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To Bow, To BreakTo bow,
To sell a life,
Is what’s at stake
Piles of coins,
Two years saved
Gold or diamonds
Sold minimum wage
Games of leisure
Gone all wrong
Time’s age old song
I feel punished
For wanting a dream
This life is nightmares
Torn at its seams
Have I Been Wrong This Entire Time?Have I been mistaken? Was it wrong of me to follow my dreams and pursue my education to change my career? Was it wrong of me to put my faith in people, who's circumstances changed when they least expected them to; causing my backup plans to fall apart before my eyes? Was I wrong to return home when people needed me the most? Am I to assume that the only way I am to survive this stress is by ridding myself of my baggage and handing myself to those whom I felt I could trust most? Will I have to rid myself of the unconditional love of the animals which saved me from my emotional hell? Am I wrong to assume that it's not alright to feel stress, or fear at the prospect of having nothing to call my own? Am I to sell my things once again to gain funds that I need? Will I need to return to nursing even though my body cannot handle the physical stress?
Have I been wrong this entire time?
These are the things which have been rippling through my head for over a year. I left Lincoln a year and six
The Ivory TowerFor all the worlds of dream I am left to nothing but the scorched earth of a nightmare’s field. No grass or abundant flora graces this forsaken place. All is brown and dry. Death becomes this place where light shines yet the rain never falls. Here in the crisp wild grasses I lie, awaiting the moment my breath can be caught, as my racing heart welcomes the calls of panic. I know this place. I know this place far better than I dare allow my heart to admit. Beyond the ripples of burnt hues lies the Ivory Tower. Within the tower lies the dread which consumes me far beyond any nightmare of my many years. Within its keep lay the deepest pitch of fear which consumes all brave soul who dare tread. Within this land the pungent odor of decay has overgrown the memory of all flowers of the earth.
As each weary breath is counted, the field burns in quickened embers resolving all to dust. With legs shaking and desperate heart beats I am forced by labored step toward the tower. All resolve with
UntitledCries to the heavens
See not this beast of man
There is no redemption
But to stall judgment
To open the eyes of truth
We seek all knowledge
Of evil deeds
Of white washed creeds
Of men in their towers
Of wood and stone
Lou Townsend-The Abernathy FilesTo be completely frank with you I wasn’t sure if I should have taken the job. But when hard times come money doesn’t grow on trees and I’m sick to death of struggling to find my next meal! You may be wondering why I am writing this, well, let me put it this way, I am not your typical employee. I’m the type of guy that others tend to steer-clear of. I’m the sort of macho, tough guy which no-one really likes with the exception of every girl looking for a bad boy or my buddies. This experience though has more or less changed me. I’m not going to write about a sappy story about being saved by some hand of fate, shit like that don’t appeal to anyone. Nah, I’m writing about my employer. He is the reason I had more or less a change of heart, and lifestyle.
First off, let me introduce myself. My name is Louis Townsend. I’m a tough guy from the heart of New York. Most of my family gets their money from dirty dealings. Case and point my uncle
Fever DreamIn this fevered delirium nothing stands to reason. The sweat pouring from my brow, running into my eyes this is Pestilence in its truest form. My heaving breaths ache as each breath brings pain. These things which I have gaze upon ebb and flow as the rivers of time. Sleep comes soon but such heated dreams when the body’s temperament is in flux. I see the nightmares of my youth twisting contortions of horrible forms which threaten to swallow my sanity. My eyes blur with a wash of heat as I jostle from sick slumber. She is there, waiting for me, her eyes cool as the autumn breeze which achingly escaped me.
Her hand cool upon this stove’s brow, her words like songs to sooth the heaving fires within me. Are you an angel or a ghost to haunt my weakened body? O’ your tender touch does sooth the blazing flesh. Have you come to welcome me to the heavens? Or shall I remain among the confines of my heavy shell? Or worse still, must I plead for salvation for my wickedness, lest
SignatureMemories of yours
Objects in my room
You sold me gloom
And all the lights.
Are you a fool
Or a blind mind?
Believing my lies
Soon you will die.
I have the rights
Of all your stupid life
Any kind of will
You read the chain
Embracing your neck
You signed it anyway
I am so lucky
I own a soul
I’m lord of its world
My wealth grows.
There’s no escape
My hopeless pet
Be my slave
And try to obey.
first kissThere is no equality in love
Who willingly wears the tightest glove
All must give what few can take
Brave heart dares bend far past its break
No casual chance not to be bored
Give to get true risk reward
No one can win this dangerous game
We all play still the same
While at the door pause reminisce
Only to remember that first kiss
Take these drugs and feel the fun,
smile once and then you’re done.
Click our ad and try your luck,
elation-fit, and then you’re stuck.
For just another little dime
be happy, happy, all the time.
Melancholy’s for the saps,
put your boredom in our traps.
Once you need a stronger fix,
Give us money, get your kicks.
Hear our pitch, ignore the slime,
be happy, happy, all the time.
Real worlds do not exist,
lance that sadness like a cyst,
Make your own world, make it true,
Use our rules, made just for you.
Where sadness is the biggest crime,
be happy, happy all the time.
RustyMy heart is of rich, bright copper old
And in it contained love and happiness
It's not my smile or eyes that are bold
But the joyous soul shines its goodness
And then I met him, a mysterious guy
Of high status, an aristocrat if you will
He's charming, majestic like the sky
His grey eyes always gave my spine a chill
I don't know what lured me into him
Perhaps it was the danger that he emits
Little did I know he was nothing but grim
And he sucked out my life when we kiss
Heart and soul turned cold, a hard metal shell
I couldn't repair it no matter what I tried to do
The love was replaced with something from hell
Anger, sadness, misanthropy only grew and grew
My tears, like rain, touches my metal heart- now red
It's rusting away, until one day I must dispose of it
It is no longer beautiful, no longer pure, just dead
I'm broken and tainted with vileness of an evil spirit
Like a rusted robot, I need someone to fix me, a repair
Please clean me and help me rid of the painful memories
pencilsif life was a pencil,
my eraser would be gone.
all used up,
but the lead would live on.
it would make it's mistakes,
but couldn't take them back.
so the lead would live on,
until it cracked.
rustythey called me little iron-heart,
because i "only cared about myself."
if only they knew the memories,
that were rusting away on my shelves.
the feelings came along with the pain,
and back to the memories to start.
everything in my life led up,
to my gray, little, locked up broken-heart.
i didn't care about anyone,
because i was unable to care anymore.
i thought i wore my heart on my sleeve,
i thought my sadness was apparent, for sure.
but maybe they just couldn't see past me,
and see that my heart was a little dusty.
so that's me, "iron-heart", the big fat jerk.
well i'm sorry if my social skills are rusty.
Melody"Be proud of yourself",
the words rise and fall.
"Look at what you have accomplished!",
They hit against the wall.
"Be proud of who you are".
They sing to me and to all.
Hear the song,
and the reason to be alive.
To think it's warmth,
To think it's touch,
would leave me in cold,
and forever behind,
was far from my mind.
The melody brought me down,
taking my hands in it's chains,
never allowing me to reach and rise,
in the light of the sunrise.
Confessions of a Nameless PoetI don’t seek harmony in life,
I don’t seek harmony in nature,
I don’t seek harmony in strife.
I don’t pretend to understand
The law of universal order.
I am where I am meant to stand.
I’ve never tried to touch a flame
Or walk the angry ocean waters,
For nature is not mine to tame.
I don’t seek luck; it isn’t real.
I don’t seek dreams too great for dreaming,
I don’t reveal the things I feel,
The thoughts I think,
The hopes I kill...
What I seek, friend, is love eternal.
For love I’d give up even peace,
To rid myself of hate infernal
And feel release.
Chariots of ManWhat have you sought to gain?
The contorted grin, loves labors wane.
Twisting policy to profit as mouths devour scraps
To sow though never reap the labor of their backs.
The pen be mighty as the sword, control the words, control the hoards
Of men who once gained Fortune’s grace.
What have you sought to prove?
The crisp lined pockets, the herd on the move.
Keep chained to contract signed as once proud fall.
What built this land dying behind the white washed walls
These profits stronger than the past, learn from nothing, the die is cast
Against those who seek her fortunes.
What have you sought to plan?
So many broken dreams sold at road side stands
Turn the soils for harvests which pay for tears in change.
In a land of over-indulgence the old ways seen as strange
The modern age consumes us all, we seek the truth, yet hear the call
Of the chariots of man.
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More