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Death's Tale"And what do you do for a living, Mr ?"
"Jacobs. Jake Jacobs."
"Mr. Jacobs. What do you do for a living?"
How was I supposed to answer that? 'Oh, I'm a hit man. I go out and kill the people that you don't want to kill or don't have the skill to. Got any jobs for me?' Now, don't you think that's an alarming answer to tell someone who's supposed to be 'curing' you? This doctor was going to think I was absolutely off my rocker.
"I mostly do odd jobs. You know, lift heavy things for sweet little old ladies, work on farms, load trucks... That kind of stuff."
It was the typical answer for a counselor. Or therapist. Or whatever the heck this guy was, I don't know. I don't even know why I was there. My wife, she thinks something's wrong with me. Thinks that I'm unemotional. What the hell am I supposed to be, anyway? You have to be detached when you're in my line of work. Of course I couldn't sit there and tell her that either. She'd divorce me in a hurry and take the kids away.
The CoinTwo sides of the same coin
Yet both sides are blind to the other
Internal struggling, external warmth
Both battling for control
When dark washes over
Consuming the outside
Just as it had with the in
There is no understanding
Confusion followed quickly by frustration
Raging like a storm at sea
There is no understanding
Why does it have to be?
The outside fights the inside
Wanting true tranquility
Yet, somehow, the inside never fades
Burning bright, fighting back
Ignorant of the other's wishes
Burning the outside down to nothing
An endless war
Between two sides
Of the same coin
The FireThe fire raged on
I fed it time and time again
I watched it burn the forests down
I watched as it destroyed
I watched as it terrorized
I stood by and let it burn
Every thing once stood green
Life bloomed all around me
The sunshine on my face
The warmth of something loving
A loving time and place
But something changed inside me
I began to light the fire
Everything began burning bright
I stood by and watched it happen
I watched the world burn down
Now I'm left with nothing
There are ashes at my feet
The green is just a memory
The faint taste of something sweet
The woman from ParisI took much pleasure in losing my way in Paris' morbid and dangerous streets,
Where sole the high arrogant walls whispered me words I was able to understand,
These stretches of granite trapped me like the grave I've always dreamt of.
The Ladies' ice-cold and distant beauty inebriated me with all the bitterness of temptation;
Under a dirty, driving rain, I gazed at them and suffered
While the parisian mist permeated on my heart its burning frostbites,
And hearses of madness couldn't stop from parading through my mind.
"Veux-tu voir la face cachée de Paris ?" - A slender voice dragged me out of darkness
The Seine flowed, flowed, flowed...And stopped.
Her voice, like a carillon, announced Summer's return,
The breeze blew the rain, the sun revived these leaves dead for centuries,
As if she saved me from a waking nightmare.
"Je t'en prie, ne me regarde pas comme ça..." - An embarrassed smiled was being painted on her magenta cheeks
That was her, th
stupid love poems for stupid boys.he was the
smoke in my
saved for when
i'm so lonely
that i cannot
but the problem
with giving your
heart to a boy
with a pack of
for ribs is that
he will want your
well– and after
all that blood and
blue lip kisses,
he will leave you
with a coughing
lighter and a
burnt tongue (but
it's really a great
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
Parchment ThinYou left pencil lead bruises
smudged on my thin ivory skin,
your harsh fingers tracing the lace
of the baby doll lingerie
you pasted to my curves.
The angel wings
tied with tape around my shoulders
(the missing piece of innocence
you thought you could borrow)
weighed me down;
with flat eyes
and marker-blotted lips,
I watched you admire your handiwork.
A nimble flourish of knuckles later,
you slipped me between the plastic
of your photo album
and left my name dripping ink
in the corner--
just another parchment doll
too fragile for holding.
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
Goldfish OriginsGoldfish Origins
little feet patter against hardwood,
windows painted by jet clouds
adorned with light studs like earrings
as the children squeal and run,
swimming in and out every room
like a school of fish.
their arms play fins
and their lungs play gills
as time is laid to rest
with each step.
but as some younglings glide
in the waters of childish antics,
there is one that has strayed from class;
nearby, a teacher frantically
looks for the little girl lost at sea.
a field trip to an invisible building
now an adventure
to prevent a disappearing act,
waves of emotion spike
as the woman searches every corner
for some semblance of the mini hellion.
“Amber! Amber! Please say something, honey!”
Mrs. Johnson searches high and low,
from the closet to the dust-hugged kitchen;
the child is nowhere to be found,
and there is only place left to trawl.
the panicked teacher
throws the bathroom door open
in hopes of finally catching her student,
only to discover a lonely fa
darknessHave you ever woke up and you feel like their is darkness all around you?
You are battling your own mind
You have the worst thoughts go on in your head
Don't want to be around anyone
You feel like you are doomed
You think no one understands
Waking up in the darkness is not a good feeling
Try to think of a good place in your life and let the darkness fade
Not Crying OutIt's not a cry for attention
Nor something done just to spite
It simply came along
And took a hold of my life
With hooked claws
And teeth urgent to dig in
It simply took hold
Day by day, it digs in deeper
Gradually degrading my confidence
Gradually degrading me
Until, one day, I may cease to exist
Because it ate me away
Leaving nothing but a hollow being
With no traces at the core
Simply black, burned, and broken
To never be as I was once before
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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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