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FearSurely, that's not how it is. Why would it be? Where is this going?
I turn it.
The last few drops cleanse my face. The heat clings to my skin only to be torn off and replaced by the embracing cold. I pause... but only for a moment, before stepping out into the unwelcoming domain of grey.
The day begins.
I shiver slightly as I step around and notice the emergence of colour in my surroundings. The dry and colourless air was being slowly flooded as if the night sky was being stained by the rapidly encroaching morning. The harsh yellows of sunlight chased away the delicately silvered stars which resided on the massive inkblot known as the night sky.
An impressive sight rivalled and possibly surpassed only by the spectacle of the inkblot itself being engulfed from all sides by navy and tinges of cerulean.
All traces of the evening shimmered briefly and died down. Remnants of the previous night were only remembered by those who lived in it and appreciated the beauty of what existed above.
Crow and a Songbird (Confessions of a King)I recall a time in the distant past in which a winter’s day lasted much longer than this… or was I rewriting the past to please my present?
I cleared my throat, pondered on something to say, but only managed to shake my head silently after a good thirty-or-so seconds of internal struggle.
Another thirty-or-so seconds passed by us like the last trickle of sunlight at dusk.
It was not my loveless yearning and disorientating confusion which bothered me the most - rather the careless disregard of my position in the first place.
Finally, I managed a dry laugh.
“What’s funny.” She said cruelly - with little to no indication she was even asking me anything. Though unkind, I could not help but find her voice hauntingly beautiful, like a wraith or bizarre apparition gently steering me to some unknown location. My worries crept upwards and feathered outwards like an obscene inkblot on my conscience.
I considered replying but decided against it.
Cornered by my own f
A Poor Soul's PatienceThrough the haze of rain and blurred spectacles, I stare uninterestedly at my surroundings. Strangers swim in and out of focus, but it doesn’t matter. Should it?
Safely under my umbrella, I whip out my mobile phone and check the time.
Late by seventeen minutes already? How disappointing. No, I shouldn’t say that. She’s not even that late… no one’s perfect, and being ever-so-slightly late is perfectly understandable. Besides, this weather doesn’t do public travel any justice. Yes, that’s right - Perfectly understandable.
I’ll wait for a bit longer.
Countless indistinguishable characters continued to drift past me. Some rushed around, hoping to get from one place to another as quickly as possible. On the other hand, some sauntered and ambled around slowly; probably with nothing to look forward to. Already in a fairly unfavourable situation, I failed to sympathise with these commuters. Or, perhaps I was just generally apathetic to th
The Morning Is CalmThe morning is calm
And a coldness lingers now
As summer dies out.
Soft light kisses the aged grass
As the world quietly wakes.
The SongI hear the words to a song I've never known
It calls me to find a home down an unknown road
A place lost to time all covered in moss and stone
With trackless paths and towering trees that stand all alone
Awash with the deep grey mists and walls the color of bones
An endless great sky filled with the wind's mournful moan
Where the twilight sun paints the clouds with a heart's tone
Where the fowl and the fawn have long lived and grown
And the brief horn of man has never once blown
It is hidden away by a lattice of heavy green boughs
My home knows only the moon's kiss and the winter's heavy sighs
Never will it know my touch, no matter how I try
Would that I might fall into feathers and learn to fly
I too, would come to learn each and every cry
Cliches are dead, I killed them.Don't "fall in love", tread carefully on it, it has thorns like you wouldn't believe.
Don't "spell it out" for them, make it hard to understand, the ones who are worth it, decode it.
Don't "let time tell", tell time, what the fuck it is you want, and claim it; before it has a chance.
"A diamond in the rough", may know it's worth, instead look for the rough kind of diamond, only you could tame.
"All's well that ends well"–– well here's something, no it isn't, some shit ends fucking terribly, but only after something is destroyed, can it be reformed into something worth the destruction, and no, some shit isn't worth it in the end, refund.
"Time heals all wounds"–– yeah…unless they're internal and relevant, then all time does is replace them with something else... until you forget.
"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"…unless all you have is lemons, which gives you some bitter-as-shitty-juice, no one's drinking but your sorry-dumb-ass–
A Slight Chance of RainEvery day is a
struggle to be yourself...
Every cloud puts a
strain on your mental health...
You stand upon a
pile of shrinking wealth.
But you don't have to fall
into a dry summer-
the harshest of winters
are why we enjoy Spring.
Maybe pain means more
than pointless consequence...
Maybe loss is more
than a coincidence...
You wonder if more
hope lies in providence.
And you don't have to fall
into a lack of faith-
the purest peaceful place
is the eye of a storm.
You were told that these
clouds have silver linings...
You were told that these
shadows define lightings...
You expect some truth
in all of your findings.
So you don't have to fall
into a broken state-
a slight chance of rain is
better than none at all.
primrose pathsOnce upon a time, she danced on primrose paths that glimmered in the light and glowed in the dark. Her eyes laughed in dazzling gold and her lips would smile in a dozen different curves, while she hummed melodies that fluttered like the ripples of a heartbeat.
She walked on air and wished on stars that gleamed in the heavens. Her ceiling was the sky and her floor the verdant meadows and she slept every night with her face turned towards the glittering moon.
Her hair was shot through with golden sunlight and her skin was tinted with the pink of carnations and she never stopped believing in forever afters. She played with the fairies on the lawn and she flew on the wings of a dove and she prayed that she would never ever have to stop.
But like Icarus, she fell.
Oh, she fell.
The air gave way from beneath her feet and the wind tore melodies from her throat. Her eyelids fell shut and the fairies cried her name and she screamed as her wings shattered.
They caught her in a net woven w
I found your article highly offensive, and highly prejudiced against things as simple and harmless as make-up and hair dye, which have been around as long as the Egyptians. I would ask you to take down this article immediately, but I don't suppose that your hubris would let you. So a few girls enjoy having wild hair. That doesn't mean we're moving towards a hunger games-like world! The very nature of the article speaks of the arrogance of the writer, and I do suppose that your work is 100% the true you, correct? Why do you, in the very same sentence as you tell girls to be happy with their self image, say something as degrading as you did about the way a girl dyes her hair? Why do you assume that you are so much better than Mrs Jane Doe? Arrogant. I do hope you awaken to your ignorance, your arrogance, and the mistakes made in this article sometime soon. You truly should go and read some Edgar Allen Poe, Roald Dahl, some kind of true classical writing. With true class. You
WarmthSeashell Girl went to the beach,
she wanted to kiss the Ocean Wave Girl
[everything tastes like sea salt
and sunlight, sky's breeze]
Ocean Wave Girl brings
Seashell Girl treasures
[seashells (of course),
pretty smooth rocks,
drawings in the sand]
spends the day at
the surf's edge
with their toes in the water
watching the sunset
The IdesThe Ides
From "Julius Caesar" by William Shakespeare
Trouble in a Company
March was not a very fortunate month for Cesar Forbes of the Billingsworth Finance Company Ltd. In fact, events were leading to a climax in that month. In late February, Cesar Forbes had a row with a fellow officer, namely Robert Cassidy. They argued about lending to various customers of the firm, and Cesar Forbes had insisted. By the start of the month, Cassidy had consulted privately with a friend in the firm, namely Ed Brothers. However, many executives of the firm, who were on the Executive Committee, supported Forbes. Outraged, however without due cause, Cassidy and Brothers warned Forbes of the middle of the month.
"Beware the mid~month term, Forbes."
"You should do likewise, Brothers."
On March 13, Cassidy and Brothers brought the case before the Executive Committee. Naturally and with due integrity, the Committee insisted on hearing both sides. Brothers spoke first agains
People Are Not Dying of Broken Hearts, AnymoreStay up all night.
Black dust in the lungs.
yes, washing faces for the morning run.
A three headed beast:
and many shades between.
Pep up with a cup,
'cause sleep is for the weak,
rest is for the wicked,
and no one's dead just yet.
Time is waiting for peace;
the clock is dead.
And so is silence.
The silence is blaring,
and breaking up the membrane.
So make up some questions
no one will care to answer.
Because everyone is sick.
Three nights and seven days,
the world has fever chills,
and night sweats from bad dreams-
bleeding for no reason,
but the doctors can fix everything.
People are not dying of broken hearts, anymore.
Where did the pain go?
All that Oxycontin is finally wiping out the human element.
Humans don't need sunlight,
"Just take another swish of booze, Frank."
"My name isn't Frank."
"Have another zany-bar, baby."
You'll be "Frank" in fifteen minutes...
Yea, all the cogs are too busted up
to have a grip.
The wheeles ar
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More