thank deviantartthanks so effing much.
just trying to read a poem from my favourites, but i can't, because i'm too damn young for a poem!
anything else people want to take away from under 18s?
how is everyone?
Newest
In DeathSnow leaves falling slow by open caskets, bearing tomorrow's children.In Death
by ~OneVioletRose
Blissfully SubmissiveYou’ve shown me what hope is yet all I’ve bestowed on you is despair; I grip its roots with wretched fingers in fearful avoidance of your manhood and the legacy it’s vowed to procure.Blissfully Submissive
You whisper rape as if it were a love song and meet my eyes to confirm the melody humming along to my protests. We’ve danced to this tune before and I’ve tired of waltzing with your ghost.
You take reign over my kingdom thieving my freedom so easily. You menace me by thrusting deeper through barriers set by past lovers whose embrace I gave
by ~OneVioletRose
Lust is a DrugMy endorphins are your amphetamineLust is a Drug
pumping up and spilling out of this reckless romance.
You have little time for ketamine racing through sensation faster than you stumble into my room and out again, half finished, bearing twice the smile you had this morning.
It’s almost like I’m on ecstasy
asphyxiated by my clothes with your tongue inflating my lungs
further than they can go.
(My rib cage is only small enough to contain my deflated heart.)
You find my weakness is with alcohol that hauls me down grimy dit
by ~OneVioletRose
The Thesaurus was her JournalShe spares a word for yesterday carefully chosen from a list of things she wants to be known as.The Thesaurus was her Journal
“Libertine.”
Intellectually she found herself in chains describing her aspirations
forever the same
and recalling memories
of similar days
where hope is transcended
by precarious desire.
“Titillating.”
If he had a nuance of her pollution,
a notion of nature’s impurity, he’d extract his virtuous perversion and revisit that of homely beauty.
If she only knew of the pleasur
by ~OneVioletRose
Favourites
Wind, Tell Her LightlyEvening cold decays the moment, sending shivers. Burning bold, delays don't compliment his pride, and so it withers.Wind, Tell Her Lightly
Spot on assessment reading signs of distress, she rushes close for the kiss and warmth.
It's a small concession, given the circumstance. This moment is a year, perhaps, or maybe more in passing.
His heart is now a stump with no feeling through and through. His limbs, lifeless extensions of the empty, senseless mess her indecision left in place of what was there.
But still, somewhere underneath
by ~nawkaman
End Of A Beautiful FriendshipWe always new that our souls were old, That we should have been from different times, When we lied by the fire, her hand in my hold, We watched the classics and mouthed the lines,End Of A Beautiful Friendship
So Hepburn, Bogart, And Jimmy Dean, Filled talk of love, on our televison screens,
As we used to say how romance was dead, How the world should be in black and white, Just like the photos I saw, that she hung by her bed, When as in the movies, I kissed her goodnight, &n
by ~Max170
Girls Like ClayToday could be any day, I won’t talk specifics. But not this day. Not this day.Girls Like Clay
In the morning, before I made him leave
with the vagrants, I told him about swans. I dreamt of hiding, and everywhere I went,
there he was, tall form,
with a look on confusion on his face,
“Raped you?” How odd, then, to now be in a safe place,
to have a real bed.
I am not the girl whose head he shaved. I am a hard stone. I am no longer interested
in soft curves. I am made of angles. I shot him twice and his eyes cl
by ~literary-device
My Mouth a Barren WombAh but if I only had a voice, I would bring them all to shame: my winged contestants for the spotlight, my plumèd orchestrators of the dawn. For I have songs in me that writhe and twist and churn like bileous fire in the gut, which keep me awake in rutting lust and whose unsung echoes taint my dreams. Songs that bleed like open wounds; symphonies of solitude that shriek inside my head. and seep of sorrows still and speechless.My Mouth a Barren Womb
Eulogies for the living.
Lovesongs for the dead.
But I am born an abject mute, an unstrung harp, a tonedeaf b
by ~UncleBrazzie
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Preston, England
- Interests: Music, Sex, Booze
- Favourite movie: The Dreamers, Ginger Snaps 1, 2 + 3
- Favourite band or musician: Art Brut
- Tools of the Trade: Pen, paper and profound conversation.
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...be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger...
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"Poetry is the perfume of the soul." - Otep Shamaya
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-The reason its called A Revolution is because Inevitably, it will end up where we started-
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"The world we perceive through our senses could be an elaborate hoax. "
René Descartes
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I probably just said something offensive. It's just the internet, relax already, dork.
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Blood runs through your veins...
that's where our similarity ends.
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"I'm doing this for myself"
where will it end...
its always refreshing to start new.
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the sun in the trees made the skyline look like crooked teeth.
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