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Terror on TopThere is nothing I want more, nothing I desire more strongly than to feel you below me, asking me, begging me, to continue. Your need is stronger than your desire, and I can feel every ounce of that need enveloping me, swallowing my ability to control, to stop my shaking senses. I inhale, searching for your fear, but chocking on my own. Are you ready to be told, to be sold into slavery of my heart? I don't know where my hands go, except feeling them around your neck, fingers slipping into their nooks with force. My hands are home. I don't know whose really in control, but I feel you slipping away, I continue to ride the waves, each thrust causing my anger to rise, I hear you cry out, I want you to scream for me to stop, only to be drown by my fingers, stinging your face. I taste your sweat, I place dirty wagers on whose going to cum first, inside my head of course. I don't want you to know. I just want to hear you say please. Fuck, I am so terrified.
There Was This Girl...... and she was alone, in the quiet of the womb. She waited anxiously for the great happening to pass so she could finally see love. It burned inside her. There was this girl that thought so frequently of love that she convinced herself that that was actually what she had been created from. Love.
There was this girl that made it through the great happening, saw love for the first time. So she thought. As suddenly as it appeared, it had withdrawn from her. There was this girl that wondered why the great happening had to be so painful. Where did love go?!? She felt it withdrawing from her, leaving her trembling, naked, screaming. There was this girl that saw lights and faces and heard sounds and felt cold, wet, felt shivers for the first time. She could smell the heat of the moment, the sweat pouring from her body and from the Ones body as well. But through it all, she could not feel it, she could not find love. There was this girl that had been born into the absence of love.
There was t
IntensityThe darkness caresses me, ebony rainbows silently flowing.
Your touch, like the brush of Butterfly wings on unseen things,
Ignites something darkly inside me and I wait. I attempt to
Call our your name, to ask to be saved, to give into grace.
But the world around me collapses and fades, and all this
From the mere embrace of your finger tips.
I inhale one last time and right before I start to die,
you return to me with your fire and ice, once,
then twice, you revive me. You engulf my body and we
fall away to the sea, just the stars and the trees and all
of eternity escaping from your hands. I attempt to be stable
but sinking sands are over come, my heart and my breath
are on the run, can not be caught, because I am being taught what
it means to find euphoria.
I am reaching hysteria and then when it seems I will find defeat,
our eyes meet and you smile. Your skin brings forth the softness
of moss in the moonlight, the power Of a single candle in the sunl
Hiking BootsI thought of you today, while walking, in moments of sunshine admits
All this grey. I thought of ways I could say what's been keeping
Me up at night. The things I fear, the things I like. The things
I can't keep in sight for very long. Because without a notice or
A farewell song, they are gone from me.
In a moment of solidarity, I took a path divided in three.
I just wanted to wander, I wanted to see. I wanted to be
Missed for one fleeting moment. I wanted you , I wanted
Something. I wanted the stars to die and for you and I
And everything I loved to be gathered into one place.
I imagined all of eternity's beauty in a single space
And he was standing right in front of my eyes. I neither
Took for granted nor seemed surprised. I simply smiled.
I kept walking, but not for very long. Because in this moment, in
the sunshine and the farewell song, I realized with a start, right where I belong.
Can We?Can you sit a while with me? There is something I need to tell you.
I have been trying for 24 years to get through to the other side,
To finally have a release and find peace in solidarity. To realize my purpose
And find clarity. But I think I have been bidding my time until now.
With my eyes adverted towards to ground I stand before you naked and
Vulnerable, waiting for you to turn the table. Waiting for you to realize you
Are unable to see me. But I hold my breath, and then you speak.
You ask me to whisper to you my dreams. You ask me to believe in these things,
to be unafraid for a change. To write my poetry, to turn the page, to know for
certain that there will be another day. You beg me to listen to your heart beat, to
take a seat next to the lilies and lies. To take from misery the golden skies
with ample opportunity. You ask me to see. To no longer count to three
before I jump. To just be faithfully blind and love. To let the peace I have be enough.
To let go of my hu
Returned HopeBreath taking, stolen. You came into my life with
your golden skin, your blue eyed sin that glimpsed
into my very soul. Stole, yes taken, my grief in my
utterly forsaken hopelessness. You made me commit
to something I have been so afraid of, something
that I know I am not made of. Hope.
When I had lost my faith and I could not cope,
you were there with Vodka and a rope, a net,
a catching glove and a smile. Moments passed and
after a while I could breath again. I stopped thinking
of him, I even stopped hating. I think
I have simply been waiting for someone honest,
someone with more than an empty promise.
So as you lie there and we begin our trip,
I smile slightly and bite my lip and remember,
There will not be a dreary December because
you have returned my hope and peace. I wanted a release
and you granted me a sea in which to find myself.
Where as we may never be anything else,
You have my desire for a "friend".
You are him.
TomorrowTomorrow isn't such a long time when we have eternity before us,
I hear you whisper my name and it's like a chorus of angels...
maybe it's demons, but that voice has given me enough reason to hold on,
to stay strong, to finally belong to something bigger than myself.
There is a peace in and of itself when I remember your fingers tracing,
replacing my scars with purity again, removing my sins and allowing me
to heal from within, whereas I never thought it possible.
I never would have thought it believable that I could love without convictions,
without bartering, without fearing and simply tolerating. To love is impermeable,
but to be loved by that for which you would die, is not measurable in this
language or the next. It is a triumph, a passing of a test, a final exam
before our forever can begin. And alas! It has begun. I have
fought for so long to find it, and now I have won. I do not claim to deserve
it, but it is mine to claim and run with. And that is what I will do.
SpeakThe times are as dependent and derived as
they were yesterday. I step down from the ladder
atop my stage and walk to the audience, to
kneel and repent, and set my eyes upon you.
I hand you the microphone and ask you not
to condone what I do here, just swallow your
fear and for once open your everlasting mouth.
Do not doubt what you feel, do not question what's
real, do not ask for a deal or a bargain. Just begin.
I take my seat, resting my aching defeat, and waiting,
desiring nothing more than to hear what you
are saying when you think I am not listening.
The sweat on your palms is glistening but I am still
looking, breathing, waiting, because it is your turn.
You try to learn the lay of the stage, you try to find
a way to make it play in your benefit. But I will sleep
here if I must until you finish it, the song that you have
been writing from the moment we met. The dogs have been
fed, the plants are wet, the anger is dead. It is just
you and me, at a quarter to three. I wi
BlueTo sleep where you have slept, to inhale the air that
you have left, to caress the same curtains you closed
last night would leave me with no sight, no sound,
no air, no ground, only a lost and found in my heart.
I have torn my mind apart, trying to grasp at the memories
when we last whispered because we knew that we must
hurry, in moments there would surely be an interruption.
The seduction was more than that, it was the white rabbit
and the black hat, it was a treacherous trap, because we knew
that with black and blue tomorrow would seperate us forever.
Forever, for never, I don't know anymore. I opened a door
and you walked right through, no invitation needed because
you knew you were welcomed. Whose past is darker is not
even the issue, it's simply that we both knew that there was a
darkness so deep that only one as dark could see the light
in the other. Rather an AWOL father or a deranged x, there is
simply no simple sex, no morning regrets, no calling cliffs. There
is only this.
A Poet's EchoCan poetry be felt in the blood, in the veins
with each lyric being harmonized through dreams slain
Each epic speaking of places both far and nigh
With each melancholic elegy seeping pain?
Can verse performed by thunderstorms in the sky
Be what compels us to express our hearts, to cry?
How many poems have been written using tears
As ink, written until our souls have been bled dry?
Have decades of weeping filled the seas with our fears
And our nightmares penetrated mountains likes spears?
Can a poet's echo resound beyond the chain
Of mortality and fate's tyrannical leer?
The mosaic of life.The streams of color,
flowing and endless.
The mosaic of life never ends,
all it does is start a new panel.
One to be filled in by you.
Poem for Lou ReedTruly singular, an outsider’s outsider,
He learned well life’s hard truths, and was walking proof that
Your thoughts are only as deep as your faults.
Subjected to psychic savagery in his youth,
His mind took on an ever-changing persona
Always shifting between fame and failure.
A misfit, a hustler, a rake, a transformer,
A rogue, but not a charlatan, an objector,
But not a coward, never a coward.
An expert spinner of verse, he possessed a knack
For feel, impact, attitude, style; he always knew
Which words were those worth the listener’s while.
His means and his methods were fittingly erratic:
He would spend his days crafting curiosities
Only to then neglect and forget them.
What was important, though, wasn’t his works or quirks,
Nor his talent for causing a storm at a stroke,
But what he and his friends set in motion.
They would, unwittingly, forever change the way
We’d hear the sounds the mind thought it already kn
I Am: 2I am only the friend you talk with in class, the neighbor you only wave hi to, and the student you pay no attention. I wait and
I wonder when someone will come and question me, question the things I do and why I do them for
I hear this floating voice that belongs to no one and
I see a shape that resembles a person and
I want no more than to mold and sharpen that image into someone... but
I fear that will never happen for
I am only the friend you talk with in class, the neighbor you only wave hi to, and the student you pay no attention.
I pretend to actually talk with my friends, face to face instead over wavelengths of the internet; hear their voice and see their smiles and stupid hand gestures! I felt...
I feel like they're really there. That people I've never met are with me in my room, sitting next to me- and I really want that. I know
I touch them; emotionally, that is.
I worry about that, actually. I'm happy to know that I've had an impact on people I will never know. And more tha
The Beginningons ago, before time and space,
Was born a set of twins who took its place.
One had eyes of daybreak and hair of sun,
The other, hair of night and eyes of blood.
Born to Laelia, Singer of Light and Love,
Husband to Laelius, God who rules with a fitted glove.
‘Twas a difficult birth, screams echoed through the empty world,
But Laelia was never alone or so the story told.
Lucifer was first, life entered with hollow cries,
Laurentius was next, his smiles greeted by butterflies.
Both welcomed with joyous celebration.
Excited Laelius, humans, his creation.
The Twins then never left each others sides.
Except when heavy choices caused morals to collide.
I miss youIf there could be any way
That I could just reach your hand
And hold it tight in mine
Is it so far away
I just seem to be unable
To catch it
I love you
The moon's full now
And keeps me awake
All along the dark night
The stars get weaker every time
I look above at them
And you aren't there
I love you
It's been too long
Your eyes are fading from my mind
I can't remember them in detail
Your face's lines
Are blurry when I try to see it in my head
I love you
I miss you too much even
My tears are all used up
My eyes are dry as the cold wind
Blowing around me
I'm frozen to the bones
I miss you
Why I Hold On TighterThe gunshot echoes penetrating the air,
Increasing tensions in military warfare.
Knives that puncture and slice apart,
Fists of rage that damage skin and heart.
Explosions and smoke so sudden and fast,
No time to recover from the devastating blast.
A moment frozen in time after the disease diagnosed,
Tears falling on a body lifeless and comatose.
Car horns and screeching wheels on the pavement so loud,
Two victims of a crash of the rain from a cloud.
Though all of these things do not fill me with fright,
It is to you, my dear, they make me hold tight.
Vulnerable YouthPaper hearts from bright pink tissue meant for presents,
fanciful butterflies from orange dashed cardboard,
five petaled flowers danced around the sentence
of simplicity, ultimately to discard.
Tender thoughts from censored, guarded minds,
boldly do the simple stubby fingers strive to hide
the gift from Mommy, so that she can't find
the secret depth of the darkest snide.
The gentle pressure of acknowledging gestures
even the meaningless thank you cards
meant to send you on emotional adventures,
only to be shredded on cynical hearts' shards.
But it is the thought that counts,
those sweet little eyes haven't yet been renounced.
NeedlesThe meat is cold from bloodless lust
My organs are damaged
Path be taken down range-
-And end with chilling wall
Forest of needle spires climb
My height cannot ask
Deem the stars they point-
-For reverence physical
Destroyed as winter comes
Invested into my stock
I am bought and brought home
With no escape from the lock
Needle sew a coat of iron
Black with the char left by
Remembrance make me a scion
And kindle a soul inside
Lids have shut and no key breaks
I cannot see between blades
Cut the night to ribbons-
-Now banners to losing way
Imposing in my blindness wait
My feet are icy cold
The forward march is death incarnate-
-Though I am numb to catch
A fabric stolen mask and clothe
The boundary pointed shed
Once streamers bleeding dry wove
The semblance of disjointed ends
No try can match the mind at work
For ochre has my pallor drained
This raiment bears a doubting murk
Through glacier impassive face
My asking wanes with setting freeze
The armour frozen bites
A pleading body already w
Before MeWhat's more beautiful?
The over radiant glow of your
skin or your dressed down soul?
The way I pant and sweat in desire,
the way you ignite my body with erotic fire?
Am I lost in your eyes again or are we
going together in sin to that place
I love? Did you know you were more
than eternity, more than enough to
I can't bear such an explosive entity
before me. Yet here you are.
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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