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The MothsAll the broken people sway as one
To the pulse of the music.
They hover in the neon light like
Moths attracted to a fluorescent flame,
Gulping down vodka as though it's sugar water.
And it burns
But not as much as the searing self-hatred.
Their minds spin and soar above reality
Until they laugh and buzz and scream
With the euphoria of sweet freedom
Too soon their wings are ripped off,
Leaving them with vague memories
Of superficial happiness and stains on their
Pretty white dresses.
We Are Prostitutes And JunkiesThe ribbon binding our cervical ribs together
is resolved fire and
quantum mechanics wrapped in beat-one-egg-until-fluffy.
Cut your teeth on my frightened way of life,
point fingers at the spiders in my closet,
I told you
together we could divide the universe by zero
and find the answer in the rubble.
But I was too delirious
to write down the name on my night-stand,
so I might have been wrong.
Forewarning was rolled off my shoulders
and picked up by the orphans
who wanted to have a life,
and yesterday I found
why I must listen.
are no more entrancing than my sighs, you said.
The sway of her fiending lusts
held no ground, you said.
But I told you poets never find
Strangers tell me I should eat more,
the world is not nearly as revolting as I write it;
I told you the sun would swallow us up one day
and you asked
what became of my opium laced assumptions.
And Tonight My Prayer Was XAnd tonight my prayer was:
So today the brightest green of new buds met the clearest blue of the sky. And the blue met the yellow of a freshly picked daisy, which brought with it the clearest white of newly fallen snow. With them travelled the soft pink of a child's cheek, blended with the black of a starless night and the orange of this summer's brightest midday sun. On the road the purple of heather ran alongside as dog to his master. And as they moved on together, they left our world the bleakest grey.
Only then did we notice we'd chased all the colours away.
The Child WatchesThe sun in my eyes felt like someone was kicking me in the jaw. I was so high I thought my eyes would fall out. Standing shaky on the thinning grass, I realized I had to catch the train home. I ran 5 blocks and got there just as the operator was locking the front compartment. Resting up on the 701, with the sterile light slipping beneath my eyelids. Puerile breathing in front of me. I open my eyes and am being stared at. Eye contact with a child is always easier than eye contact with an adult. Adults always look away quickly, embarrassed of their booming thoughts, convictions, judgments. Children stare straight at you and lay it all out on the table.
"You look tired."
"I know," I said
The Society and The IndividualI was born independent and the biggest mistake I ever made was falling into the arms of society. Free will has become an option, and that is where we have all lost ourselves. You can either choose to live, or avoid the things you will never know by experiencing things at your own discretion.
We are the creator of our own lives.
Nothing VictoriousI saw a new universe begin with a dream,
there was no one else around to notice the difference;
The others, having followed pied pipers for years,
remained motionless, as they had been processed
and were now all plastic icons of Jesus, resting on pallets,
ready to be shipped to China.
They screamed, uttered "Mama," and sometimes
shouted obscenities at the Holy Father,
while in the distance, the occasional bleats of
black sheep told me to stop counting my
blessings and begin noticing the near future.
I looked and saw a white horse, and sitting on
its back was Nothing.
And Nothing told me about his plan:
Nothing will bring order, Nothing will erase our history,
Nothing will make us forget all we've done, and learned.
I climbed on the white horse, and I rode away
with Nothing, heading toward the sunset, where I,
along with Hatred, Bigotry, Greed, Pride, and so on,
perished with the final setting of the sun,
following to the east, the dawn of humanity.
the Millennia LaterDesolation has its own stark beauty. It's in the limbs of dead trees twisting up, pleading at the grey sky. It's in the air, cold with a faint hint of smoke and the barest breeze that stirs up the dust at your feet. The white-grey ash falls like snowflakes, dusting your hair, your coat, your mask. You catch one of the flakes and it crumbles between your gloved fingers. The ground is packed as hard as concrete under your boots as you turn your back on this cold, still world. You look up; the moon is barely visible. You will carry that memory with you as you go back underground. Mankind no longer has use for the stars.
Untitled, as of yetDid you think I was cool when you met me? I worried about that. I worried that you would think I was too much when you met me. Because I was listening to Patti Smith while we watched Tim Burton movies, because I was too high to think straight and fell asleep all the time and wore those fake topsiders and hated everybody in my classes. I worried that you would think I was trying to be cool, and think that I was failing because all of those things were pretty not cool.
But I didn't care a lot and you said "So you're pretty eccentric huh?" when you met me and I said, "I don't think so, no?" And I was confused. So we just danced at Sundance and drank Stella Artois and kissed like hands trying to hold each other.
Becoming InhumanI want to scream in colours.
My words would be painted in blood;
your blood to be exact.
Every vulgar, unfaithful ounce of it,
But you'd bleed for anyone.
You'd die for anyone
You knew this was sacred.
Bodies maimed and desecrated
But when I cut into the skin,
It was no suprise to find
Wires had replaced your veins.
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More