My Sweet Unconcious, Please Be Read By Mortal Eyes
| Sounds. | Jun 24, 09 @ 11:06pm |
| Searching...
Waiting.... Listening.... (Can you hear my heartbeat drown out the sounds of the outside?) Deafing, Blinding, Suffering, (Can you hear my heartbeat drown in the sound of your screams?) Losing-- Gaining-- Scarring-- (Can you hear my heartbeat drown agaisnt the static of life's stillborn child?) Looking; Drowning; Screaming; Static. Sounds, those bickering, pestering.... Violently lovely sounds.... Can you hear my heartbeat drown agaisnt the static of life's stillborn child; in the sound of your screams; out the sounds of the outside? (I didn't think so.) |
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current mood: ... current music: none. |
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| I Hear Your Whispers (Do you hear mine?) | Jun 22, 09 @ 10:43pm |
| Ending a life anew afar,
my dear angel send me a sign; I whisper sweet nothings into the air, but sadly I cannot hear-- Ring the chapel bells on high and trample the wings of the Gods, Tonight we shatter the worlds above; tonight, we learn to breathe and die. |
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| To The Angels... | Jun 16, 09 @ 12:26pm |
| Divine intervention... Please molest the heart and eat the mind. In sickening prose one owes so much to a devient drone of flesh and perversion. The pain of lust lies deep withio the mossy doused thighs of the ancients... No? | |
current mood: Hm.. current music: my heartbeat and a sink faucet |
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| If You Find This Inappropriate, You're Not Doing Life Right. | Jun 14, 09 @ 5:56pm |
| Name: Fey Age: 16 Location: California Position: Alpha Submissive Brat Status: Single Lifestyle or play: Lifestyle sex: Female experience: 4 boys, 3 girls but only had 2 boys and 3 girls sleep with me. relationship status: Single looking for a dom?: Yes. Fetishes: Bootplay, Corporal Punishment, Light Flogging, Bondage, Corsetry, Leather, Dress-up, Puppyplay, Militaryplay, restraints, Orthophilia (Being Bitten) |
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current mood: Fiesty current music: my heartbeat and a sink faucet |
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| Read Me. | Jun 14, 09 @ 4:28pm |
| IN FATE'S HANDS:
The sky became riddles with pinks and gold, clouds skinning the horizon. Her eyes were set on his chateau. Her hands began quaking and shaking nervously as she walked on to his door. Scarlett needed to see him, watch him create another masterpiece. Observe him sketch out delicious words on parchment. Smile at his songbird of a voice— "SCARLETT!!" A voice joyously cried from a window. She looked up. Blush filled her cheeks as this man smiled down at her. "Let ME IN, You silly man!" Her voice piped out, curved body in a tatty bodice and dirty dresses running to the door. A sudden twist of the knob and there she saw— "DANTE!!" Blush rolled over her cheeks and stars fell into their eyes. Dante held Scarlett close to him. Scents of rosewater, lavender and light musk attacked his nose. Thick curls hid his red face as he and this lovely woman crept up the craggy stairs, each footfall causing them to creak and moan. His dark eyes stared diligently on the floor, a nervous flutter in his gut in the middle of his thin frame. Paint and ink covered his body from head to toe. Some called these two creatures crazy for being in love. Outsiders called it lust for creativity. Others called it lust of heart. "Dante…what have you finished today?" Said Scarlett in a singsong tone to her lush creator of ink parchment and canvas. " A new poem, a background and the face of the girl in my new painting." He shut the door behind them and they stood in the musty little second floor of the chateau. Scarlett sat down in her chair and he sat next to her in his stool in front of the painting. The windows were covered in a light coat of dust. Canvases lined a few corners of the walls, parchment lay on the desk. Paints were on every sill or so of the nine windows that were in the house. But by one window there stood a rocking chair covered in an old thin quilt and a few small pillows lay on the day bed they both shared. Three months ago, she roamed the streets for love. A home. Covered in two inches of dirt, fleas and a half starved body and heart, Dante took this whore in with open arms and an open compassion. He let her stay, helped her live again. Revived her from a common street rat to a graceful woman who seemed too good to be true, into Scarlett Munechildre once again. She, on the other hand, saved Dante from a lifetime of pain and meaningless existence. All of his twenty four years as a creator and a victim of fate he never once met a beauty such as her. One so coated in mystery, poverty, and unopened doors to the feeling and psyche. She helped him back into the mindset he once had… Dante Rendavre. Silence was light and airy in their home, Scarlett's and Dante's. She took a deep breathe in, happy and carefree. As did he, but a sudden cough spasm grabbed hold of his throat. Blood lightly layered his white handkerchief as his attack when on. "Darling?" Scarlett frantically asked, holding up her love. He shook his head and took a small vile from his pocket, drinking the clear liquid. "It's…it's nothing! I'm fine, my dear!" He reassured her, standing up from his stool and kneeling down in front of Scarlett. He held her hand tightly and kissed them, eyes shut tightly as he tried to calm himself and her. "My turtledove…please sing your song to me…" "Daydreamer, what may I ask is your wish this night? The glow of her shines so bright Upon your face in delicate sight Slowly, drifting, caressing the day a good night. Daydreamer, what do you need from me this night? Do you wish to show me the light of your skin under those tight fitting, slinky whorish clothes? Lightly..." As she sings to him, Dante drifted into a peaceful sleep. Scarlett, not letting his hands go, leaned down and kissed his pale face softly in a loving good night. XXX "You look lovely, Scarlett." Dante coos to her, seeing her dark brunette curls in the springtime sun, her lovely body in a simple white wedding gown. She held his face in her hands, looking him up and down in his new vest and shirt. His wavy hair pulled back by a new ribbon they managed to buy with the little bit of money they had made the past two months. "As do you, my lovely." Scarlett stood ever so close to him, reaching behind her back and pulling out a paper ring. Dante blushed, as he always did in front of his Scarlett, and pulled out from his pocket a small ring fancied from twigs. Sliding the ring onto his darling's finger, Dante slowly felt the strength leave his body. His face running cold, heartbeat slowing to a stop... But he couldn't tell Scarlett. Not on the day of their wedding…no….never… "I do…" Scarlett whispered. It came to a hilt, the ring. She eyed it lovingly and began to slip her ring to his finger. But as she did, a sudden stop in breath came about. Strain in muscle, in arms and in heart. "Dante!?" She asked out, on the verge of tear. Her body couldn't take the weight that started to push on her flesh, her shoulders. Pressure: pure, cold as ice glazed over. His eyes stared gently and piercingly back at hers in a dark, saddened iciness that could only cause her to scream. Blood dripped slowly from his pale rose of a mouth onto the paper ring. Crimson soaking slowly into the paper, twitches appeared in Scarlett's face…. A breath wasn't heard escaping his lips. His eyes glazed over in a slowly growing milky gray, a lone tear escaped his orbs. A loud sob left her mouth, and a river of tears ran from her eyes as she held her dead love's body close her hers; his cold and stiff flesh chilling to hers, warm and shaking. XXX The following Sunday, Scarlett had stayed in her wedding gown. Dante, however, sat posed and bloodstained in the old quilt, in the rocking chair by their window. A few daisies in a small glass vase were set next to him to brighten up the place by the sill. Even a turtledove was hung to ease the hush. "Lovely…" She would coo every hour, nervously to her corpse. Walking over to him, she rustles his hair free from dust and flies, stroking his cheek contently afterward. XXX Monday rolled by, sunrise hitting the greasy corpse of the artist. The former whore, however, laid tear stricken and mourning on their bed. Still in her gown, ring on her finger, eyes red; she grabs his hand and hold it tight. She swears she feels a pulse in his dead skin as she seized it. Tuesday came and went. Decay hit his body harder then before. The bright rays of the spring sun backed his deteriorating muscles through the hours. Scarlett, slowly losing weight, still spoke to her lifeless lover, as insane as she slowly was becoming. As Wednesday rolled to a start, she began to detach herself from the rest of the world that didn't consist of her and Dante's deceased remains. The dress she wore began to sag on her ever thinning body, her hunger pains were nothing compared to the heartbreak in her chest. The curves that once graced these bones now only held weakening sinew and dying muscle. Dante, though the days of Thursday and Friday, stayed in place. Roasting, cooling, and stinking up the small two story chateau. The stench of rotting meat and ammonia began to cling tightly to the air. Scarlett crawled from the bed Saturday morning. She left her ring on the sill near the daisies. Barely any strength in her bones. A moist smell of bile and fresh vomit grabbed a hold of her gasp and her dressing gown. An off yellow stain clung to the fabric. "Dan…te…" She rasped, smiling weakly. Climbing to a stand by grasping the corner of the day bed to eye her love, "My….M..y love…" Her eyes locked to his, glossy and rotted. Cracked lips and a creaky spine slowly leaned down to kiss a pair of mold covered petals. A pulse started to drop. Breathing came to a halt. Color was lost and strength was gone. The church bells chimed twice for two in the afternoon, and a bird's song echoed through the still chateau. Silence. Love never dies, but people do. |
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| Midnight Hour | Jun 14, 09 @ 2:14am |
| Let me destroy you.
He whispered to me, in the dark of the night, Under the thistle tree. I asked him, why...please don't let me go. NO, he grunted, Let me show you how we play, in the midnight hour, Under the stars, during the ragnarok, show off your scars. I want to destroy you, contures of your face let me know suffering is such a sweet taste |
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current mood: Lonely. Keep Me Company? current music: ... |
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| Read Me. | Jun 14, 09 @ 12:22am |
| Crush the spinal colom of the weak,
Define a membrane for the strong-- What else to lack but common sense? Only to know that you are wrong. Taming of the beast is a harsh task At hand, To demolish your self esteem (so small) Poetic anarchy that is the feast Of mold, mutilation, and bone. Communist red is the sky, Nazi black are the clouds, What else to do but sit and ball your eyes out til the wet is gone. Take thee as thine servent, Break thee in like folded steel; Make me into your perfect pet, And let me by your feet, kneel. --xxx |
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current mood: Devient current music: NCIS- DEAR ABBY MARATHON |
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