|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Could Have Been My WordsThe voice through the speakers croons
Lines I well could have written for you
A testament, a profession—still these are words
More than I can express—a truth that burns
Time and distance will stake no claim
Even now my love remains the same
Through devastation, utter confusion and pain
My resolve, my absolute devotion remains unchanged
AnticipationBreathing in anticipation
I feel the ghost of jubilation
Hope is such a revelation
To be aware, a strange sensation
ChangelingLittle mischief maker
Beautiful Changeling child
Tiny Pixie darling
Winsome Trickster smile
Deep blue gateways, so keen, charm full
Infectious chiming tone, enchanted soothing lull
Love given freely, to those worthy as she deems
Worlds born of words, from days spent a-dream.
Celestial face, ever shining sun, of my darkest days
How have I proven worthy, what did I do, to deserve this gift of fey?
More Real Than Real…And when I awake, I awake to wistfulness or some stronger unnamed emotion. It courses through and leaves me utterly hopeless, longing for what I left behind in my dreams. I lay motionless for a while with the taste of melancholy in my mouth, terrified to forget the beautiful impossibility that sleep brings. I don't want my waking world to wash away the bittersweet escape my mind constructed. Sadly, I must arise before the mere memory of an illusion destroys me where I remain. What moments ago brought me comfort is just as capable of breaking me completely.
Such is the Way, Such is the WorldThrough the days unnumbered
And rhymes inadequately performed
Past the different phases
And the ones yet to reform.
Beyond the many confusions
And lines that are ever blurred
My face has yet to change
Yours has yet to discern
The lies in my truths I told
those confessions I entrusted you
In the love of ages I gave him
The uncensored admission I honored,
Not to him but to you.
The warmth and acceptance we traded
Care begrudgingly granted
Yet still I kept most for myself
My selfishness be damned
your faith in me will burn
The world will not stop spinning
When the last pure breath of yours falls.
When my crime is complete
Not one will care
None shall record.
When the demise is made true.
None will notice
All that passed.
When I was right.
They'll all admit.
The truth I knew all along.
No OneShriek your curses to the sky;
For no one else will listen.
Let your tears fall to the earth;
For no one else will catch them.
Writhe in pain upon the ground;
For no one else will hold you
Pound your fists into the dirt;
For no one shall you ever hurt.
Watch the colors drain away and the water rise as you drown
Listen to your breathing cease for surely thou art dead now.
UndeniableI will scream with clarity of clouded uncertainty
Raw truths fully hidden
The dance I dance the best, the song I sing the most
The resolve as strong as glass, shatters in a single ragged breath
Worthless treasures reft away in daylight, only to be restored in shadows
My pride and all things me, sent to sleep for a time
My life was gray then all went black
No more apathetic bliss
I woke up and stood on my own again
Look down and fly
Fall away from the awareness that cascades around
Muffled whispers by fire, warning me to be treacherously true
Embrace the wind, in a slow rush of intoxication be born anew
With blatant stealth, I choose my path
With cautious recklessness I close my eyes, and see
Stop merely listening to words. Hear what he means
Destruction is what his very body language screams
I know what I cannot possibly know
My destiny is not mine alone
WinterGoneWhere did my winter go?
Summer brought it to an end.
All the shivered promises
All the whispered plans
Summer seemed to steal away
Leaving only means and taking ends
Heaven on Hold StillI have sat at this door for many months, proving my ability to display patience. No key is in my pocket, yet there is now a window. I can more than sense the wonders of the room; I can see, feel, envision and taste. Despair washes through me. I've never wanted anything more. That only proves I am right to wait and strengthens my resolve. I glance once more at my hands. No key. Not yet. But soon. Not soon enough. But nearer every day.
Hate Me... Please~~Hate Me... Please~~
I want to scream at you
Even though you didn't do anything
I want to sew your lips together
when you happily smile at me
I want to kick you down
After you've picked me up
I want to shut your eyes forever
So I don't have to see them glint with hope
I want to make you cry
When you dry up all my tears
I want to tell you that I hate you... but I can't
Because you love me and you would die if I left
So the thing I want most in the world
Is for you to hate me
Maybe then I wouldn't feel so bad
Sissy Shopping StoryOne-Handed Reading: Sissy Shopping Story (TG)
"Can I help you find anything?"
The salesgirl's voice startled me a little. I turned and smiled at her, then held up the two tops I had been debating over, one in each hand.
"Actually, yes, you can," I answered, still smiling. "I can't decide which of these to get. Maybe you can help me decide?" The salesgirl nodded and turned her eyes to the shirt I I held out first.
"This one?" I inquired.
It was a lavender stretch shirt, princess seamed with three-quarter sleeves ending in cute turned back cuffs. I already had one similar to it in white, except this one had the longer, more pointed style of collar.
"Or, this one?" I held the second one out for her to see clearly.
This one was a very cute hot pink knit top in a cotton-lycra blend. Very stretchy and form fitting. It, too, had the popular three-quarter sleeves, but these ended in a one-inch ruffle. The neckline was scooped, though not deeply.
"They are both very contemporary styles, ma'am,
The Fourth Wishi.
She's an ocean-eyed dreamer who could fit the skies of a thousand worlds into her mayfly heart. She's got an angel face and a nasty little smile, and she knows all the secrets in her world. All she wants is to carry on dreaming, so she wishes for dragonfly wings and bottled summer nights and sleep that doesn't have to end. That insidious smile lingers, and she won't surrender her dreams even when her life support stumbles and dies.
He's a romantic with an acoustic soul and steel string scars on his fingertips. He's saving his lovesongs for a perfect girl with summer rolling off her skin and winter in her eyes, and he's never stopped believing that she's out there somewhere. He wishes for her to be everything he's waited for, for her to find him, and for her to be happy. It's a pity he forgets to ask for her to love him back.
She's a revolutionary with a landmine heart and a switchblade tongue. There's dirt and sand under her fingernails and wind in her hair, and she
His door didn't seal.
The light leaked through in morse code. It was more dotted than dashed in the shady light of underground morning, smoky from that dirty chainsmoker mouth, chapped and broken from a night of second hand liquor and first hand regret.
He checked his watch. It didn't work.
Even after so long in the darkness, he still opened his eyes every now and again to check if the sun was still out.
He felt it. That mouth still gnawing at his throat, all docile words and violent farewells. Those fingers on his abdomen curling into his stomach and tearing.
He was overdue.
The door didn't seal. It was easy enough for air to pass right on through. Words too. Scent and sound and regret travelled on air, didn't they?
He was outed by association and it didn't even matter.
What he'd give to be selfless, to be something better than that creature who hoarded bodies in the storeroom corner-- coveted his people like they were belongings--
but he wasn't that good.
Getting in Her Pants"You lost the bet so you have to do it!" laughed Holly.
"Yeah, I only bet because I thought I would win, though," Ash pouted, hoping to wriggle out of his predicament. "I wouldn't have even bet otherwise."
"Well too bad, Ash," Holly said getting mad. "And, just because you are trying to welsh on the bet, I am going to make it harder."
"Noooo!" cried Ash in horror.
"Since you said if you won I had to let you into my pants," the girl went on, "I am still going to do that now that you have lost."
"Hmmm, let's see ..." Holly turned to her dresser and started rummaging through the drawers. "I was just going to make you wear a pair of my jeans before." She continued to poke around the drawers as she talked, looking at one thing, then another, discarding another. "But now, I think my new lace-up jeans and a cute top will be much more fun, don't you?"
She spun around and tossed him the pants she spoke of. They were flared jeans, dark blue denim , very soft and form fitting. There were brown le
caterpillars will become butterflies.You called it a whole other world.
"It's a fortress," you tell me when we sit at the bay window, thrown wide open.
The spider webs would cut thousands of crystal strokes under my windowsill in between rainy seasons, and each morning we'd sit out in the yard and I'd watch you sketch the dewdrops ebbed in the tiny satin tightropes. Your father hated them, but you wouldn't let him touch them.
"Everything so geometric and miniature. It's amazing."
The structure of my bones became geometric and miniature, too, so you could trace every line sitting in that window, with the curtains billowing like butterfly wings.
But I never noticed that you never noticed the butterflies.
You called me your little fairy girl.
"Little fairy girl," you tell me in the kitchen. My mother has just wed your father and I already like you. "Little fairy girl, so small and fragile."
Couldn't you see it, Jeremy? Couldn't you see how I followed you like a moth would to flame? You plucked me from the vine an
crash chordsHe named his guitar after me, you know. He told me he'd caress it like it was my own body. He made love to me that night, and for months after I could hear him making music-love to the me-guitar.
Three years later, I found the guitar in his garage sale.
"It's just an instrument, kid," he told me, catching me around the waist and pressing the softest kiss against my neck.
Oh, baby - I knew you would sell my soul someday. But I helped; helped you to the door, at least. As I walked out of our shared life, I broke the guitar for you. And it only struck me later that there was a metaphor in there somewhere, but I was too broken to care.
The PianoThe voice you hear is not mine. It forms words, but it's not me. I can no more speak than I could fly; not if you begged me, if you tortured me.
Once, a lifetime time ago, I could sing, and I lived for my song. Once she sang with me, and oh, how beautiful we were.
I sing no more.
I don't know where she went; far away, I believe. Perhaps she replaced me with another who sang more beautifully than I ever could. Though she tried, I give her that, she tried to take me with her; brought me all the way down to the sea shore, onto the very sands, but that's as far as I could go; the end of our life together.
Do you think me foolish, allowing myself to be so defined by her? Since she left I stayed on that beach, on a sand bank; high above the furthest waves. No-one came, no-one saw me. My life thereafter was a broken world of memory, and every thought reflected her musician's hands.
A diminished sixth, from A to F, resounded in the twilight of my first night before the sea, the mournful sound
Once Upon This WorldOnce upon this world, I was asleep. Asleep and content, blissful unawareness had overtaken me and I loved it. Once upon this world I saw what I wanted, however briefly, it was no less mine. Once upon this world, there was nothing that could make me happier than time cast into oblivion carelessly abandoned in the ether. Once upon this world, I woke up.
Keep in Touch!