| A collaboration with ~Pecavvi in two-part. |
showering in clemency.
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in the dead of nighthere, there is a rattle of bars and a crash of drums in the darkness. ringing highin the dead of night
and true, crisp in the nighttime frost
i shed my skin in the autumn so the winter might ravage me, raw.
the last few shreds of down flutter to the cage floor
and i am gone.
by ~Natalaysya
paradise lost.it's a start (you tell me)—paradise lost.
—a bird, life lived in an open cage
with wings clipped.
not nearly trapped, but close enough.
the night creeps in and the door slips shut.
i'm ready to fly away.
by ~Natalaysya
i am at besti am at best, a beautiful mess at rest against your chest and you are pounding like charging feet beneath me;i am at best
a million-man march
making the case for love.
by ~Natalaysya
there's nothing to fear...i. agyrophobiathere's nothing to fear...
time has come for a change, and i can't stand it. winds are shifting, lights are turning green but i won't go, can't go, stuck at a standstill in a river of traffic.
not even your face, your warmth beckoning from across the freeway will make me move.
i'm happy here.
ii. isolophobia
you still stand there. months have passed, the lights burn out and fade away.
your heart is the moon in midnight shining, and i am the last streetlight, all alone, and dimming fast.
don't-
by ~Natalaysya
Random Favourites
Out Of All The Reasons In The+Out Of All The Reasons In The
"it makes me feel like I am human," I say. I am just being honest. I spend most hours just watching 20/20: stolen children, Holocaust survivors, bank robbers
in Nancy Pelosi masks. It isn't as awful as
reading it back to yourself hours later in the form of ache and hunger. In the bag I carry, there is
old makeup, a murderer's selection of meat knives, Keats, and supermarket receipts. I hide my pens,
pencils, broad-tipped markers. I don't write personal
checks or sign greetings cards. &n
by `queenhrosie
Sunday in the Kitchendear mother,Sunday in the Kitchen
i ask you how far we are from heaven. hunched over the sunday paper like a patient gargoyle. your eyes blinking too often, and tongue snaking around in your mouth, as if the answer is hidden between your teeth.
dear mother,
you hum holy bars in the kitchenette. say "hallelujah means praise yahweh, praise the lord" say "angels must rest on the tongue of that word" say "angels, oh angels hallelujah, hallelujah, rest in me"
but you haven't slept in weeks. i hear you sob sigh into the night like a prayer. like your table lamp is the cl
by ~HornlessUnicorn
Watchers
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IsolateddeviantID
| exhale and let me be freed from your lungs for you breathe too deeply in my wake. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: brantford.
- deviantWEAR sizing preference: small.
- Interests: writing. drawing. dreaming. walking. using sentence fragments.
- Favourite movie: v for vendetta.
- Tools of the Trade: scalpels, sutures, staples and stitches.
- Email: akweatherbee@yahoo.ca
- MSN: runninwitscizzors@hotmail.com
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xo!
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an antique arms and armor expert
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Man, if you gotta ask you'll never know.
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Man, if you gotta ask you'll never know.
xo!
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an antique arms and armor expert
xo!
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an antique arms and armor expert
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A pay phone was ringing, just about blew my mind. When I picked it up and said "Hello" a foot came through the line!
I'll choose one to toss up here for ya.
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day by day
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