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Well shitWeaving my way through the seams
In the fabric of reality
A sound outside...
..... well now I've lost my place.
untitledIt's finally time,
For me to begin.
Digging the blades out of my skin.
For so long they just sunk in,
Cutting, ripping, slipping, farther down.
Plunged into my soul, so long ago,
The pain became a part of my life.
Stabbing me to sleep,
Gutting me, each day that I would rise.
But it tore me apart,
Shredding up so much of my heart
That it almost stopped.
So I froze my internal clock,
Closed the gate to my with a seven ton lock,
Now my hands are bleeding,
While I rip them out.
Wondering TimeWondering, wondering
Always am I
Of things that keep the stars in the sky
Sitting and thinking
And wasting my life
Thinking the sun right out of sky
I was sitting looking for a rhyme to help pass the time
Though the clock hands tick away without paying me any mind
Which is fine by me
I prefer to tell time by the skies
After all, like any bird it flies
Through our minds and bodies it winds
Riding high on thermals of growth
Coasting low as our own wind slows
And as we rattle out our last
It's off again on that final gasp
When does time lay down it's head?
When the universe is at it's end?
Or would the last star's death send it off again?
I think time will lay down it's head to die
(and so would I)
When it loses it's wind
It's reason to slack and to race
For what is time, without space?
I Belong To You I hate rain. Not really, I love it. Just not when the most beautiful, perfect, wonderful, perfect, comfortable, waterproof, perfect coat in existence has been savagely butchered by my so-called friend’s Dalmatian. Every slap of rain on my naked arms is a stinging reminder of the irreparable hole in my wardrobe.
Some people might try to fill the void with lesser coats but I can’t bring myself to betray Valentino, even after her death. Instead my slippery arms grapple with each other in wet shock as I stumble to the op shop, clinging to one last thread of hope. I know in my deadened heart that I’ll never have another coat like her. Yet here I am, blundering through the elements in my vain search for the acceptance and warmth I found wrapped in Valentino’s woollen sleeves.
Thud. My body slams into the door, making the ‘open’ sign quiver and the bells tinkle in offense. I fight for entry, the door’s assault doubled by the stale funk of
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More