inkstaineddove's avatar
dead girl writing
284 Watchers49.4K Page Views1.1K Deviations
n
new york state of mind
there's something soothing about being nobody. there's a calming aura emanating from the faceless crowds that aim to swallow you whole. the masses remind that you are nothing, it doesn't matter, just try to keep up. you can lose yourself in that. you can remember what it's like to be free. maybe they're rude with their ready-made insults and a middle finger on display. they don't suffer fools and their displeasure can fill summer night stadiums. but, when all around you is a southern breeze that doesn't like to make itself felt, that thinks every conversation is a game of chess or a play with multiple hidden meanings, you appreciate blu
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for persephone
i. Loneliness mixed with a lazy stillness hangs over the room. There is nowhere to go, no one to talk to but the cicadas humming all around. Its tiring, being stuck with only your thoughts, but there's a peace to it. An understanding that this is healing, letting the phoenix rise from the ashes the sun created to become stronger for the next year. You hope the newly forged armor will last. ii. There's smoke in the air, voices crying out, but I can't tell the cause. Pleasure or pain, it doesn't matter, both lead to pointless wars. It's in these dying breaths of summer, the renewed chills of the winter that I feel glory and infamy brus
T
The Path to Glory
Potsdam, 1756 Gilbert watched the man before him pace the room in rapture. The king's left hand was gripped tight around his cane, his eyes glued on a map of Central Europe and letters from spies detailing intelligence from various foreign courts. He cursed under his breath. "She's still fucking upset about Silesia." He grumbled. Gilbert sat up straight. A wicked grin cut across his face. "Don't you worry about a thing, Fritz! If we were able to kick her ass last time then we'll be able to do it again! You're the best military strategist they've seen! The Austrians must be clutching their pearls knowing they'll be facing off against Prussia
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like a young god
desperation clings to me. i am forever in search of a legacy that will never come to me unless, somehow, i set myself free. but what is 'free' when all i've known is the shackles of the past, connecting me to events and memories i no longer wish to be tethered to, no longer want to bring me down into this cruel reality? if there were a god, She would've made this world a little nicer, a little kinder for the outcasts, for those tossed aside like annoying crumbs clinging stubbornly to you. what is the point in turning oneself into marble? what's the point of creating yourself into myth when we don't even remember the names, much less the
h
hephaestus incarnate
thank the lord that i am not a god for, if i was, the world would end in fire. my rage would swallow you up whole, rendering you weak to my tyrannical feast. the land would be scorched beneath me. how beautiful the blaze would be. i'd make sure to leave you with nothing, sweet nothing to allow even the hope of survival. i'd want to see you dancing, helpless in the embers, praying to me for the ultimate salvation. i'd let the flames consume you. they'd make a snack out of my measly seconds, my washed up lover, my half-baked romance. i wouldn't cry. i'd warm myself in their glow, whisper you a eulogy of 'good riddance.' be thankful t
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The Difference Between Nations
Alfred sighed, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Do we really have to go to this? It sounds so lame, dude." He adjusted his bowtie and attempted to flatten down his cowlick. He rolled his eyes, frustrated at its persistence to defy gravity. "A ball sounds really old and stuffy and like something that should've been left in the eighteen hundreds." Arthur stood at the sink, putting on some cologne. "We don't have to, but I'd prefer we're not the only two nations that skipped. People are talking about us enough between Trump and Brexit. We don't need any more bad press." He straightened up and put on his diamond cuff links. "It's a good
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longing
I thought I saw you standing there, without care. Eyes like topaz, smile as bright as a star. I learnt that my dreams could not be that fair. And, in reality, you were quite far. I tried to ignore the disappointment, But it was ever present, choking me daily. I cried and cried but it didn't help to vent. I continued to float around miserably. Soon I'd be relieved of my misfortune For you will be returned to my arms And the suffering will be forgotten. Peace will be restored when I'm under your charms. To be by your side is where I find joy. You are my one and only, golden boy.
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my love, my salvation
i used to believe that my life would be relegated to one of constant loneliness, workaholic tendencies, and success that tastes pyrrhic. oh, how you've changed that. no longer do i doubt my worthiness of love and devotion. having a companion, someone i can find solace in, doesn't seem like a pipe dream. you've provided me with a hope that surpasses all others and a love that is all consuming. you are my light, my life, all my pretty cliches. to be without you is a fate i am sure to be worse than death. when i am without you, i constantly yearn for you and, when i'm with you, i try to drink up as much as i can, never quite getting enough
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Superpower
Washington, D.C., 2017 Alfred sat on a park bench in Lafayette Square. He looked around. His new boss had wanted him to get closer to Russia, normalize relations with the other nation. Try and make his job easier. Alfred didn't know how he felt about it. They'd been at war - and it was war because did the Cold War ever end or was it just a really long stalemate? - for decades now, getting closer and closer to a century. He sighed and tried to get a cigarette out while making sure to not spill his Starbucks all over his lap. It was hard work, but he eventually did it. "You still smoke? I would've thought you quit considering all those anti-s
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portrait of a man
the world of paint and canvases has always been one i've found to be foreign. lately, it seems it's the only medium i can create in. all my words have apparently migrated for an early winter, but i can still create. in the mornings, it's pink-tinted skies and rosy cheeks. it is a teal bed, messy yet still warm. the colors are blurry, blending together in a blissfully sleepy haze. the afternoons are stained with grey clouds, grey desks, grey anything. they yield to the monotony of their setting, each one indistinguishable from the last. the nighttime is for masterpieces. i can blend all the colors together and make the scenery abstract
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first.person
he has never been happy in the first person, has always kept his distance and hidden behind the ever-present you, has tucked himself into a crowd of we and us and they – his teacher once said that I was no good for an essay, I was neither formal nor convincing, I was too specific a skeleton to build a body of proof around. he thinks he knows his bones better than anyone else’s, but soon learns that it is better to cut a one-size-fits-all garment in arguments, and never quite trusts I again. I, he thinks, is the monster hidden in a closet of taboo. I, he thinks, is the rot in an apple made of wax. I comes to him at night gas
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my father a king, my lover a genius, i a fool
my heart belongs to men whose bodies have long been cold beneath the earth, who took their last breath many a century ago. i find myself, when i am alone late at night without another soul around, praying to a king i never knew. i wish for his guidance, his approval, his praise. when i whisper his name, it tastes like blood and iron and paternal. my kingly father is warm, stern, reflective, everything i had hoped my flesh and blood father could've been. i find long lost lovers in the pages of biographies. they reach out to me - calling my name, grabbing hold of my clothes to drag me down to them in between the pages. each one of them
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The Path to Glory
Potsdam, 1756 Gilbert watched the man before him pace the room in rapture. The king's left hand was gripped tight around his cane, his eyes glued on a map of Central Europe and letters from spies detailing intelligence from various foreign courts. He cursed under his breath. "She's still fucking upset about Silesia." He grumbled. Gilbert sat up straight. A wicked grin cut across his face. "Don't you worry about a thing, Fritz! If we were able to kick her ass last time then we'll be able to do it again! You're the best military strategist they've seen! The Austrians must be clutching their pearls knowing they'll be facing off against Prussia
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Dec 7
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comatose-comet's avatar
thanks for the fave :dalove::rose: and massive HAPPY BIRTHDAY for yesterday! Sagittarius Zodiac (F2U)  
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inkstaineddove's avatar
You're welcome and thank you so much!! :hug:
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LadyLincoln|Hobbyist Writer
Happya2 by Alimera

I hope you have a blessed and wonderful day, dearheart! :heart:
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inkstaineddove's avatar
Thank you so much! :hug:
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LadyLincoln|Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome, dearheart! :hug:
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Inkythepuppet's avatar
Happy Birthday!!!!Rainbow Cream Cake with candles 50x50 icon Refreshing Cake with candles 50x50 icon Macaron Cake with candles 50x50 icon 
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