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scenario and circumstanceopining our scheduled return to zero
of carbonic acid and myo-
paper halls pay homage
to origami champions unfurled
but we shall not be so
no whispered theophany will seduce
the hand-carved contours of our immutable earthscars
we've combed the chthonic
brushstrokes for asymmetry
and found nothing else left to surpass
a condensate lensinternal fluidity unstressed
in our bodies [of] oxidation
the primary appendix read;
'all truth through the oculus obscures'
an ode to our unpretty corpseswhen things can't coexist
sometimes the world just qualifies them on its own
with enough pure madness to drown
out the deafening silence
it is the most tenable ones left distilled
flensed and laid ritual
at the feet of Saint Cecelia
for sainted vultures to circle
and pass over in turn
a la carte [we are]
the abnormalities of this world
variegated and willing
to leave with only our grudges in tact
when cold tentacles of truth have rendered
unleavened post hoc into zinc-
and we have discovered
the subterfuge to be a more heuristic option
- more accommodating, and much more ...
( made fresh to order )
mission killersthere are no native sounds in space
::: only those you bring with you :::
on a trip to observe just how big the machine's grown
and in the well of our minds
we're preparing a party
to celebrate proper
the prodigal wolf's return home
in the twilight of impotent godsdrowned clean
we've named all the glaciers
from our enclaves enslaved
by the renegade sea
next to fossilized myths
whose canticle tones
have us chasing ourselves
a doomsayer helix
... and slowed to a crawl
this rankle of flesh
blood and it all is a mess
denumbered and waiting
for a simpler equation
or the right cue to evolve
in my own tyranny a rutterless gadget
and it's become quite addictive having no one
else in control
my eyes estranged
make animals of these shadows
in an odd pasture called midnight where i
will break many sovereign branches
will unknot all the toads with scorched feet
man t le
myself bone by bone
in the throes of a grippe
a weird ecorche
a rutterless gadget
blister packwe have many phobias
innumerable irrational fears
afraid of strangers
afraid of darkness
of being forgotten
so manslaughter kingdom come
we'll turn our wheels in un-
admonishing the glowing
lonely ghosts on their soft sober roads
well into senescense
the world of tomorrow started yesterdaywe've never been well-versed
in the heraldry of sejant beasts
derelicts with our quotidian comedy of manners
and whispering 'dear diary '
we've uploaded today's last
ossified crumbs of nostalgia
we coast through each benchmark of consciousness screaming
equal rights for ghosts
studying the mythic proportions of cosmic contronyms
and the rapid half-life decay of our viceroy star
way to protocol
so we'll be sure to sign the proper release
and get on with the evolve
The Devil on Your Shoulder
Wrapped like a gift in sheets, playing the role
of cold turkey while sweat shakes down the flesh.
Frozen in time, forced to see life flash before
the gaping eyes as though a Pale Horse had
come alone in jest and spite.
The rapid blinks that pan the camera angles for
unsettling cinematography make for a trip to an
avant-garde Hades for the audience of one.
Those damned subliminal messages hidden
in merciless metaphors.
Demons behind the curtains, sending in paper
airplanes with scribbled teasing and temptation,
awaiting their gift to open itself and become
a savory meal that would only blend with
the memories of what once was.
A husk once called man will sit, quivering alone
in the room of his own induced Hell, while those
demons cackle and drool from every angle as the
hallucinatory short films escalate into
the award-winning nightmares.
They call for him to come out and play,
with voices like friends and tones like killers.
Strength wraps the blanket tighter, absorbing
the sweat of th
Into the DarkFalling, flying, drifting
Into the dark we go
Following you though you're broken
Into the dark we go
Just One More Time
Those chains, how their cheers can resonate
in wake and dream alike. My shoulders are
strained in time without a proper word.
How bound I am from the starting line of my
own naivety to my lack of bliss in
the lack of ignorance?
I am no longer blind, but climbing my
Jacob's ladder upwards from shame
where chains pull me back
In that foolish past, I was never aware
of these bloody chains that before me countless
others have worn in varied forms and guidance.
Stable ground that welcomes my feet is
above my head, just out of reach as the
seconds take my few grains of sand.
Those chains labor me, like massive serpents
of unholy iron that constrict with
all my struggling.
Take my heart and hands, for alone
I will only fall with the inevitable
results of time and temptation.
snowtwo a.m. bitter winter wind.
lick the bag. acrid taste.
cold crawls in through windows cracked.
it's snowing in the attic.
angel hair on porcelain, point oh-one.
frost blankets my nostrils,
my brain sharp as first step's breath.
ravenous, dip fingers in nourishment.
place on tongue: cleaning agent pixie stick.
it eminates. bright-light vigor emulates
childlike mindset, so wonderfully overwhelmed
yet standing still, rock-steady at the helm.
second time. stand in line
for the second line, a second taste.
dismissive sniff, as in a tiff.
point oh-two; can't feel my face.
icicles melt, drip burning down my throat.
slick grotto-hands tap feverishly.
butane blisters nasal caverns.
i grin from the thrill of its bite.
alert, i bathe in every second of it.
much more for sentiment than any practicality-
would rather see beauty than this sorry reality-
would rather build castles than stay on the ground,
cause it's snowing now up in the clouds.
randomgiving me this revelation
i have recieved another chance
at re-entry into this world
why did you ignore me
this reasoning is flawed
perhaps this isn't what
the makers have intended
why did they ignore me
i am here again
despite their wishes
i am willing to release this darkness
only to those who deserve it
there are innocents
among the corrupted
these shall be spared
why did he ignore me
just another instance
in this container of erosion
it all closes eventually
why did we lose each other
dulleda blunt-edged sword
will never get a sheath.
it's not even a sword,
it can't cut anything.
it can't hurt you,
unless you sharpen it,
but some you just can't,
some are just defective...
still, could serve
as a metal walking stick,
but the crude form
might be embarrassing...
though in need
it can be game,
if you get bored
just throw it away...
i'll fall and fall,
tormenting my soul.
only and only for you.
the rusty blade crying his love for the black moon.
in uterojust another dull day.
the day, when i was brought here.
torn out of bliss
the moment i concieved.
seed inside the soil,
floating in amniotic fluid.
a mixture of flesh and blood,
that's, when time should've stopped...
maybe the momentary comfort
made me go forward,
but now my only regret
is ever being there...
after you leave the womb
there's your common goal:
filling the emptiness,
that lies within your chest...
and the quest:
spread like rats.
make more and more,
seek your happiness
in an empty mess...
tired and sleepy.
sing me a lullaby,
that brings a crocodile.
swallow and digest.
make me regress...
we're all just meat
in the planetary fridge
drunk eyes and sweet lips
whiskey sighs on bruised hips
particles [ ::: ]
in a recombinant box
but particles of what?
not the dna that mother gave us
or the de-
materialized ditch water that our
fathers used to bathe us
or a strange myriad of faiths...
pray to any form you like
just know that when you're gone you'll be replaced
Keep in Touch!
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