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librarylibrary labyrinth, I watched the shelves dissolve into a maze;
their walls a barrier that
between books, and books, and paper;and words, they match her pupils;and letters, they warn me not to stare -
I stare, she does not stare back and so it's
back to pages and
papers of olden days,
their flavours wave beneath my tired
nose my wakeful
nose my wary
open mouth my
beating heart my
heart it courses through my skin I feel
shelves - they creak like cages; between bars between books I see her feathery waves they
crash on barren shores at midnight, this cannot be:
"Are you okay?
Do you need to go for a walk or something?")
she cannot save me are you sure;? her voice is beating on my skin like tides they do not wash away they seek to drag with them: oh,crash.ing.throb.ing.beat.ing.heart. . .
to walk with
Primitivedon't ever think i'm ahead of you. i'm years behind you. i'm trapped eras and eons ago, where a new sun is warming pulsing, breathing earth. new earth. i'm old and i'm new. i'm new and i'm here to devise the newer. i am sitting at the edge of dawn, my feet dangling from the shore and dipping into oceans, stirring, shifting the future. i am howls in the dead of night. i am feral screams and giddy moans that eroded the world and made it the never changing, always changing universe we walk on every night. i am a million stories of heartache and loss. i am one thousands tales of love and discovery. i am pleasure dressed in pain. i am beauty drenched in the vulgar. i am here and i will always be here. i was then and i will always be then. i am the first sigh the earth breathed to welcome its delicate subjects of life. i am a gentle lie and a deeper truth. i am the beginning. i am the end. i existed long before human opened his quivering eye. i am not the light from thoughtful irises. i am t
encore -Can't you see? He's falling in love with you.
Don't you feel it the moment you fall away from the others, cackling and hooting ahead while you talk in shy voices. You can see it in the way his dark eyes hold the glimmer of the streetlights. You can hear it in his tone, which dances with a few extra inflections as it dares to think and hope. He doesn't want to fuck you mindlessly in the park ahead. He wants to kiss you one thousand times before he sees you naked. He wants you to raise his children and he's already holding them, now carrying them on his shoulders, now walking them to their first day of school. He loves them and he's proud of them because they're him-and-you. He doesn't count your curls but he strokes them with his mind; he doesn't grab your ass though he marvels at your figure. He doesn't know you. He doesn't know you but he's already in love you with. Now you're laughing by a whirring waterfall, now you're staring at the deep summer sky through the silhouette of birch t
lethargyI'm holding on to lethargy,
and we are
ashes in each other's arms.
and can you see your chars
reflected in my eyes?
dusty orbs of crumbling lies.
I cannot hear your heartbeat
because mine is still as stone;
I wish you heard me moan like
the cries of limpid ghosts, but
they mourn the dead
and I deceased for you
too long ago.
funeralI did not speak at your funeral.
Though you knew me as a writer
I did not write a speech.
On the way to the funeral I stood on my
front porch and heard the
copper leaves rustle and
decided that was enough. The
wind spoke all that was needed from
The others wore black and
even though the words were
I said nothing.
I did not
cry. I heard jokes and happy memories
but I thought they were dark.
I could pour my memories into the
empty air and whisper how
something that created me was
I could murmur
meant anything anymore
but they wouldn't believe me.
You wouldn't believe me, if you heard
what they said about you.
They loved you, but I loved you
I think I started to cry
but you didn't see my
so they didn't matter.
I sobbed and
the earth was silent and
I did not speak at your funeral.
manicstuck to mountains, falling into skies and breaking through clouds.
thinnest lips extend to grin - one thousand hyenas merge their cries;
one hundred miles of words per minute,
one dozen essays, one million novels,
tumbling, screaming, clashing together.
teeth grating on train tracks,
wires wound round bones, tightened;
the skeleton shatters,
the sparks are flying,
the pages burning,
the beasts are choking,
the mountain tumbles.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More