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Killing MeBeing with you is killing me.
I am falling in and out of love with you,
time and time again.
Like air in lungs
IN and OUT,
I am sorry.
I just love you every beat of my heart,
and it only beats when I'm with you.
But how can I help it?
If being with you is killing me.
Hear meHey there, can i pass by a hundred times in front of you
at least that way you might notice me that i exist,
but then can i also smile at you?
so you can smile back at me.
Hey hey listen,
I have something to say
your smile makes me happy
your voice makes me sing, sing, sing.
I've been always looking at you from afar
trying to catch your attention
but you're surrounded by many that no matter what I do
I always end up here
looking and dreaming for you.
It's Everything For MeAm I asleep am I awake or somewhere in between.
I cant believe that you are here and lying next to me,
Or did I dream that we were perfectly entwined.
Like branches on a tree, or twigs caught on a vine.
Truly, madly, deeply I am
Foolishly, completely falling
And somehow you kicked all my walls in.
So baby say you'll always keep me
Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you.
Should I put coffee and granola on a tray in bed,
And wake you up with all the words that I still haven't said,
And tender touches just to show you how I feel,
Or should I act so cool, like it was no big deal.
Wish I could freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this,
or put this day back on replay and keep reliving it
Cause here's the tragic truth, if you don't feel the same
My heart would fall apart if someone said your name.
I hope I'm not a casualty.
I hope you wont get up and leave.
Might not mean that much to you,
But to me its everything
The PirateStealing is a simple task
once you’ve done it once or twice.
I am the pirate that steals no gold.
I don’t steal jewels, or food, or any material thing.
No, what I steal is young women’s hearts.
I take them, keep them, and soon, toss them away.
They fall to my every need
and are used as pretty little dolls.
They fall for my charms and good looks.
My smooth voice.
My sweet words.
They can’t see that I’m the dreaded pirate they’ve heard of.
Soon, their hearts are mine to play with.
Their bodies are mine to enjoy.
But I get bored easily
and I leave them like that.
Hm? What’s that?
Another pretty lass?
Big eyes, awkward posture, screaming innocence.
Oh! I’ve found my next toy!
That pretty lady blushes and says no,
but I keep pursuing.
Not taken, pure, and very gullible.
My kind of girl!
This girl, it seems, is different.
She took longer than the rest to get
and had boundaries that I can’t break down.
But I’m a pirate, and nothing w
Return When I Am EmptyDistraught though I may be
And all the darkness of my worry
Come back to me, when there is nothing else in my heart
I catalogue our conversations
And in a series of contemplations
Come back to me, with bottomless passion in your eyes
The night terrors rack my sleep
And make me held apart so weep
Come back to me, and stop the gap between our embrace
The linen is a sallow shade
As sun beams glow and moon dreams fade
Come back to me, to blanched world brighten again
Nourished off the ash I intake
As gravestone ground into my daily wake
Come back to me, refill my plate with honey lips
My hand is on your place
As languid days would pass in haze
Come back to me, and make my fingers warm in holding
My pillow I wet with feeble words
In attempt to console the clinging burrs
Come back to me, and cover these plants of self-destruction
Into a weakness I fall head first
In failure watch the teardrops burst
Come back to me, clearing the cumulus that took your face
Soon I shall misfile a mental fact
That Night Two Years AgoHe shut the door without a final glance.
Her tears flooded the ocean, releasing
The misery with the “status quo” trance.
Their hearts both felt a tight, painful squeezing.
The moon, full and bright, halted its orbit.
He sat alone, hidden inside the dark
Shell he calls home, and stared at her portrait,
Drawn on their night at some amusement park.
He wished to live again the memories
They shared together, when time flew away
And commitment was handled with such ease.
He understood his life was hers every day
And wondered how she’d cope with emptiness.
No matter, she’s now found true happiness.
404I tend to work under a layer
Of symbolism and metaphor
Which might seem esoteric –
Unreachable to the uninitiated.
If this is the case with you, talk to me
For a minute – or maybe more –
And you’ll find that the arcane references
Are but a fragile mask
Hiding a void –
Signifying nothing –
Except for the one I thought might see –
Might have me pegged without having to ask
With this one I thought there was a prayer
To get out from under this shell
Of sideways glances and glancing blows
Beyond to something more that might tell
Something about myself and the way I am.
With her it was always simple things –
Nothing grand and nothing great –
But something real nonetheless.
With him it was always bless and be blessed
Seeking nothing but the will of fate
To lead his life down a path of purest offerings.
With me it was always a matter of that which is seen
And that which is not, but is like the backdrop of a dream –
Felt, but not real
Als ein Schatten an der Wand
Sich mit Ruß und Träumen paarte -
Über schwacher Glut verharrte
Von ‚Vielleicht‘ zum ‚Ist‘ gespannt -
Schälte sich aus dieser Szene
Eine schlangendünne Sehne.
Jene Sehne zog Verstand,
Aus den halb versäumten Träumen -
Aus den alten, kalten Räumen
In der sie sich wiederfand,
Zog es sie hinaus ins weite,
Wo es weiße Wunder schneite.
Kaum berührte sie das Weiß,
Spürte sie mit einem Male,
Kälte bricht die zarte Schale
Ihrer Haut wie dünnes Eis.
Durch die eisig wunde Blöße,
Wuchs sie zur zehnfachen Größe.
Nur im Innern blieb sie klein,
Und sie suchte wachsend Wärme
Länder ohne Flockenschwärme,
Oder einen heißen Stein
Auf den sie sich schlängeln könnte…
Der ihr eine Zuflucht gönnte.
Als es Nacht geworden war,
Sah sie über tausend Sonnen,
Die der Schuppenschmied gesponnen
Remarks on October Festivities‘Twas the day before Halloween, when all through the school,
Not a student was present, not a seat was full.
The pumpkins and skeletons were taped to the walls with care
In preparation for the children that would soon be there.
The buses pulled up and the parking spots filled.
Students in costume straggled through the autumn chill.
And Sister with her pumpkin spice coffee, and I with my scarf
Had just stepped out of our car to see a classmate’s hair looking like candy corn barf.
I looked at my sister and she looked at me,
Her eyes gleaming with a festive glee.
“It’s the transfer student,” was all she could master.
I nodded. “Yes, his hair’s a disaster.”
The orange dye bled into the yellow—
Well, blonde—it didn’t look right on such a pale fellow.
And what with my wandering eyes did I see,
But the transfer student coming towards me.
He grinned and waved, dressed mostly in black,
While I took a surreptitious step back.
Becky's LessonBecky is a little girl,
She has everything she could ever want in the world.
That turned her into a hateful brat,
Even worse than Grumpy Cat.
One day she turned five,
She was now old enough to go to school with the other kids.
There she learned what life was about.
There she was laughed at every time she would pout.
She started to say school was no fun,
Even that it was dumb,
But then she made friends that helped teach her a valuable life lesson;
One that she would cherish even as an adolescent.
The Tale of Mr. Dark's FateOnce, a feared enemy of Rayman
And now a forgotten foe of the Past
So now the question does stand
Where did he go after defeat
Where to hide in a world so vast?
With a name such as 'Dark'
What did you really expect?
He was known for leaving his mark
Not showing remorse or paying his debts
Where to find solitude, safety at last
From the hero he had run from so fast
Time went on, and one being interfered
Though not without humor, Dark's wish they adhered
Now this rouge of the shadows had a new home
Not one of sweets but one from which he needn't roam
His company, though not silent, was loyal and not quite so cold
Though now he had lost his cloak and mysterious guise
He still had his defiant, brilliantly yellow eyes
Here in the darkness, a villain starts a new, peaceful life
For many years, there was happiness
That is, until a certain hero came again to fight
And was met once again with a mirrored face
Where once had been Mr. Dark
The form, at least, of Dark Rayman had taken his place
Tomb of HorrorsPoison gas and cursed rooms
Under boned and broken ground
Leads to Death, the king of tombs
Scream or fall without a sound
Made by leader mad and cruel
Who played and challenged Death
Forged a reoccurring duel
To enter, never more draw breath
Beneath his victims' bones and stones
Guiding weapons waged for war
Calling heroes from their homes
Yet most will die upon the floor
Twice spat back by jaws beyond
Twisted, mad, and hard
Of tricks and treachery grew fond
Death was his favoured card
A necromancer's vile dream
Or a killer's crazed delight
Though many try, both lone and team
So few can make the fight
Heroes come, killed off so quick
Though some claim to succeed
But few escape those stone walls thick
That they seek out for greed
Where torture is a form of art
And blood gives maker's smile rise
Pits of corpses, bone filled cart
A terror made for hardened eyes
Bravest heroes fear to tread
The tomb that's made to kill
Fit for none but dark and dead
Who do their lich and master's will
One Last ChanceHis thought of getting ready for anything,
his thought of getting succeeding.
Abusing the power and knowledge
was the biggest wound to bandage.
The missions that he proclaimed
for him it was easy and game.
Now he imagined to be a king
but imagined to be nothing.
He felt wrong and hurt all the time
and felt losing the happy moments and time.
Watching his failures from the beginning
was full tears that has no ending.
Now he accept all that failures
with all his heart and fame
but some people won't stop laughing
laughing at this same human being.
He tries to climb the mountain filled with his dreams
and tries to put back the life that he seems.
All his failures and pains was gone
but that one last chance was also gone.
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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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