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SuspensionWhat's here, a bridge
suspended from the sky,
by threads of angels past, whose sonorous glows are fading with night.
With every rust filled ring that rains from the bowels of the beast,
the gates of heaven high
it strains its tender tendrils but is bound by chain to Terra,
unable to rise, the suck of the sea, pulling down to the depths.
Weak willed, unfair,
he falls into the spray,
unlike his brothers on high wings, the ropes that tie him to the sky
spark and splinter to fiery below, under the ocean that presses above.
And now, below,
cold flames that eat away
at the mellowed flesh
of a sunken monument
Watery WordsWords are like water, flowing their way from the highest point to the bottom of the fairy tale that wallows in the staring game we call society. Light as air, yet heavy as lead, liquid vocalized syllables can lift or level, rift or settle, drift the bevelled edge of destruction that erodes the cornerstone of corners foreign roads we travel in the stormy show that grovels in the gravel to torment the twinkling tragedies, unless we disperse in the fumes of humid vapour, waters words in wordy waters wading wilfully to winded whispers of wicked wicker baskets in taking of direction towards letters that spill from the mountain to the canyon of sharp jagged paper far below, unless blown away by the wayward winds of standardized insanity, directed blows, humanity in crumbling shackles bequeath the future under the wings of white waters from sky clouds, inception on high ground, corrections abide round the table of taking the tapeworms tapered end to talking the trash into the acrid lesser mor
Deviant - deviantI am a Deviant.
I write words in hopes to enlighten the herds of public servitude and destitute insensible masses of emphatic tragic monotony. Ever searching for inspiration, despairing the implications of a lack of motivation or those ever forbidden words... "writer's block". To free a mind of leaden anchors I spill my new found talent to rid of canker and the blanker the page, the darker my day until hatred is splaying my mind in the maze of this madness, in forever and nothing is sadness inner diminished visions of savage insatiable tactics that end in blackness, unconscious and out of control, tri-polar and without a true soul, in focus but the final recoil from draining a brain of its stains and pains is craning my cranium, dissecting my neurons like the heart of an innocent amphibian who wanted nothing but to hop another hop, but drops just like another rock, lifeless and motionless like a crystalline lake at sunrise, directing the pure onto a path of corrupted essences and shar
I Am Not Worthy.How many times have I tried to reinvent this composition,
but scrapped it because of all the pressure and competition?
my focus is shattered into talented fragments of adolescent angst in transitional agony,
feeling the gravity of expectations on every single syllable,
and the hissing,
coming from everywhere and anywhere, unintelligible, surely,
constantly telling me that I am not worthy,
the desolate land around me crumbles with every consecutive quake,
and with every flake, it accelerates, degenerating any remaining motivation to write, when the stage is cluttered with insincerity in every word that’s falsely spoken, darkened hearts with no beat of a drum to drive the warrior spirit in derivative syllables, infected materials in our neurons cause us all to be inferior, and I’m sick of it all, like the skin of a snake, I wish to shed the false praise and pretense, the darkened weakness that tells this instant and every time I open my eyes : I am
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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