|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
A Poem Anent EvilTo balance such dissymmetry
Was fated here soliloquy
(as pigeon is by name a dove,
and philters that by altar wine )
His mingling with this verse, thereof
Makes dissonant polyphony.
Love-pinkened cheek and petal’d prose
(chemical by Bodenstein)
By bloom-robbed breast Hegemone’s
O, mercy for the compass rose !
For East of Here lies Valentine.
Shattered Stories: Lovesick On that fateful night, Fitzwilliam donned his hat of tinfoil, which threw a becoming shadow over his mild features; fixed it at a rakish angle, and stepped outside. Wheatley, the butler, opened a Chinese umbrella to shelter his master, though it was not raining. The waning sun, which stained the landscape port wine, was still quite in danger of ruining Fitzwilliam’s peaches-and-cream complexion. Fitzwilliam was led to his stallion by the butler, all parties presently looking blue as bottles cast beneath the tinted light of the parasol. Wheatley mounted the saddle with style and offered his unemployed hand to Fitzwilliam. The smartly-dressed youth squirmed his way up the horse’s great side, struggling not to get the horse’s horsiness all over his dinner jacket. Nothing spoiled a party quite like the perfume of topical flea medicine layered with laudanum, of which the latter Fitzwilliam dabbed behind his ears for special occasions.
As the noble
Ann Won't EatEmbracing your cello, you take up less space
Than the hollow-boned spruce, bow firm and melodic,
Your hair falling out
All over the strings.
Happy concertos hang on the rafters
Just as you yearned for yourself
A less-permanent proxy for you;
Watching and smiling,
The wooden beams modelling
What we pine for, and though you decline
A ticket to the theater,
Maybe it's possible you can
Find laughter here on the ground-
Because it's funny, like we say all the time
We can't even feed ourselves
How were you supposed to feed the baby?
And maybe it was rape,
But how pure were you to begin with?
You still love him, and
You can't undo that like
He undid you.
It's becoming clearer to me these days
That I won't see you again
Just as I said
Though you didn't really believe that,
It hurts when you're wrong.
So carve your arm up, I love you,
I dare you.
And callous your
Because maybe it's not so flawed
Because wrong can be measured in degrees
Like the cold of your
Winter SweetEyes aglaze; digits icing over
With death in the periphery
An avalanche of downy notes
Flutter by on paper motes
We make snow angels in the dusk
And cake ourselves with frosting coats
AnorexiaOpaque as ocean
Heavy as feather-
Tied to the tether.
Veins that chain
Rip at the wrist!
Bones that bind
Fingers in fist.
For what I can't be-
A soul that can love
What eyes cannot see!
Beast in the KingdomMy watch, a testament to Time, ticks tenaciously. The delicate click of teeth meeting tooth; the beat of a miniature heart. A resonance I recognize from elsewhere-
The mouse lay shivering in the warmth of my palm
The miniscule vessels, chambers, and veins; struggling to pump the precious fluid that slows with every life-shattering breath.
Yes, it is-undoubtedly-the insignificant vibrations of the mouse's beating heart that sound so alike to the timepiece that touches my very veins- both ticking down the time they have left; becoming unwound.
Finding"I wanted nothing more than to grab the envelope and tear it open violently. Nothing has been more excruciating, in my sixty-odd years of existence, than watching Irene unhurriedly study the translucent cerulean envelope, black ink penetrating the waxy paper in places, adorned with stamps of faces marred by the Postal Service. Upon opening the letter, we understand we'd been nothing more than naïve children. We were pawns, utterly disposable."
Helena"I used to wonder, with childlike curiosity, if her hair burned her ears and neck if it were to go unwashed too long. Only on Sunday night, when she bathed, I was convinced the fire was quenched. When she thought no-one was looking, she'd pull out her tortoiseshell hairpins and let her auburn hair flicker in the dimming summer light; we watched, fascinated, through the age-warped windowpanes as they silhouetted a widow aflame."
AblazeThe August heat suffers us equally
Hot, alive, awake
Oh, how infernal flame awakens the senses!
A cancer, a welcome plague, eating flesh and charring bone
Too proud to fight, I embrace the heat
Consent to its wavering ashen arms that wrap us in Summer's soma
Do not struggle or protest
When she fills my stinging eyes with tears of brackish ocean sweat
My Summer is a phoenix singing through the ashes of Winter
A scorching paramour, a blazing god
Wrathful and searing-sweet, feathers against my breast
Stay with me, and scar with me
Disfigure yourself; bond your flesh to mine
Melt and be melted, let go and fall
Together we'll pit Fire against Fire
And, because we are still among the Living
Watch the world we set ablaze
your smile used to be bright. | kaneki ken
Why̴ ͢įs ̡t͠h̵e ͠wo̴r͘ld͡ ̨so̢ ̨c͞r͞uel?
"Are you worried about him?" He — Banjou, if you remember his name correctly — asks as he rests a hand on your right shoulder. You decide not to respond to him and continued to stay silent. Of course, you were worried about him. You were just about worried as everyone here in the cafe. "There's no need to be worried, though. Kaneki is a strong guy. I'm sure he'll make it. We'll save him, too. I promise." He says, trying his best to reassure you with a smile.
"Is it a promise you can keep?" You questioned, your voice mellow. "Promises are meant to be broken, you know."
"I don't break my promises." He says.
"Okay." You're not sure if you trusted him or not — because once you give someone your utmost trust, they'll betray you and throw you away. You'll be forgotten, and you'll be all alone again. Giving your trust to someone else is difficult and pa
Hetalia x reader Prologue
The schoolbell rang throught the hallways of your school and all the doors flew open. That means one thing: A schoolday was finally over. As the doors opened everyone walked outside. Some were running happily and some were taking it slowly, including you. You walked out with your schoolbag around your shoulder and sighed in relief. You were glad that it was finally, because for you it was really boring and you couldn't wait to read some Hetalia fanfiction on your laptop. You waved your best friend goodbye with a smile and walked away with a tired smile.
You walked inside with tired (e/c) eyes and a frown on your face. You leaned against the door, looked down at the floor and sighed. You never felt so tired after school.
"Are you okay, honey?" A voice said. You looked up and saw your mom in front of you with worried (e/c) eyes. She walked over to you and put a hand on your forehead. "Hmm. No fever. But you really don't look good." she said
You didn't even perform an autopsyYou placed me in the bed of a sarcophagus.
I asked, "Isn't this where you put dead people?"
"Then why am I here?"
"You're dead, of course."
Meal: Six (6) Maine red lobster tails
One (1) bowl of black caviar
One (1) glass of Chardonnay
One (1) scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, topped with dark chocolate ganache and a Maraschino cherry.
Comments: Garbage. I always knew rich people were full of shit.
Meal: One (1) pepperoni pizza from Little Caesar’s.
One (1) waffle cone, chocolate
Meal: One (1) bottle of Clear American, Fuji Apple flavor
Two (2) Payday candy bars.
Meal: Two (2) fried chicken legs
One (1) bowl of mashed potatoes, brown gravy
One (1) bowl of creamed corn
One (1) glass of milk
One (1) slice of peach pie
Comments: Just like Mom used to make.
Meal: One (1) bowl of tomato soup
One (1) grilled cheese
One (1) serving of spaghetti squash
One (1) Jello vanilla pudding
Meal: One (1) bowl of spaghetti
Two (2) Olive Garden breadsticks
One (1) bag of buttered popcorn, dusted with
Dim moralsThe echo of her heels that haunted the stair case heightened her despair. What a difference from the beginning of the evening, when she had walked proudly out the door. The sobs which she could no longer hold back sounded higher pitched than usual in the lonely corridor, but she didn't care who might have heard them this time. After slamming the door to her apartment, with shaking hands she locked it, scared as one who thought himself followed. Once in her home she felt safer, however the shame and frustration overwhelmed her shoulders and she let herself slide down to her knees on the floor. She bit her lips, but grimaced with pain, breathing heavily, though her moans were subsiding and the tears were starting to dry. The tears along with the blood from her face.
That afternoon, a tender smile reflected in the mirror of the vanity spot had brought her back to life. With delicate gestures the woman picked up every make up tool in the proper order, applying creams, foundation, illuminat
amorei picked my heart up off the floor
times before giving in to shattered-glass arteries and a fragile state of mind.
nothing went right
until constellations rained from heavens and made angels with their teeth. their goddess stepped forward until i could taste her on my tongue. she leaned into me and whispered
"you are loved"
then fell into my mouth like raindrops off of leaves and melted into me.
heart in hands,
i cradle myself for the eighth time...
through kaleidoscope eyes,
i can tell that she will be my last.
Georgia, 1946"Damp night air and hot summer fear. Looking through the crosshairs while my face caught fire. Flex, shudder, pull, fall. Dust, moonlight, blood. The walk home though the long grass is unbearably uneventful. No serpent to bite or scorpion to sting. Just guilt, silence, dread. Hiss, hiss, the grass screams and clings to your ankles."
Keep in Touch!
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