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GHOSTSThere is no reason for me to wake up early in the morning.
There is neither 'hi' nor 'hello' as I come through the door.
There is nothing to see but for a shadow
sitting behind corners.
There are no words to exchange with the footfalls I make.
There are only ghosts now filling these empty spaces.
As Children DreamAnd now the stars fall down
To lay their cheeks upon the sand
To sleep away they days until the coming dark
Wakes them, takes them right back to the sky
ORPHEUSWhat with this wicked woe do
I wax and wane like one so
blue, company only to
a wayward night
With what way by which
I go winding wearily warily
away from wasting time
searching for home
Would that i knew where
and how a wandering soul so
alone finds something most certainly
I don't know
What with this wicked woe do
I wither away like one so
blue, black like ash
white like light
The ItchHello again oh dear old friend
I've waited for so long
To see you once again, I fear
That I have missed you so.
Now come into my arms my friend
And I'll take care of you
Now come and rest you troubled soul
While I go claim my dues
You see my friend you're all but gone
This body that we share
Belonged to you belongs to me
Now that you are dead
So sleep my friend sleep long and sweet
I will not take so long
To take the hearts of those you owe
The demon of your soul
-untitled-There's this sense of longing which
I feel right now and I know you feel
It too. How terribly bittersweet this is
To fall in love with you.
This Fragile CorridorThe lights sort of tell me your somewhere in there, waiting for the right time, the right moment, but there's always that reluctance that hinders your movement. In this hallway there is only forward and back or nowhere at all and you I've seen in the past and hope to meet in future. My dreams, though bleak and jaded, are of you, of me, waiting for the right time, the right moment, just sitting here afraid of the future, nursing the past, enjoying the present without you. With you in this fragile corridor. Such is the way I kite around your fickle dreams like smoke through open seams that you could only notice my entirety if you caught on to each and every one of me. But what you think you could be wrong even if it looks like we're sure. I see you; you see me, but there is such a hush in between that it's difficult to hear... us. And like a dream there's nothing much you can grasp for I am shadow dancing behind your curtained glass disappearing just as fast as the blink of your eye or t
What about distance?They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what about distance?
For some it makes the heart grow cold,
Loneliness leaves you tired and aching.
Not my heart,
My love grows deeper every day in your absence.
This distance makes my heart grow stronger.
Do not grieve, sweet prince.
Please dry your earthen eyes.
Such open windows to your pure and honest soul.
Thousands of mile markers may separate us,
But each is an unspoken promise of my love.
As I pass them one by one, the whispers of my heart grow ever louder
Until I am finally in your loving embrace.
I will not rest until I am with you.
Tossing and turning.
Burning from the inside.
I can feel you.
I see your face in constellations.
SingleKiss me on the neck like you're single
and make me fall for your flirtatious hips
and closed eyes, hot peach sunshine.
Hot ice adorning your breasts,
how I feel the heat of summer,
summer's beauty in your pupils slightly dilated
from the dark bedroom keeping your gaze unclear,
but it's four in the morning
and who needs eyesight or foresight,
hindsight yipping its eager cry
when you wake up, groggy
but smiling like you're single,
single nights of getting drunk and laid,
swallowing vodka and kisses,
unprotected lust, too charismatic to resist,
too anxiogenic to repeat, too bizarre
to call back in the morning,
so I text you
and you put off the weight
like it would be easier to be crushed
than torn, but it's only two days
before you message me back at two a.m.
weeping words like
you're not single.
Sweet siren singing sex,
seductive honey eyes drawing
hungry humans to the queen bee,
praying on hungry humans
drinking nectar off your chest.
Let's put it this way:
we fucked up,
Play. Pause. Play. Rewind.Fast forward to the part where our lips make history. Slow down baby, "eat all your vegetables and maybe you'll get dessert", we've got the rest of our lives to play this little scene. Yes I meant this part where it's R18, but who the fuck cares 'cuase, baby, it's just you and me.
Play. Pause. Play.
Swaying to this beautiful soundtrack to a backdrop of black and white. Giants made of concrete and glass panes with trains in between; backtracking like a broken record skipping grooves. Cut. Cut. CUT! What a horrible take. You color the canvas while I sett the paint. This is...
Like the smell of sex it both feeds and keeps the ache at bay. Baby you're too far away, but Christ the lord, the way to touch me... Touch you... Touch me... That little slide between valleys on streams of perspiration. The soft snow-like smoothness of your skin upon my deft fingers. The feeling lingers.
Play. Skip. Play. Skip.
Fast forward to the part where those lips part... Rewind. Your lips. Deft fing
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More