Japan, Ahoy!I'm moving off to Japan!
I hope it will be tons of fun!
I just hope I don't stick out too much.
Newest
Killing Carmel ApplesHard, splintered toothpicks hold me in place like a wounded butterfly,Killing Carmel Apples
for those peering eyes, lighting the streets
outside these sugar cane windows. Hot, molten caramel drips from my eyes in curling waves; in this shop for sweet tooths, and unlikely treats.
The midnight sun catches on the ribbons of patronizing red
wrapped around my skin, lose tendrils digging like forgotten worms into my thick cherry insides.
My heart, turned into a hard pit of stone,
thumps and rolls when I see your face on the other side. I wait, my eyes becoming hard to open,
by ~ophelia-immortal3283
Dead Fly CoffeeMarlboro cigarettes wink at me from across the room this uneventful mornig. As you're still gone, and all I'm left with is the waving clock and stale, dead fly coffee. I grimace and pity the pour thing,Dead Fly Coffee
after all,
i'm sure dying in my coffee this rainy mornig wasn't a planned occasion.
I wonder who else beside this tiny fly,
have decided to die this morning. Waving off the man standing in the middle of the road waiting for me to hit him everyday.
Thoughts dappling to you, standing with your hands
full of assorted sprinkled donuts, imaging a g
by ~ophelia-immortal3283
Ghosts of the DiabeticI would imagine, that I would be the one wearing a coat of dirt,Ghosts of the Diabetic
standing outside her window.
Clustered with the others, waving around their laughing boom boxes, also dressed down
as if Death himself
had left that morning to get coffee, leaving on the soft notes of a violin tonguing with the radio.
And we, his children, crept out the windows of the churchyard,
now but a lonely white house.
The preachers face priceless as a painting.
While she, ignoring the walking dead outside, sat in a golden tub, with her perfect porcelain ski
by ~ophelia-immortal3283
Hell Bent.You wear the sunshine, like a twinkling gage. You carry the angels in your eyes, their swimming faces peeping over our neighbors fence. And if words spoke any louder than those wrapped around your wrists in dripping ink, God himself would hear them clearly, a whisper on a clouded wind. I watch you pray, without moving at all. no closed hands, eyes, or bowed head, no, but your prayers echo through out the halls, Mary herself opening her shy eyes to offer you condolence. Your hair would be the darkest, messy stakes of a martyred masterpiece, aHell Bent.
by ~ophelia-immortal3283
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: I am always moving, iam everywhere.
- deviantWEAR sizing preference: extra small to small
- Interests: Reading, Drawing, observing others, Psychology, day dreaming
- Favourite movie: Queen of the Damned,Little Miss Sunshine(It was hillarious!), Sleepy H., Mirriors
- Favourite band or musician: How could I ever chose!
- Favourite genre of music: All kinds, but mostly alternative, rock,and although off the wall.. classical.:)
- Favourite artist: Degas! I am in love with his lovely ballerinas!
- Favourite poet or writer: William Shakespeare, Anne Rice, Funke, Meyer, Frost,Emily D.,
- Favourite style of art: Photography, writting, drawing
- Operating System: My brain.
- Skin of choice: I quite enjoy mine, but if you're offering...
- Favourite gaming platform: PSP
- Favourite cartoon character: Sponge Bob! I don't care how old i am, I love that little sponge.
- Personal Quote: " Sometimes you have to look past yourself ."
- Tools of the Trade: My ever conflicting imagination
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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I write it better than you ever felt it.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
about your case of writters block. terrible stuff.
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I write it better than you ever felt it.
Sorry, i am HORRIABLE at
geting back on time.
But i hope my " ur welcome" counts just as much.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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