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8/25/13Sometimes I like to close my eyes
And imagine that he's tracing his fingers
Up my neck and through my hair
And that I'm okay with it.
Because that's the thing about losing yourself:
That any form of contact is devastating;
Where you actually start to believe
That this empty shell of a body
But that's what's devastating:
When you find out
The Altar Beneath the Sun
It was getting worse, this madness that slithered everywhere Elm could get his claws on, and it would be too late if action wasn't taken soon. Birch was desperate, after all wasn't he dirtied enough by his elder brother’s actions? He had to save his siblings at least, to protect them from themselves. But the preparations were necessary to help defeat this foe, and Birch knew what he had to do.
He knelt before a stone altar, the center of his territory in the Grove, shaded by the vast canopies of the dozens of trees that surrounded it. No one ever came there but him. In fact, most of his siblings seemed to forget his existence at times, but that was fine with him, he knew his purpose was to be the messenger, not the message; the hilt, not the blade. But what was the message? What was the blade?
Acacia, the savior.
Acacia, the light in the dark.
Acacia, who was nowhere to be seen.
Birch had never really understood Acacia’s position, she was and yet wasn't, she existed and yet
NightshadeCypress didn't really understand why she came there, this cave that sat like a void in the Grove, an abomination to her father’s will, the mouth of death, gaping with sweet promises of solitude, but she resisted such thoughts, she had other plans. This, after all, was the result of Elm’s fight against his imprisonment, a deep crater, one of quite a few, created by his rage and hatred of Malus. Yet that was so long ago now, as Cypress could see from the bits of vegetation growing, as if trying to mask the scar of the battle; nature sometimes has a way of covering up mistakes.
She peered inside, squinting her eyes and leaning closer, anticipating any danger that might come her way, not that danger had any meaning to her (being immortal and whatnot). There was no danger, she knew, as a certain figure approached from the dark, cloaked in robes that seemed to reject the light itself, bearing a subservient aura that shook and struggled to even exist in a consistent form. There wa
You Were...You were a man
Whom I never knew, myself.
You were a soldier,
Serving his country in the smoke of war.
You were a drunk,
Cowering behind a putrid bottle.
You were a pig,
Getting his fill of all life’s carnal pleasures.
You were a beater
Whose fists knew no restraint.
You were a monster
To both your wife and children.
You were a father
Only by blood to those children.
You were a man,
Who lived his life and died.
You were my grandfather,
Whom I never knew, myself.
Elm and Cypress
Cypress thought it strange.
Strange for a visitor such as him to enter the Grove. After all, most guests to the home of the Children of Malus came unwillingly and were poor, sniveling, and trembling beings, worthless of even a second thought from the bitter Child. Yet this man before her had an air of confidence, or perhaps arrogance, and a smug look of self-entitlement, as if someone, somewhere, owed him something. That’s when he said to her: “Cypress, my dear, it’s been so long.”
She squinted her eyes at him, suspicious, “I don’t know you, mortal.”
And he laughed--how he laughed!--his mouth opened into a wide smile that showcased a set of jagged and horrid teeth, “Now, my dear, sweet, fragile Cypress, that is where you are wrong. As I am no mere mortal, and you do certainly know me.”
Then Cypress noticed the deep scratches that covered his body like sharp red flicks of a fountain pen on pale parchment, and she knew immediately tha
Birth of WisteriaAlone in the perennial abyss under the surface of the Grove, the primordial son whispered sweet nothings to the soil around him, clawing for release from his prison. He had been there since Malus, his father, had determined that he was too tainted to exist among the tranquility of the Grove, but tranquility is one of many things that can be easily tainted by his power. Digging his claws further in the soil, watching closely as the dirt curved under his fingers and cradled in his palm, a little clump let loose a tiny cry, and for the first time in his entire existence, he had hope. For if his father could make life from nothing, so could he.
Yet the life he held in his hands now, his little dirt child, was weak, but that could always be fixed.
The Welsh BloodI have the Welsh blood in me,
But it’s dead, dead and gone,
Flowing beneath my flesh
Like a bloated corpse
Faced down in a river.
I have the Welsh blood in me
But it’s freezing up inside,
Cracking great red fissures
In the cavities of my veins,
Flowing the great Red Dragon.
No more the Welsh blood in me,
With their proud intrepid ways,
Overthrown by the Brits
Allied by the Germans and French
On a genetic battlefield.
No more the lily-colored skies,
The rush-leaves of the mountain,
Nor that mountain’s misty peak.
Only the face of the conquerors
And the Hammer of the Scots.
The Dragon’s blood within
Is not in much anymore,
For it’s been bled and bled again,
By the pecking of the Eagle’s beak
And the Lion’s greedy claws.
I have the Welsh blood in me,
But it’s dead, dead and gone.
Yet there is no time for weeping,
For the tears aren’t mine to shed.
I, the diluted, bastard granddaughter
Of the Norse gods, the scholars,
And the Red
Drill Tooth"Pass along this message, love."
Said the Bird atop the Tree.
To which 'Drill Tooth' did reply,
"I shall and you shall see."
So down the trunk 'Drill Tooth' ran,
A scroll rolled up in his tail,
Down to where the Serpent lived
O'er dead souls that scream and wail.
Soon 'Drill Tooth' arrived in Hel,
Where the Serpent called his name,
"Ratatöskr, do come near'r,
And come play a little game."
So 'Drill Tooth' came upon call,
Staring back upon the Snake,
"I cannot, Nidhöggr, for
I've a message you must take."
"Very well, my furry friend,"
Said the Serpent with a purr,
"But you must com closer still!
Bring it here, Ratatöskr!"
And so was done as was told,
And the Serpent took it in,
And swallowed whole the message
And the messenger within!
As tales of immortals go,
The messenger's tale went on,
And he burrowed himself out
With his drill teeth and was gone.
Thus the message was received,
And the Serpent lived as well.
So ends this tale of 'Drill Tooth',
The Bird, and the Snake in Hel.
To J-Speak to me one word alone,
Whether it be of Hate or Love.
I'll hold it close, pressed to my heart,
And cherish each syllable.
I'll be your ugly Sappho
And write these words, for you, unread.
Cage this nightingale in your heart,
For I'll never fly away.
If one day you set me free,
And so command that I depart,
I'll listen to the word you say
And carry your memory.
twitterlight oblivioni remember we had a picnic once,
on a melting summer day.
the roses spilled their fragrance,
the petals spiralling away.
we spent the morning in the sunlight,
and the evening under the moon.
the fireflies flew their drunken flight
while the lovebirds began to croon.
a glassful of spicy chai,
a pocketful of sky,
that day i picked a bouquet of happinesses,
just for you and I.
EightThe whistling wind blows with a sweet aroma,
Causing flower and blade of grass to bow.
The clouds hid the sun for a moment,
But the glory of the day would not allow.
As the birds rang out in harmony,
Further along, in a piney forest,
Waved prickly needles and spiny cones
Swaying with the sound of the chorus.
And there, in a meadow, on soft earth I sat
Looking across the way at his teasing eyes.
He smiled at me, then turned away
As my heart screamed out with anxious cries.
It rises from down within me-
My love for him, I can't deny;
I cannot hide what's true inside
No matter how hard I truly try.
He takes up my every thought-
I'm surely falling in love-
While being with this boy
Under deep blue skies above.
Forgive Me, My LoveForgive me, my love, for I had loved you too much
I always did know you could not give nothing back
I wish I had kept all the feelings in my heart,
And just accepted there is a lot that I lack.
Forgive me, my love, I hope you hold me no grudge;
I never did wish your affections be denied;
My longing for you must have exhausted your soul
Thus I never got the attention I desired.
Forgive me, my love, it was my heart that was weak;
It often did fall for ones who could not catch it;
It would be ready to rise and climb up again,
Only when it had found someone else to break it.
Forgive me, my love, it was my mind that was meek;
It seldom did speak but when it did it saved me;
It was mute when I felt like I did not need it,
Hence making me helpless as I could ever be.
Forgive me, my love, we both know it was my fault;
I only did stop loving when it tore all our seams;
I had always been told that it would hurt us both,
And that you would not spare me any of your dreams.
Forgive me, my love, if
Cinnamon Skin The scent of cinnamon strong,
tickling my nostrils,
playful and dangerous.
and a water,
a sanctuary to a certain few.
The perfume that heats my cheeks,
and brightens my days.
Glorious in its tan,
and sweet in its flavor.
Your cinnamon skin,
With each kiss,
your flavor sticks on my tongue,
and the sun shines brighter.
There might be usYou might take take a walk with him by the river.
Yeah, he might just take you for a walk.
And you might admire blooming cherry slivers.
And he might take your hand and even sweet talk.
You might go to movies with him, once in a while.
Yeah, he might just take you to movies sometimes.
He might make you laugh, you might make him smile.
And he might even kiss you when the hall dimes.
You might sit and talk to him for hours.
Yeah, he might just listen to you talk.
You might bake him cookies, he might buy you flowers.
You might even feel safe when he kisses you goodnight.
You might share a week with him; or a month, or two.
Yeah, he might just let you stay around.
You might even think you can make him love you.
He might even let you believe you are right.
To give him your whole world, you might even dare.
Yeah, he might just say 'I love you' a couple of times.
For some time, he might even pretend he cares.
For some time, you might even believe he does.
Love/hate: ZaGrYou may be from an another planet
Where you can dream about who you want to be
Trying to be with me suddenly
But that doesn't work with me
But here is dangerous and you have to chose carefully
About who you are and who you want to be
Even knowing if somebody's that one
Who is brave enough
That can handle a person like me
You may be annoying and loud
But I learned your really sweet to me
We have a lot in common in many ways
But that doesn't mean anything to me
You tried to steal my love in many ways
Thinking it work
But you should be careful
You shouldn't mess around with my demon that lurks
What you didn't know is that
I like you the same way
Taking that one day
To kiss you and love you forever
Like the king and queen overruling the world with powers of several
Endless CyclePush back the tears.
Swallow the pain.
Hold it all in,
Until driven insane.
Stop your heart,
By letting love in.
Abayo, yamamusumeGrant me, heavenly Euterpe,
Light words as set I to verse
Days in miracle immers’d,
Bidding adieu my blue magpie:
Like Delphic daffodil just ripe,
Didst thou spring in wintry clime;
O, with coy bloom but fairness bright,
Thaw’d fruitless times thy shine.
Thus, cometh a poet’s summer:
Endow’d Pygmalion skill,
T’ward thy name’s youth I endeavour’d
With forever pregnant quill.
Yet, like th’harvest’s sickl’d lantern
Rais’d ‘bove tempting fall’s embrace:
From far shade a fickle return,
Whilst hid elsewhere thy true face.
Now, as fleeing Proserpine,
Fixt Fates dictate thee to fly;
Aye, good-bye; for free thee do I
Free as cam’st thou to me, Kaylee.
Icarus LoveYou are my Apollo, shining so bright,
And I, ambitious Icarus in flight,
Wings of cold wax and smooth, bending feather
Carrying my form above the Aether.
For you are my ambition, burning my flesh,
Tearing my mind in a love so afresh
As I soar above the deep, hallowed sea,
Approaching fast your clinquant brilliancy.
Yet as I draw nearer and nearer still
The wax of my wings fall, against my will,
Twisting and turning, invisible hands
Pulling me back to the drowning black sands.
Thus is when the fire comes, rending my back,
Burning light, crackling of feathers singed black.
No hope for me, yet I still know my love
For you, shining sun in the sea above,
As I fall, splashing into dark ocean,
Forever to gaze, death in slow motion,
I know that seeing is all that I need,
To simply see you, beyond the seaweed
And these walls of water and atmosphere.
For when I see you, I've nothing to fear,
Not even death, and fire, and earthly frights
Can tear my love asunder. The nights
Come fast, but I shan'
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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