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eighty-threedivide such a number as
and you get 15;
used to be
my way home.
Home to the cold,
where every season
has a smell:
autumn is not an
overnight sensation but a
kick-back in the kayak and
watch the water
dazzling in color;
decay begins but never
overwhelms the senses
because cold takes over.
The smell of
and pending snow storms,
this is the smell of
wood fires and
it is intoxicating.
In creeps spring,
and filled with
funnel cakes and
festivals for every
never welcomes me
where one ends the other
can't help but begin.
breaks what once was
the songwriters were correct:
sometimes love just isn't enough.
they don't have all the answers,
those writers and musicians,
artists of all trades;
muses flee from the worst
Hollywood fills the void
until, if ever it happens,
an undesired voice
how does one end
what has no
permission to hatequestions supersede the answers,
those that don't exist -
no one can explain WHY though
many try to:
it was just his time;
God has bigger plans;
To everything there is a season
has been busy
still the inklings of a
Christian upbringing have me wondering:
is it possible for God to understand?
If the stories are true, if
faith takes precedence over
didn't God lose her son,
her only son,
to such a violent death?
And if the stories are true,
if God's emotional spectrum can
resemble the human one,
can this God understand what it means
to lose a son,
her only son,
to a sudden, unexpected death,
violently executed by an
Improvised Explosive Device?
Or is it possible that
this very God actually
sacrificed his child
thereby disqualifying him from
responding in any way
except to sit there
and take the beating?
unraveling deathevery now and then I
thinking your name
unravels my whole world.
A life lost -
taken, really -
by those pesky
and everyone has
about the occupation,
of Iraq and
I'd like to hit the next
person who articulates
their views on war
on bombs and purpose -
I think you'd do the same
the USMCpeanut butter and jelly will
never be the same
and I confess that
I love you for its
tearful memories -
countless afternoons on the
my brother's bedroom,
the swimming pool and
high school hallways
where you will
We are indebted to
your laughter and
the mischief that transpired
as soon as you entered a room.
dear friend, and we
who live on
will put together the pieces,
broken and beautiful,
that remain -
We love you,
exChristian testimonysomeone once asked
I keep my cross
He seemed relatively
certain as to
I wore one (two actually) to
Despite sudden inclinations to
throw Jesus at this man,
beat him with his own
leather bound Bible,
I tucked my chain inside my shirt,
One belonged to my brother,
was a gift.
And I don't need to broadcast
what I believe
chances are no one,
not even you,
True to the accusation,
he smiled and said,
suturedwords set in motion the
undoing of devotion,
how can i stop the
inundating commotion of the
back and forth
his and hers
dividing those things we
never really owned.
emotional rampage, i am
questioning our intentions
to keep things civil,
my brain is riddled
the possibilities are endless,
over memories that haven't
blockedwhere are you dear
pin prick of inspiration?
words once blanketed my tears
forcing together letters
confessing nothing while
yearning to tell it all.
why have you abandoned me,
i have forgotten how to forgive myselfdo you remember?
i was the first to
show you the shape of your
i carved my
initials into your
pericardium and left
your chest gaping.
you, a fish out of water,
your soft belly exposed to
i left you
drowning in love for
At NightWe float about
on light and airy clothing
skin-toned in the starlight,
flying away from the dawn,
Never quite getting away.
At His SideAt His Side
Dictated by Puabi
Nowhere better to be
Nobody warmer to love
Nothing better to do
Than to be at his side
Night and day
Who I NeededI put my faith in you
Like I knew all along I was wrong to do.
I guess when something seems too good to be true
I should heed all the signs and get out.
I think in my loneliness
I needed you.
I thought I did, anyway.
I'd never felt worthy of anything but the barest of affections,
And you taught me that I deserved more.
But then you became just like him
And the one before
And the one before that.
You took me for granted,
As I waited for each scrap of attention.
And it was bedlam,
A war in my mind
And against my heart.
I'm not even sure to this day which was on which side.
Because I knew I deserved better,
You taught me that,
But in that teaching you'd always seemed to care,
And I began to not know up from down,
So I kept silent.
If I never acknowledged it, it wasn't true.
But eventually I realized I couldn't go on in that way,
Who had saved me in so many ways,
Were killing me.
It was slowly, but it was surely.
And still, I'd hoped I was wrong,
Prayed to whoever would listen to
The Conversation, Part IThere’s just this one thing I know –
And so I want you to believe this,
That this is for real – I really mean it
When I say that I love you, need you;
I mean that you’re the best thing
to ever happen to me, honestly.
It’s ridiculous, but I have to be
Completely open in these confessions,
That being around you gets me high
And not just from the pills we take,
the cigarettes we smoke,
But your presence is enough to
Make my day when I’m messed up.
Let’s go out and become intoxicated,
Spend the evening walking city streets,
So I can tell you under darkness
All the things I can’t say in daylight,
Because the nights feel like a dream
when you’re making me want you
With just a look, not even any words.
Maybe I knew it from the start –
Something tells me I almost predicted it;
When you told me you can’t stand bullshit,
That you’re interested and won’t lie,
When you call me silk-lips and ask me
Blood Lust (creepy pasta fan fiction! love pt 1)One day a girl named Hannah was walking home with her youngest brother Jake. They walked around town trying to find a quicker way home, but ended up getting lost.
"I knew listening to you wouldn't help!"
Jake yelled at Hannah tears streaming down his cheeks. She walked over to her little brother and hugged him tightly.
"Sh.... Jake, we will find our way home I promise you..."
In reality she knew they would never find their way home. He smiles as she wipes his tears away and hugs her tightly.
"Now come on Jake we better get moving, it's suppose to get below freezing by midnight."
She says a worried look in her eyes. He nods ad holds her hand tightly as they keep walking. They end up walking through the woods by midnight they find a mansion as they shiver. Hannah walks up to the mansion and knocks on the front door politely calling out.
She calls out shivering as the front door opens and a Blonde haired guy opens it. He looks at Hannah and Jake and rudely asks.
"What the f
PeaceHis has grazed over my skin,
And gave me chills
He was loving to the core,
And he was mine,
And I was his
He pinned me under neith,
Kissing the hidden feilds of skin
My besrth got shallow
His grin lashed across my skin
His warm lips were silk
One hand of his rested on my cheek,
The other on the curve of my waist
I could feel my breath catch in my throat
His mussel pressed against my tiny body
I could feel my close being slide off
He licked the shell of my ear
My breath caught
My cloths disappeared, as his did
I couldn't think,
My head was working at a million miles,
All I wanted was him
He was the joy of my day,
Hope to my night
And the love of my life
This was right
He was my future,
My greatest goal in the game of life
His hands glided like air over my stomach
His lips kissed ever inch of my face
His love guided me to my dreams
He was perfect
An angle from Heaven
I set my small hands on his warm,
His eyes twinkled like stars
His lips m
Why the Caged Bird SingsWhy the Caged Bird Sings
The world is just like a faint panorama;
The grating suppresses every part of the nomadic soul.
Of the craziness that they live through, unbound:
Lost inside the painful boundary line.
A feeble urge rises to break the rules.
A moist dream to roam again through the endless void,
Of the cloudy sky.
To feel itself again a part of the old, flourishing blue;
That once kept its busy wings clean.
With no other way to live the dreams it dreamt,
The gloomy bird blows the air through its throat.
And through the larynx, when it rushes aboard,
It lets the whistle out.
KatarzynaNa zdobnych zielenią alejach spoczywam
gdzie rzewnie za spódniczkami zerkam
Gorsy ich sukien wzrokiem dosięgam
kołyszą się niby koromysła
Na spodzie zatrzymuję się, nieprzystojnie
Wtem zjawiłaś się niespodzianie
Swym wejrzeniem chwyciłaś mnie
Miriadami barw mieniło się
nade wszystkim - błękitem Nieba, bezkresem
ciszy morza ukojeniem, jego bezmiaru trwogi powiewem
Bystre, rozwagą przyszarzałe – baczne spojrzenie
Zaklęty z werwą, z miejsca powstanę
Z Tobą pójść pragnę!
Umyślić się, zajść na wieczerzę
Tam gwałtowanie przystąpię do Ciebie
pocałuję nieobyczajnie – Najdroższa
Ramieniem pochwycę, otulę, zawładnę
Po czym palącą mnie żądzę powściągnę
Ustami pogładzę oblicze twe nadobne
unexpressed gratituderemember that afternoon i called you,
too weak to make it home and we
ended up going to the hospital,
by my side you stayed
through sickness and health?
and my birthday, when you listened to
what makes me happy
forgave me for my bad decision
a few days later, you
countless times you went
above my expectations to make me
smile, to bring me
security, to remind me that love
is not just a fairy tale
so i thank you for choosing me,
for insisting that you be able to feel
my body next to you
that one summer night;
for loving my brokenness,
for the good and the bad-
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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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