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When birds no longer flyOutside,
one thousand lights suddenly appeared with the passing of the sun.
I questioned their truth at the base of my tongue, and shouted words
deemed fit to explore the lengths of the ocean that Columbus couldn't bring himself to reach.
a footless bird continues its flight
without landing shan't he falter, growing stronger and wearier by the day.
Should he only look up to share my gaze and see for himself the belt of Orion so plainly sprawled in tandem with the belt of the Milky Way,
His wings would never carry.
FlowBeauty hath no other form
But that of the way of Grace.
Simple standing soundless,
Yet nature seeks its rapture
And revenge itself does torture our souls.
With beauty, I find you.
Created by solitude, our souls meet
By cosmic views of viscous light,
Torn down by dark fury
As nature deems us fit of Hell.
But stand not you here, with me.
My life sits by the cliff, and winds push
That landscape forward with motions of divine right,
As I freefall without time to make due my duty;
Bones break and breath halts
As a still image of my heart here with yours.
Sounds from fire bereave my loss.
Beauty hath escaped you, and
Nature has taken its way.
The cosmos speaks, and the world listens quietly.
Requiem of a Forgotten SoldierI bled tears of Grace, with wounded eyes of scars I did seek. Summer morning sun breaks dawn, and bread cracks with mealtime. We had our heads in the air like doves, peace-stung powers of sultry landscapes -- And like wings did we outstretch our arms, sounds of War ceasing on ground. Cold-stained air blew through our prides, and we saw ourselves as winged creatures, ashen and gray with passion for fury on our tongues. And so we march onward into new lands, like followers of forsaken unknown, driving back our senses, and shadowing our fear with glory. We will transcend, and flow as one like water through the sand. Behind us lies nothing, and as we march, we will live inside History, as names and ink. Hold your spirits, and find your steps- and let your blood flow like rock.
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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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