| the world forgetting by the world forgot. |
second chance simon.
Newest
night terror.night terror.night terror.
a crash course on human nature: discontentment, lust, destruction. we rinse and repeat. i knew a soul like it was my own, once. we were in perfect sync throughout our years of discord. shells, we were, buried in sands the colour of ash and we found eachother through sheer coincidence. one and the same, two rings of silver worn over time until there was no shine left within us. we would walk our paths of dust for days [never running. our lives were chasing a short space behind, but we never ran] until there was no grey dust left to wa
by ~livexforxliars
my sweet, my songless.my sweet, my songless. my caged bird.my sweet, my songless.
phaedra has strayed from the path of good sense. i know a place in which there are no questions no tongues to speak, no eyes to explore and in its dark centre there is a puzzle that will not be reassembled. there is a spiderweb stretching from east to west in which i lie immobile and knowledge paralysed. i am the ugly duckling of truth (read as: i have trouble expressing myself things i know but cannot prove, an endless spray of saltwater against the gaping holes in my soulmeetsflesh.) in order to get an image, you must know sy
by ~livexforxliars
salinae.salinae.salinae.
oliver, the sun won't rise for another three hours or more and you have me rapt until she wakes the treebranches and windowpanes. do you have the time to teach me love? i am not so well versed, but i've heard it means the following things: staying cocooned in the bedsheets until noon has passed. notes on the fridge door reminding me to use the opened milk. letting me think you forgot my birthday, and surprising me three days later with lindor chocolates and a pack of morinaga sweets and a night curled up on the couch with the foreign movies i love so much. talki
by ~livexforxliars
little ted.little ted.little ted.
sometimes i bite my nails jagged and i run their ragged edges over my cheekbones. i look in the mirror; eight rivers of angry red are staining the blank white canvas of my face and my eyes are black holes above them, empty pockets of space which, from a far enough distance, like maybe 50 miles north of your house, look like
by ~livexforxliars
| don't cut me out. |
Random Favourites
i, the ever-scared lioni am breathing for the urge to tell you something beautifuli, the ever-scared lion
i do not kiss with lips but with sweet bones thrust sunward, wondering what it is like to be embraced by the arms of a skeleton
the king and queen and monarch (butterfly) crowns of roses or holly, winter brings cold and thoughts of you
i, the ever-scared lion, shudder in my sheets
i can show you fear in a handbasket, the girth of the sun snapping leather belts until our faces fall to the earth
the bottle was broken, message pecked by gulls- i hope you know i sa
by *ohsostarryeyed
Loss, in five Actsi. ReturnLoss, in five Acts
Through a dark tunnel
of bent birch and cedar I walk. Soft moss on cobblestone. Home.
The tilted bird bath drips with
tea coloured rain. Vines snake up
old walls even as the sandstone crumbles.
Decaying gutters sag with sad, welcoming smiles, heavy with dead leaves and the fallout of terracotta tiles.
ii. Memory
On her lap, in the evening, swinging on the front porch chair. Humming
a lullaby, she whispers softly and
marks with a brush of her ringless finger,
magpie and minor, chicken and hen &nbs
by *brassteeth
Webcam
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- 135 Wow-tography. Photos to catch the eye - Aug 20, 2009
- 208 [Extra]Ordinary People - photos [part VII] - Aug 19, 2009
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deviantID
| my wish tree was golden in the summer sun of the 90s, a rainbow of ribbons carrying secret prayers on the wind. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: painted on australian walls.
- Interests: the inherent loneliness of an empty seat.
- Tools of the Trade: don't leave your life in taxi cabs.
happy birthday to me.
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--
lovely lyrical lines.
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30 amnesias; après moi, le déluge. Je suis désolé.
project reciprocation: [link]
take a good look down.
--
Icon base by *Kiss-the-Iconist
--
30 amnesias; après moi, le déluge. Je suis désolé.
project reciprocation: [link]
take a good look down.
--
Icon base by *Kiss-the-Iconist
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