feel your fingers
dancing with the devil's hands---
he loves how you love
the way her fingers taste in your stomach
(she walks like wolves are after her,
you know she knows you're waiting)
don't be foolish
she walks with spiders and talks to trees,
her legs like tendrils reaching through the soil,
she knows this place---
she's heard of you and your teeth,
and her doe eyes see right through you to the
nerves sewn in your cortex,
to the scorpion-tango of instinct and survival
branded across the notches in your backbone;
she's slept in foxhol
spidershe walks with spiders,
marching along baseboard cracks they hide their webs
in the back of her mind, the
cavity behind her throat
they bind her voice in silk
she walks in step
two by eight she knows
how they feed at night she doesn't know
how to live here,
doesn't know secrets
how to starve with class, she pretends she isn't brittle
i pretend she lives there now
she doesn't know me
doesn't know how to smile my name
peeking through the windows of her eyes,
gaps in teeth
how they shiver every day
how they shiver
all the time
how they shiver when she's cold
she's always cold,
my fingers freeze around her wrists
my palms pressed to bones stuck like bear traps
she walks with
legs like spiders,
spindles creaking across floorboards in
carpet tacks she steps around
navigating webs she won't be caught
she walks with them
knows their secret goose steps
she marches with class
two by eight she knows
how they feed
bloodyou're ages older than your namesake;
i hear your bones rattle in your sleep,
shaking in time with old songs
we used to sing together,
but our blood is thin,
frayed ties too tired to tether us together---
you're growing up too fast
(i never knew you,
just the salt-tracks of your tears
cutting down the lines of your faded smile)
we're not perfect, are we? do you
remember when i cried you to sleep?
we played assassin in the halls,
shooting across banisters;
we chased our folded ambition across
welded to our perches, pulling triggers
we buried our secret wars; we
only held hands in pictures,
white flags pinned to our shirt sleeves,
hearts buried with surrender
(our blood is seeping through the
frames on the walls; it's
thinner than ink, we'll be safe
if we keep it inside us)
do you remember when we
sang ourselves to sleep?
we were dissonant and proud with cracking voices;
we never knew lullabies,
just off-key harmonies
splintering their way into the bones
wallsthis house is made of
glass bones and windowpanes---
we're hiding in spectacle; we're
hiding our voices behind crystal sheetrock
("i can't hear you")
i can still see your fingers
skipping beats across your cheekbones
(you paint portraits with fingerprints,
pressing patterns into faces met in dreams)
you're different now,
butterfly turned silkworm with age---
faded monarch, you're no majesty
(you're made of spiders, little legs
linked and stacked---
there are cobwebs in your eyes,
you can only see in dreams)
we're hiding in vacuums and
pressure-treated walls, locked in silence like
we knew what we were doing when we
and started leading fragile lives,
shards of who we were
patching cracks in tempered floors
(we're made of glass and
we sit still for fear of falling)
our lives are printed on the walls,
places where our hands have held us up,
half-remembered journeys around rooms
from before we forgot that we were leaving---
now we'll stay here, now we're trapped
crumbled columnsmars is on his knees waving surrender,
god of war turned timid lover, he is
begging you to look away
(i can't see you like this, i can't
see you splintering---
i should have known you'd
fray at the edges)
don't say those broken words;
save your voice for lullabies
printed in history books
out of tune with comfort--
you're not happy here
i've seen broken
wildernesses struck like piano keys;
the sharp notes resonate through the
branches in my spine;
have you heard about the falling pantheon?
they tumbled through the forest leaving
us alone, we're alone, we're not strong enough for this;
you're not strong enough for this, and
i can't carry you;
save your voice:
don't call for help, there's no one there---
we're alone here
everything is black;
we used to be bright red brushed across night's canvas,
now we're helpless,
now we're running out of words, and ther's nothing left to say,
there's no one here to hear us, so
save your voice
(we can whisper with our withered tongues,
we'll remember o
frail wingshey icarus---
you knew you'd fail,
you had that flaw
(don't admit you were wrong,
apology's a sign of weakness)
you're stronger than that
dad had bold words,
warnings as stark and cold as
the sea sent to swallow you,
digested from legend to myth
you should have asked me
what the sky felt like;
i would have told you
even birds only come up for a moment
(no one wants to be where they belong)
this is you spinning down in
your own twilight, little bird,
"you deserved it"
he let this happen
you weren't built to last---
you were built with knees and
made for corrosion, and i bet
you didn't know you're bones are hollow
(had you asked, you'd have known:
you weren't made for the sea,
you weren't made for the sky;
you were made of match sticks and splinters)
"don't fly too high"
you knew you would, you knew you'd fail;
there are more than just sirens out here
and you haven't earned your feathers,
so you should have asked
what the sky felt like so
you could be prepared
(i could have
ScaredI’m scared to go to sleep at night,
Afraid to close my eyes,
Instead I stay awake and watch,
The honey gold sun rise.
I’ve banished all the nightmares,
I don’t fear them anymore,
Happy memories await me,
In the dreamy land of Lore,
I don’t want to see these happy times,
So that I cry myself awake,
It’s strange how happy can mean sad,
And being fine can make you break.
Writing Is MagicWings take flight
Right off the page
Flying toward the sky
As the words escape my mind.
Pen touches the crisp paper
Magic begins to glow
From the tip of my wand
Bringing thoughts to life.
Imagery imprints the mind
Visualizing words to picture
Transforming into a story
Becoming a part of the tale.
Each word written
Is like a verbal tale
That becomes a spell
Hocus pocus, abra-imagia.
Reading each line
The eyes chow down
The mind digests
As the soul feels.
Words speak more than action
Strikes harder than a sword
Touches the soul from within
Can bring tears to the eyes.
Words can be used good or bad
Its just how we use them
To inspire or dispire
Help or ignore.
They can inspire us
Intrigue us with mystery
Make us laugh with joy
When their arranged oddly.
Words can heal us
More than medicine
For stories and poems
Fascinate and lure us
Like sirens singing to sailors.
Words formed together
To form a sentence
Like a spell forming
To create a crystal
Letting it shine bright
In the sunlight.
Untitled With a Sense of PurposeUntitled With a Sense of Purpose
I find myself drinking coffee that tastes of Monday mornings,
Yet I have not risen early in what seems like
The extra sugar could lead to health complications-
Like most of life's pleasures.
Regardless, I take my coffee the same.
You were worse than any overdose
two, three, ten times as bad but
you took far longer than coffee to leave my system-
I would probably take you the same again.
City of LiesOne more day in this city of lies,
Take off your mask—it's your only disguise.
A short time left, oh what a surprise—
Look how time flies—
One more day before it all dies.
A Guide To Understanding ArtistsI did not create this, i found it and because I loved it so much I asked the lovely artist who wrote it if I could repost it. :3
This was actually written by :iconMimibert:
Please read carefully:
Each sketch or doodle is important
So don't say the following:
"It's just a sketch. Can't I have it? You won't miss it!"
Or you will end up with freshly sharpened pencils up your ass
Artist get attached to things they create
Much like mothers and their babies
Remember that It's cruel to separate parents and children until the children are old enough to go out on their own
Until that day
DO NOT ask for art until it has matured and is ready to leave the nest
If you ask an artist to look through their sketchbook one of the three things will happen:
A) you will be given a stone cold glare, indicating how stupid the question really was
B) you will be allowed to peek at selec
agnostic (warning if your religious)Why I'm agnostic;
I have never had my prayers answered when needed most.
I never understood church's.
I don't like church's,
Reasons why I don't like church's;
people feel like god is going to fix everything and that he controls our roads and roles in life when personally the road is ours to choose and go on.
the church has done many bad things in the name of god as in cancel allot of the L.G.B.T out of some church's cause they are god veering but in the end I thought we were all humans made by god and I always heard in church that god loves all of us but then why are people cut out of church and are god veering?
And most of my actual father figures in my life would just end up being corrupted by drug's, hookers, lies, and being domestically violent to their partners and made them selves seem like good people cause they were a good christian boy but I learned how to see through that.
Also who am I to say there is a god or a Jesus I mean I'm just one voice in a sky of millions. Also I l
Shadow and me 2:back and badder than ever:ch.2I woke up and saw that shadow wasn't there.there was a note that said
G.u.n needed me be back soon if you have promble call me.
I decided to go to the park when I was there I meet someone strange ."hello I'm Michelle."I turn around and saw a purple hedgehog."I'm shadow friend.you must be his girlfriend.Violet…right?" "Yes."how do you know me?"I asked.but what I didn't know was that,that was mephials in disgust and scourge was in a tree hiding."Shadow told me alot about you he said that your bueatiful girl and very talented."he said."he did?" "Yes and I think thats all true."he said."well…thanks."I said blushing."we both sat on a bench."so what do you like to do violet?." "Well I like video games,singing,dance and swimming."I told him."so you like music?"he ask me."love it." I said.just then his phone rang.that was the signal that he had to leave."hey violet I got to go.want to hang out on Wednesday?"he ask me."sure." I said.they he left.
"So did the plan work
teen-angst bullshitthere’s a teenager at the microphone.
and god, the crowd knows it.
sitting back, they’ve already judged.
it’ll be teen-angst bullshit, they say.
some overemotional, hormonal kid whining about what she doesn’t have.
then they tell the kid she has everything.
how dare she complain?
how dare she stand at the mic and challenge?
how dare she preach her teen-angst bullshit as if it were a gift?
how dare she be anything other than a rose under a glass case?
and even though her petals are falling,
even though she sees through the garden to the street and the rain and the dirt
the broken fences and broken glass
broken people broken places broken souls
even though her words are duct tape she’s fixing the fences
fixing the glass
she knows she can’t fix the people
but she tries
words pouring from her mouth, into the microphone into the ears of the crowd
frequencies combining, overlapping
rising falling volume cascading more than the breath from a scream
The Kingdom of Luck and ChanceLuck is a kingdom strange and capricious,
Ruled by the whim of the most superstitious.
The law is abstruse and vague at best;
Every rule made could be anyone's guess.
The king and queen of the indecisive kind
Had never even once made up their minds.
Civil war solved by a roll of the die,
A flip of the coin judges criminals' lives.
The nobles, unsure about what to do,
Voted and argued based on their mood.
Rain or sun determined no or yes,
Logic and reason fell to whim and guess.
Peasants who feel that luck is their labor -
Wanting the wind and weather in their favor
And wanting good food and the finest clothes -
Never work, but wait for luck to bring them those.
Luck is a kingdom strange and erratic,
Failures prominent and successes sporadic.
To those who consider Luck a trustworthy friend,
Beware - for Luck may fail you in the end.
stage frightthe edges peel off every once in a while;
i stick them back together,
press my thumbs down, say i've fixed it---
but it's peeling, fraying,
sliding apart at the seams;
the blurry edges of my vision make me nervous,
make me shake and worry
(i am marble-cut and resolute,
somehow, i'm okay with sentences like puzzle pieces
"you're not okay"
it's addiction, you know,
"this is love"
is this love?
is this ever going to change?
my symptoms are showing
(stage directions: clench fists and
beat holes in the floorboards;
be careful of the bones, they're thin now,
plaster dust packed in a chalky mess
too brittle to serve as framework anymore,
the knees collapse together, tired lovers
sick of swinging back and forth)
act one, scene one:
i never meant for this to happen,
"i don't love you"
the scenery is bleak and minimal,
the cast is laid along the floor in tombstone rows,
players for the damned,
hissing whispered syllables
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More