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The beauty of snowA man with a frozen mustache stood upon his frozen hill. His breathing was a little accelerated, for he had only just climbed the hill. He took deep breaths and felt the frozen air filling his lungs. It was cold, but as clean as ever and that was what mattered.
He looked west, where the sun was setting behind a thick layer of clouds. A perfect white disc above the magnificent tree he had protected and helped grow so big. He remembered one day, it had not been much more than a sapling, when a horse of the neighbouring land had broken loose and almost trampled the little tree. He had calmed the horse at risk of himself. It was as if the tree had known, because every year since it was fully grown it gave tremendous amounts of walnuts, the best in town, so was told.
His breath twirled in small clouds around his aging head, every puff leaving more small freezing drops on his mustache. He swung to the right until he faced north, looking over the land. Everything was covered in a thick
The Overmind - ch. 0-3
I woke up. I woke up in what seemed to be a hospital.
My head hurt. Opening my eyes was painful, so I only opened them narrowly. How I knew I was in a hospital without opening my eyes is something I never really understood. Maybe it was the smell, maybe the sound. Probably neither, I just knew. But how?
When my eyes were opened wide enough to see something I saw that it could even be my room - only bigger and with two beds instead of one. Everywhere I went, I felt the same cold and distant atmosphere. Even my parents acted distant, like they just need to be there, like everything was happening for a reason about which they had nothing to say.
My hand was lying next to my head, right before my eyes. I concentrated on it Why didn't it glow? It should glow as I wanted it. I asked for the ability of light, right?
"Oh good, you're awake", the voice of my mother sounded even more distant, uncaring, heartless.
I closed my eyes and sank back into the darkness of a
Stop putting words in my mouthYou shove your fingers
down my throat,
and insert words
I never spoke,
in desperate hopes
to make me choke
my pearly gates
that feeds me
swallow the universedecay remembers you --
fever breath and ocean-eyed ghosts,
secrets that smoke with poison desire.
we wake only to drink, to devour
the naked voices of dismantled stars.
glass kisses turn into granite lips
and pillars of salt; a haunted embrace
melts into the cracks of the universe.
Love is not blindLove is not blind. It can see clearly.
It looks past the boundaries.
It defies the judging stares of society.
It is a force to be reckoned with.
eight.sometimes i feel
life's been played like a puppet
on a tangled
[yet still i'm lifeless without you .]
eidolon longingbreath salts open rooms
that entomb my idle hants.
in gloomy aberrance.
when the pulse was flaunted
remain the pursuit
of lanterns haunted.
questions flung like
furtive surface glances
ghost through iris eyelines
with an epiphany;
this search sparked
full body shudderings.
shuttering every window
and portal alike,
a light threatened by
the tending toward pulsatory spikes.
aorta, i spied you
spidering open your eyes
sliding the pursuit of dawn
through your dim sight.
with the sun, beat,
you forge forward for
warded window panes,
a rhythmic wonder repeat.
but eyelids live locked,
a careless cage holding
in this socket shock.
tock and tick that slick swindle options;
your image a lit blossom in a bottomless pit.
i’m reaching, but god, this
isn’t possible when
you’re this obstinate;
i am a fossil you’ve discarded
with hardly a sniff.
snuff me out, i’ll sputter devout and wish
my cardiac espousal had been more
seven.my nights for the last weeks have
consisted of liquid
poison, smoke in
and the chilled sound of
wake up with my
head half off the sidewalk,
surrounded by shards of
and a faint touch of
[ill pick myself back up on my own two
feet.. and stumble back;
she had come seeking a riotshe found religion in silence.
there wasn't a prophet's bone
in her body, not a holy cell of skin, but
somehow she was something
to believe in. she called herself a woman, not an angel nor
madonna, and the crucifix on her tongue could
not make her hold her words.
they called her witch and called her
goddess, made of something
such as marble, but she said she wasn't one
to be revered -
icons made of glass were
made to break, she claimed she was not
born to die;
(silence is found in the loudest of tongues, for speaking is an art
not all have learned-)
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More