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I do not understandI do not understand.
When we were young and fill of trust, we thought every promise must be kept. Neglecting of course, the simple ones, like promises to buy sweets or promises to marry when we were running through playgrounds laughing. They were just forgotten about- Not in a bad way, but merely drifted off through the passage of time, an elderly couple living their end days.
We remember them not as broken nor forgotten, not with hurt feelings but with wistful smiles, or chuckles at how childish we were.
They did not harm when they passed the due dates and flittered by- No more then a sting of sorrow or a pang of regret for the friends who primary school friends who drifted away, never to be heard of again except from your friend's friend who knows them on Facebook, so many years later. They are sweet losses, broken promises which you are at peace at, because when you were young the term 'broken' did not how it's emotional connotations, in such negative ways, that it does when you
BridgeThe sky was grey. It clung to the atmosphere above her head, a curled and twisted moss that only the paid or the fanatical would clean. The wind was little better, silently screeching as it buffed against her black jacketed back, gripping and dragging her brown hair outwards to frame a paled face. She cared for neither, distant ice eyes staring at the landscape in front of her, the chopping waves of the sea hiding a peaceful gut. She is the same but upside down, the only sign of the malicious storm the white knuckles that grip her journal to her heart. They both have been violated, her organ and book, to the point where she trusts neither and either. They are just pawns in the games she plays with her and herself.
Her balance is perfect, her ballerina feet keeping her rooted to the railing. Still the girl wears the white dress beneath the black jacket, the beauty tainted only by the wearer herself- For she wore her heart on her sleeves, and now that they have burst the draping arms are
Leto's Inversedclosed eyes but broken hearted
mine, a thousands tons of lead
a fabricated illness was their dismissal
but she was the only one dismissed
their hate and pity pounds upon me.
as broad as it is long
but their minds are just too human
that of marble hearted women
and those of pig headed men.
jealously like a Barbary pigeon
for that i am kept at bay
peeking through aloof white fences
my fingers taint them grey.
my presense poisons their rose-smattered views
but not of their wrath i am made afraid.
i am god's unwanted
but this isn't my valedictory speech.
for me the church bells didn't play
for her god's ethereal home she will stay.
this was her love-fueled reaction
to my actions that only gossipmongers would say.
i am Leto's inversed, a once brightened image to fade
closed eyes but broken hearted
mine, a thousands tons of lead
suicide was my dismissal
but she was not to be dismissed.
SheShe makes Raro drinks in her mouth with me.
It was my idea really, though truth be told I did not expect her to trust me. We probably should have stopped after inhaling those tiny white specks of Raro crystals by accident and began to cough. But we did not, and adding water we sloshed the combination in our mouths and swallowed.
The result was less than satisfactory, but she laughed for so long that I'm glad I told her about it. I can not help but be thankful that she is used to my oddness.
She comes to me to get her away.
Into my dingy car we clamber, and on my restricted license I drive us away from the horrid music and chaos that is our highschool prom. I take her to my thinking place, and for the next few hours we lay in the dewed grass and stare at the stars, the water seeping into our beautiful dresses like nebulas beneath us. The acolyte I am holds the truth, which whispered to the sky sound sweeter than kept in my head, and as she leans against my echoed form I know she is list
I will tell and have toldI have told myself I am not callous
[for I am not callous]
And I have told myself I am not selfish
[for I am not selfish]
But in a creeping, sobbing, incoherent moment
[I am not callous]
I, for once, thought on my own
[I am not selfish]
And cut you down to shape
[I am human, and above I am all.]
Taste of Freedom - Chpt. 11Title: Taste of Freedom (Chpt. 11)
Game: Dragon Age 2
Author: Blissy-Kills, aka Sessils
Characters/pairing: Anders, Varric, Leandra, Fenris, Orana, Bodhan, Sandal and Cinnamon Hawke
Author's note: All characters belong to Bioware, except Cinnamon Hawke. Yeah, I'm not going to apologise for this wait this time, because it's become clich'e. All I will say is: Wow. I am sorry Cinnamon- It'll get worse before it gets better.
It was her little secret, the mirror. Not its existance, but her reluctance to stare into it. The inability to face herself. The scars that stained her features brought back memories, painful ones, and the tired smiling eyes seemed to better haunt than heal. And all the while, the absent colours would run though her mind, a desperate attempt to keep them alive. The red of her family's crest, the blue of her mother's eyes. Cinnamon could see the shades, the transition from one hue to another lighter or darker one
Taste of freedom - Chpt. 10.5Title: Taste of Freedom (Chpt. 10.5)
Game: Dragon Age 2
Author: Blissy-Kills, aka Sessils
Characters/pairing: Anders, Varric, Fenris, the three wise spirits (together again) and Cinnamon Hawke
Author's note: All characters belong to Bioware, except Cinnamon Hawke and my adaptations of the spirits. And once again Freddick, the unsuspecting cheesewheel. He is always watching. Enjoy, and sorry for the wait. Again. Again. Again. c:
The absence of air tickling her skin was worse than its presence, and the feeling pushed Cinnamon into awareness. Instantly she wished she was back in her dreams, where it was blue sky of Kirkwall, not the emotionless and empty expanse of the Fade, that greeted her eyes. Because the sight of reality proved to the mage that she was wrong.
The sight shifted as Cinnamon sat up, blue eyes sweeping to prove she was back at the starti
The Thief 'Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.'
~ Dalai Lama
There was a door.
It was a very nice door. Someone, God knows who, had taken their sweet, precious time to carve out intricate designs of gears, swirls and abstract lines before defining said indents with gold paint. The wood itself was so old, so cherished and polished that the rich mahogany colour stood out like a painting. It was so beautiful one could have licked it and tasted the heritage, though door licking was not encouraged in modern day society. Of course it was not the front door- such a door did not desire to be locked up like a nun's innocence just so the esteemed bank that lay behind its gateway was protected. No, it was more or less the second door, as the first door was a metal, lockable excuse for an entrance and about as attractive as a moldy, slimy slab of granite. In a dress.
Still, it was a bloody impressive second door.
And it may well have continu
Preview - Work in progress, name needed' It's me against myself this time
Me against the world I hide
Can I overcome and find a way
To be alive.'
There was a door.
It was a very nice door. Someone, God knows whom, had taken their sweet, precious time to carve out intricate designs of gears, swirls and abstract lines before defining said indents with gold paint. The wood itself was so old, so cherished and polished that the rich mahogany colour stood out like a painting. It was so beautiful one could have licked it and tasted the heritage, though door licking was not encouraged in modern day society. Of course it was not the front door, as such a door did not desire to be locked up like a nun's innocence just so that the esteemed bank that lay behind its gateway was protected. No, it was more or less the second door, as the first door was a metal, lockable excuse for an entrance and the first-and-a-half door was a sophisticated metal detector operated by one of the many service androids.
Still, it was a blo
MaskShe wears a mask like it’s nothing.
Sometimes I forget it was made by demons.
I forget there’s a person living behind it.
Raspy Hill"I don't quite feel like myself."
I haven't for a while now.
My mind seems displaced,
Like it's wandered too far away.
"I've been having strange dreams lately."
Images of strange creatures dance in my sleep.
I don't know them but I know they are malicious.
What do they want?
"But now you're here and I'll make you feel right at home."
My saviour, my protector.
You'll guard me from this evil.
"Welcome to Raspy Hill."
This is my hell.
And you'll join me.
I'll make sure of it.
"Enjoy your stay."
Roses and barbed wireThe beauty of the roses
Right there for me to see
So colorful and vibrant
A sight to behold
But I can't get any closer
A fence surrounds them
Keeping them safe
Keeping me away
Away from their colors
Away from their scent
Trapped in this grey world of mine
Behind the barbed wire fence
Bibliophilia --C.To all the books I haven't read:
I have become your bookshelf
of dusted titles and busted spines
with arms that are full of fantasy
and romance and a head full
of memoirs I haven't written,
their lexicon curling my tongue
around five dollar word-plays
just behind the sheaf of my teeth.
With definitions straight to the point
and description airy and lofted
a dictionary defenestrates pages
that whirl into the night, petal
papers gliding like elegant
prose in a blank journal.
There is no table of contents
to map your way; follow the veins
ink leaves in the margins of my palms
because the books I've read tell me
if they give you ruled paper,
write the other way;
you are someone else's collage,
all the worn sad evidence of humanity,
stirred and sorted by a poet
because good books,
like bad people,
don't give up all their secrets at once.
Where Lover's Dream DarklyFor it is not a fable; — that which bleeds..
And her soul may whisper obsidian,
— But I am the sea of Darkness she craves
O’ long I hath bathed in these ravenous winds,
Watching shadows weep across river’s dreary
Upon nightscapes that plunder our souls —
A bouquet of crimson shall enchant thy lips;
Where slowly we fade into requiem
Drink me naked in the abyss of hungry wolves
Among demons and insanity, I thrust and fall
Ravaged, eons of lust spill from mine eyes,
And behold the Forests sing of murder!
In a sombre kiss, we shall undress the skies
Time will yield to the treasures of melancholy
I covet thee, unto this blood-filled Moon
O’ thou art beautiful decay upon my skin,
A ghostly visage dripping wanton & darkly ..
We are Lover’s haunting deaths lullaby;
Assassins brooding in a bewailing fairy-tale
She is mystic poison; & elixir immortale
Seek you me, in the mystique of necromancy
For I am the dream of Serpents fea
Sweet darknessDarkness, my dear
Darkness, my element
With your cold embrace
And keep me hidden
Hiden from the world
Hidden from my past
You are my ally
You are my friend
The only one I can trust
Vanquish the light
And cast your shadow
All over this world
AverilRain drips slowly down the side of her face;
Her eyes don't see no clouds today.
Soft feet whisper on supposed green;
It's the mind, swirling in its sleep,
And softly, gently forgetting.
She has walked this path before,
but now, in dreams it is alive.
Afraid the love has been squandered
In the pursuit of her long years
Now she sits, alone, breathless and cold.
Who wants to live forever?
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More