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the future was our skin
and now we don't dream anymore.
it's the late kind of light that feels
like an ending; the dog days are
slumbering on our font porch, but
they know that autumn is coming
and one morning not far from now
they'll wake up in the blueshadow dawn
i'm pouring blood on a dead faith
rattling drawers full of your lies
guilt and dried leaves crackling
against the wood.
and whether or not i can explain it
i think this is going to haunt us both;
your ghost has already become my shadow
and i swear someday you are going to
turn around and see mine sitting
cross-legged on your floor,
wearing that blue dress you always
loved, asking why you never
could see me until it was
every chance i didn't take IIYou tell him about your cancer on a Sunday,
in the shower of all places, in between brunch plans
and speculating about whether or not the weather
will ever get any colder - hasn't it been the strangest November?
Just the strangest.
You casually mention that somewhere
deep in the secret space between your hips
your own cells are proliferating uncontrollably,
whispering treason and passing down forgeries,
teaching each other the steps of mitosis with alarming intent.
You don't miss a beat as you drop survival percentages
mixed in with tomorrow's rain forecast
and predictions about the game later that afternoon -
easy as breathing, even as counterfeit armies
shred through the soft tissue just below
his favorite place on your spine.
And as you stand there
calmly making conversation
and sharing the last of the soap,
he watches the water
run quiet rivers
through your hair.
ephemerisi was a stargazer under new constellations, quiet
and dark below your october skies. the first rains of
the season sang tiny rivers against your window and
i shivered with the knowledge that tomorrow, the world
would never be quite as warm again. i arched my back
under the meteor shower of your kisses, feeling the
burn of their ice tails searing the curve of my neck,
and dug my fingernails into your shoulders to keep
myself from falling straight into the moonless night.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye; hello.
Salt on the streets and a bite in the wind to remind me that leaving - no matter where or who - will always make you ache for the pieces you are leaving behind.
Just yesterday I woke up thousands of miles away with a promise of snow out the window and your body warm beneath the sheets, and felt more at home than I have in a long, long time.
I keep thinking that maybe if I sit very still, time will pass me by, and forget to take me with it.
I want too much.
Blue Monday - blue like the sky under airplane wings, like the thousands of miles between us.
I can't stop singing or writing, wringing art from a stone.
I can't believe it's been one week since I kissed a blue-eyed 2014 hello, walked out into the cold night, brave as a sunrise, your hand held tightly in mine.
I met a boy in (Vegas, Austin, Memphis, Mississippi, Houston, New York); a boy from (Jamestown, Amarillo, C
if i am ever lost, look for me in grand central station. i'll be whispering into the arches or searching the constellation'd ceiling for that one red tile, just like you taught me, our dark hair thrown back like children. i'll be resting my bones under vaulted ceilings on the cool marble, eyes always on the arrivals, hoping that one day i might see your name.
if i am ever lost, look for me in central park. find me in the green heart of the steel city, soft wood and cold stones. i'll be talking to the homeless man who blessed me as i passed, asking him to teach me what it feels like to lose everything.
if i am ever lost, look for me in the place where the trains sleep. i'll be laying between the trestles in a bed of day-old newspapers and discarded metro tickets, listening to their dreams about journeys with no end, travelers with no destination.
all it washe talked about her whiskey voice
with the desperation of a man
clinging to the last drop
when he talked about her cancer
i saw the stars come out
behind his head
too low to hang onto
too bright not to feel
and everything was on fire
and nothing was the same
emptinessand i can feel you / sometimes / like a second skin
i can feel you / free and laughing / beautiful
/ and wild
while i shrink and sink /
under the crushing weight of air
and i can feel /
the stretch of state lines /
pulling taut / against my ribcage
miles / and miles of darkness /
as i swell to take you in
a deep sloshing emptiness
/ rocking slow /
like all the rivers
running cold / into the arms of the sea
the fighter (pt 2)I.
but damn if there isn't anything sexier
than a blue-eyed boy with a handgun
whiskey drunk and swinging for the stars
breaking bones and homes and hearts
hands dripping galaxies and blood
i loved the black ink on your hip
the pink scars on your wrists
your name still on my lips
white pickup leaving tire tracks
deep as canyons in my skin
Auditions!So, in the last entry I was talking about :icondon-hill-44: doing a Lets read of 'Gaming is Magic'
He needs two voice actors.
A deep male voice to play Mark - Link
A male British accent to play Aaron - Link
for his Let's Read
You have to be ok with MLP and Markimash lol
If you are interested, contact him!
Cadenky en Problemas 2 Cap. 5~ Natasha lleva a Franky a una sala de conciertos cerca de por ahí ~
Franky: … Este lugar es…
Natasha: Ah… parece que lo recuerdas.
Franky: Cómo no olvidar el lugar donde Cadence se presentó por primera vez…
Natasha: ¿Crees que si traemos a Cadence aquí, tal vez recuerde algo?
Franky: Bueno, ella no sabe que tiene hermanas, asique será un poco difícil que la traigas diciéndole hermana…
Natasha: … ~Le da una cachetada~
Franky: … ¿Qué te pasa?
Natasha: No digas eso que se siente feo… Además lo dice el que se va a casar ¬3¬
Franky: … ¬.¬
~ Kasane Teto – Jitter Doll (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlWfGaOUzEg)~
(LETRA NO ENCONTRADA T.T)
- Lo que acaban de escuchar es el opening (?? No tiene nada que ver con la historia pero se oye chingon –
~ Al día siguiente ~
Petey K: ¿Y cómo piensan en que Cadence rec
Dear DeathHi there.
You've shown up in a lot of media, I don't know if you've noticed. I was just watching a movie about you the other day, actually. You were kind of sweet there, like someone who came to end pain for people in suffering. I'd like to think that's what you're like.
Still, I'm pretty freaking ticked at you, sir. ... Madam. Whichever. I mean, I know it's been almost two years, but you took someone I really cared about, and I wasn't ready for him to go.
Most of the time I'm okay with it, anymore. Most of the time I can say, "My dad's dead," and not even make an awkward pause in the conversation, because usually (almost always) I can pass it off as if it's something in the past, something I've gotten over, and the people I'm talking to take their cues from me.
Other times, though, I still want to break down sobbing, or go out and find you and rip you from limb to limb as if you were a real person, because I want you to hurt like I do. I want you to lose something the way
Letter's to Divorced Dad (Girl Writer) Dear Daddy,
I hope to clear things up with you. I have been a selfish prick and I know I have been hurting you. At the time, I didn't realize the consequences picking her over you. I wanted to stay where I knew people, had more family than those liars living with you, and doing things I wanted to do. In doing this, I was hurting you so you started doing what you always did when you got hurt. You lashed out. You say that I have stabbed you in the back, but in all truth I was looking out for my best interest and you were trying to get your pride back. I'll always be your daughter, Dad, but I don't want to have the life that you were put through. I want to be with friends, I want to make you happy, but I can't make everyone happy now can I? I'm sorry, but I need you to understand. I'm a teenager. I'm going to be selfish, I'm going to be lazy, and I'm going to hate everyone every now and again. So stop pouting and be my father and not a wounded anim
GratitudeIt's hard to believe
that it's been 6 years
since I joined dA,
and began showing myself to the world,
making new friends,
and staying in touch with the old.
It's been 6 years
of learning and trying new things
while developing my skills
as both a writer and an artist
as well as learning how to better communicate ideas.
In these 6 years
I wasn't always there
when things got tough for others
but there was always someone there
to help pick me up when I was down
Hail HerI hail the suprematus
The winds, fire, water, thunder, Sun, Ether, Dimensions, Humans, Spirits, Nature, Blood, Metal, and SOMA and Life..
Anastasia's Last WordsDo not fear death. It can give you as much happiness as life does. If there was no death life would be overwhelmed with regrets. It can bring forgiveness to those who didn't expect.
Diaries of A Mad Girl To Her Invisible FriendRadio babble and a place to call home
My invisible friend,
No, I did not move to a different time zone
Sometimes I take a nap after work and then I am up for a few hours, sleep for a few more and then back to work This is the most awaited week of the year because minus two days of stress.... those two days of the year, freedom to do more fun things at work has finally arrived! I will say, it was a nice day today It was nice to see pencils moving away and nobody just staring at the paper One more day of that tomorrow and then presentation time in the evening.... I always get stage fright and jitters, but somehow the words come out. I know you do not believe I could ever run out of nonsense or be speechless, but I do have my moments
I do have a bunny story... make it more like three bunnies chasing themselves in circles around the neighbors' trees. I could not quite catch them all on video, except for my bunny running back home. I am sure they are all just playing, but
wrapped in your name is a hundred games of hide and seek, afternoon tea parties, and the squiggles of letters as i taught you to read goodnight moon and if you give a mouse a cookie. we were ten dirtstained fingers, one broken arm, four firefly eyes, two dark heads bowed as if in prayer over your broken-syllabled benediction.
every shopping cart is a cage from when we were wolves caught in the grocery store, growling at strangers until our mother made us get out and walk. the nightlight still plugged into the corner socket glows with every breath you took as you fell asleep when they moved your crib into my room.
one day at school they told you the rainforests were disappearing, and you hid in your bunkbed and cried for hours. when i finally found you, you made me promise we would both give our entire allowance to protect the trees. we washed our hands and said grace and ate dinner, and you never stopped caring about beautiful things.
i taught you how to read, and
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More