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SoftI am lying in bed. It is so cold, my fingers have turned red. I hear you unlock the door, your footsteps echoing on the worn out carpet. You see my light is on "hey!" you yell. I yell "hey" back, and you move on down to your room.
I wrap my silk robe around myself, covering my pajamas. "Hey man, you wanna drink tonight?" My lips form the words, whilst my mind races, waiting for the answer. "Ha-ha, sure". "Cool, I will go get my brandy then." I slip into my room, grab my recent ex-boyfriends South African brandy and take it into the lounge, where you reside. My eyes flicker to the glasses you have set up, and the pure whiskey winks at me as you pour yourself a glass.
"Fuck… we need some coke!" you exclaim, as I pour a nip of brandy in our striped water-drinking glasses. "I'm gonna pop down to the shop, you want anything?" "Ha-ha, no thanks, I am in my PJ's and can't be bothered getting out of them!" "Sweet", you say, as you grab your keys. "I'll be back" you call as the door shuts. I am
The sound of my nails pulling at the bricks echoes around my circular enclosure. I keep pulling, although pain is shooting along my figertips, through my hand and up my arm. I am determined to escape. I must escape.
The wind whispers through the small, barred window above me. Its voice biting viciously into my flesh and searing my bones. I pull my velvet dress tighter around my body, hoping to warm myself against it.
Beaten, I sit slowly on my bed. How many days, weeks, months have I been locked in here?
Looking around, it would be almost easy to think that my jail contained an Elizabethen princess. A large, ornately carved four poster bed with silk sheets and lace blankets... A large (unbreakable), gilded mirror and a rusted old chamber pot decorated, and served, my space.
He dressed me in fine clothes. Clothes that, on the outside, I would have died to have. Flowing dark red velvet dresses, wine coloured skirts, black lingere, corsets that squeezed my flesh into pulp, but made me loo
Lie down in the forest of orchids [a murder vixen].
I hear the lobotomised swarm of insects.
Swarming towards me, coming for me, running at me.
They perch themselves on my decaying shell.
They know I am alive, alive,
They know I can feel, feel,
They want me dead, dead,
The candles are burning low. I cannot gather the energy required to pull myself from between the silk black sheets that grip my thighs. The lighting is dim. I need to light more candles. But instead of crawling out of bed and lighting more candles, I pull the sheets up to the stubble on my chin and lie on my spine, glaring at the cigarette stained roof.
There is a deafening knock on my door. The sound resonates in my ears, climbing down my earlobe and resting in my cochlea. I groan and fall out of my bed. I rise and stumble to the door, scratching my arse on the way. I unlock the cheap chain and turn the plated silver knob.
"oh. It's you" I groan, letting her in and returning to the womb of my bed. She smiles vacantly and closes the door behind her. I hear the rattle of the chain as she locks us inside.
She smells like an ancient mosque. Like she always does. She sits beside me, her long black nails scraping down my thigh. I watch her hands move in their sensuous attempt and wish they
Adonta ta Mele
His hands are cancer,
His eyes are plasma
inhaling my virus
[deleting the one who painfully exists].
His mouth is brain fluid
swirling around my veins, encountering my rapid motions
[poisoning my psyche].
He is my depravity
my soul with no voice
singing to a choir of angels risen from Hitler's grave.
He is my chrotid artery,
severed and decaying
continuing to live when
His persona is mine,
dry, sardonic and dead.
He is alive,
in a plastic martini world.
I swallow his glass dust
and hate myself for it.
Chained to the moon he sits
shivering in the warmth of the
His paper skin is torn by
black ink needles over his
The rain drips, e.v.a.p.o.r.a.t.i.n.g
down his naked
Pallid grey eyes fill with salt
as a mixed psychosis spills into his cupped
His silent screams of indecipherable messages and
black voids of suffering are passively excreted from his sanguinary
Borderline and bleeding, he speaks of
broken dolls, lost words and
His sinuous junkie arms move [like a child reaching for forbidden candy]
as he reaches toward the invisible thread of hope life promises
Walking back into the dark he mutters to the moths as his
eyes spil glass... transforming him into a bleeding
His Name Is Cackle~
His Name Is Cackle~
A new clown is headed to town~
Wearing not a smile, but a frown~
Fettered wrists, and his mouth stitched closed~
But why this is, not a soul knows~
That is until his bonds break~
And he's free from chain and shackle~
Nightmares wrought throughout his wake~
His name is Cackle~
DriftingMarkings on the wall
Burning inside my brain
And driving me insane
I fight and I scream
But it's no use, it seems
Madness will take over
And claim me as a prisioner
Creations Of The SoberA smirk crawls upon your face,
As the pretty bright blood leaks down your arm,
Part of you is whispering,
"what have I done..?"
But you can barely hear it over the demented laughter,
That is emerging from your throat.
Your whole body is shaking,
With fear or with excitement, still remains unknown,
You look down at the bodies around you,
Drowning within their own blood.
You clench your fist,
Digging your nails into your rough skin,
Until your royal blood starts to flow.
You begin to laugh louder,
Dragging your feet through the mixture of their blood,
You walk past them,
Leaving a murderous trail behind.
You simply pick up your weapon,
Licking off the remaining blood,
And tighten your grip around it,
Ready to attack,
Your best friend stands in the distance,
Eyes wide and mouth open,
He's too frightened to say a thing.
You flash a smile his way,
When you realize he's crying.
"T-Those w-were yo-ur f-friends.."
He trails off,
Silent tears rolling down his cheeks,
SoullessI traded my soul for a little more life
And was given a body that isn't mine.
Now I've been employed by death
To be a gatherer of souls.
I use the one life I was given
To destroy the lives of thousands.
Why did I make such a choice?
I should have let myself die.
I never deserved a second chance.
I never deserved power.
Now I must use it for evil.
There's no good in this world.
Evil has swallowed us whole.
All that's left is rotting souls.
Where is your god?
FearViewing the world with bleeding eyes,
The black windows to soulless oblivion.
How awful that such evil could be contained in one being.
Neck cocked to the side,
Waiting to strike when we're most disposed.
Wait till we quarrel.
Wait till we question our morals.
Wait till we've forgotten who we are.
Then rip us to pieces.
Break us in two.
Crush us underfoot till the only left are those to mourn.
The strong will be all that's left,
But the strong won't last.
All will be swallowed.
None will escape once fear has dug his claws deep into our minds.
Hacia las estrellas
Nuestra es tu esencia
Rojas las aguas
Mi ira líquida
Veneno en tu vida
Éxtasis de la mía.
Bailarines de fuego
Hacen su espectáculo
Aplauden el arte
Llenos de terror
No quieren mirar
Puentes se elevan
Hechos de huesos
Libres de carne.
Colapsan los suelos
Muere la tierra
This timeThe wheels
and a hard place,
and I can't charm
And I'm not sure
what it wants from me
hey newton, gravity's flawedi.
starting anew from the flutter
and the sputter of lungs.
a vacant sea filled with feathers
and tumultuous clatter,
ribs in a treacherous pattern
resembling exiting rungs.
i want to wrestle the angels,
your tendency is the ladder.
involved with full indiscretion,
trading lazy for lace.
unspool the curse of the long-
limbs in a languorous flexion
i like the stab of the ankles,
you need the curves intersected.
opting to cull my extents
with trans-dimensional vigor.
spent my dysphoric corrections
on reconnecting lax ends.
lips in a spurious accent
feign a passionate rigor.
i tie myself to the anchor,
you extricate and ascend.
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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