will anyone wish to share my heart
before the icy death of winter?
it is already late to wonder
it is autumn
and have i just felt
the first snowflakes
fall upon my brow?
The CityThe City
Elektra and time-twister, hear my distant cry
out of past beneath Apocalypse waste sand of a land which almost died
of spirit-traps and ancient vampires
transmogrifying life to bitterness.
Of a world where precious love
is sold for plastic and piss.
The streets flow with human flesh, churning in black ichor oil
drowning in sludge, choking on burning rags
Some of our brightest work in the streets
- paladins covered in filth, sifting through garbage
for lost love lights
- healers and caretakers of refugees cast as defects from
towering factory mechanical spires
The City burns a crown of a billion lights, each a brilliant star
of artificial bright
All we have here is this little lamp --
its cold outside beyond its pale glow
The City has heat without seeming end, boiling energy from the meat that
Thousands die in the City every night
- hearts gorged on young blood, spirits burnt with Hellfire,
drunk with the glory of impossible suicide
In vain they offer themselves a
untitled :-faith and love?-:searching is pointless
fate shall bequeth you true love
just open your eyes
cycleFox eyes shine
A glimpse into the dark
Pools reflect sparks unseen
of closeness and melding
Through the veil of time
Are you calling for me?
Wind rattles the leaves,
Pulls the dark cloak about the sky,
Stars and moon dissolve into black velvet.
Wet dew blankets the forest,
joining life with mist's night chill.
Lightning cracks the atmosphere
Awoken drenched in icy sweat
and saguine warmth.
A mirror shines amidst nothingness --
a window to the world outside,
or self-reflecting infinite oblivion?
Ensconced in darkness,
a pale flame smeared with ink.
Glass shattering on the floor,
falling deep in water,
in harsh white light.
Blazing corona burning high
cleansing all in fire.
Sparks escape into vacuum,
damping to ash as they're blown,
carried from the tempest
on currents like cold metal.
Floating in auroral ether
amongst prismatic thought
painted with brushes
immersed in every perfect moment.
half remembered...only nostalgi
House Vey~House Vey~
I was working as a tax agent for the British government in the Year of
Our Lord 1999. It was then that my supervisor approached
me regarding the matter of House Vey.
``It has come to my attention,'' he said, ``that there is a real estate that
has been evading tax law for centuries. It isn't on land-survey maps and
has only come to my attention due to its recent acquisition of
materials from certain sources.''
He handed me a file that described several transactions in metals
and rare minerals by a House of Vey, location given.
``I want you to go down there,'' he continued, ``And make the books
So I did what he told me. Not that it was easy. There was no road that
led to the House of Vey (a house left off of the British Royals' list).
Instead, I took my auto as far as dirt roads allowed. Then, equipped
with a hand-written map superimposed on the GPS grid, I wandered
through the British countryside in search of t
Bill cipher x reader dancing with a demonBill cipher x reader : Dancing with a demon
Ok, soooo yeah... Um this is only my second bill x reader so if there's a problem or anything please let me know, ok? Thanks, hope the stories alright!
1: (h/c) =hair color
2G/B)=gender (this one is female, sorry)
You sighed, watching Mabel, Pacifica ,Grenada, and candy sort through the many dresses in the store. A town dance was coming up, and because a certain female (*cough cough* a old mean friend of Pacifica's) just had to say something about you not having a date, or wearing anything pretty, your girl-friends got riled up and decided to prove her wrong. "(Y/n)!! Try these!" Mabel tossed a couple of dresses at you, while Pacifica promptly shoved you in the dressing room. Sighing, you began your decent into the pile of dresses. Each one was either too tight for your taste or too showy. You'd finally gone through all of the
Dear HeartbrokenDear Heartbroken,
Sometimes I wonder, if you still spend late nights
Staying up thinking of me, making up rhymes
Or other pathetic things to help pass the time
I wonder if you still think we weren't meant to part
Telling everyone you meet how I broke your heart
When you were nothing but deluded from the start
Sometimes I wonder, if you still like to play victim
Connecting to sad songs, cursing my existence
Thinking love could be won through insistence
But maybe I just wonder, why this point of view
Is never given the credit it's due
When so many people suffer to get through
But forgive me for whining, you do more than enough
I'm just writing to say, that sometimes it's rough
To be honest, blunt, and have to get tough
I'm sure that you wonder, why I was always so tense
But being around you was all a fake pretense
And you're just not for me, in a
Zoro X Reader Strange Behavior
Zoro and yourself walked down the crowded street of a nameless island, Zoro needed to get his swords sharpened, while you were going to shop for more clothes, your previous wardrobe tended to become shreds while you fought with enemies. It was rather annoying and expensive to replace your clothes once ever three months.
You and Zoro had been dating for about two and a half years, you had been with him through all his training, his battles, thriller bark, and you were even there when the crew separated. When the crew met back in Sabody Archipelago, you were over joyed to see that Zoro had made it through the two years.
However...ever since two weeks ago, Zoro had been acting strange. Naturally, you knew that Zoro wasn't the social type. He mostly kept to himself, but with you he was talkative. You couldn't help but wonder what was going through Zoro's head right now. The silence between you two was starting to become unbearable. You thought about suggesting a visit to the docs to watch
Love Letters On the TrainDear Stranger,
I'm leaving this post-it tucked in the side of the train-seat. If you're reading this, you've seen it. I've seen you sit here every few Monday mornings, sometimes tapping a bent, unlit cigarette against your thigh, sipping from your tea (who brings a tea cup onto a train anyway?); sometimes staring at the rain outside, or reading your well-worn, beaten copy of Jane Eyre (I hate that you fold the corners down - it's bibliophilic abuse. I wish the book would papercut you to defend itself a little, but I digress).
You seemed so sad this Monday morning past. Please smile again. I love it when your eyes catch the light of something I'm unaware of, something silently and intimately your own; a secret from the world that makes everything all the more meaningful to you.
- The Passenger
I'm not in the habit of reading post-its from strangers. I found a love-letter hidden in a newspaper once, that the author forgot or was too afraid to send. It made me sad to think
It hurtIt hurt when you left me.
Hurt when you walked away.
It hurt when you turned your back.
and hurt when you didn't stay.
It hurt when I saw you with her.
Hurts when you kiss.
It hurts when you're gone.
hurts that You I still miss.
It hurt when you looked at me.
Hurts when you smile.
It hurt when you wave.
Hurts that I'm gonna be alone for a while.
It hurt when you looked my way.
Hurts to still see.
It hurt when you came over.
It hurt when you said your sorry to me.
Hurt never goes away.
The Tide's ComingThe bugs whisper of your coming with their legs,
As the moon hides
Turning my edge of the world black
I cannot see, but through the pinholes of stars.
The trees rustle,
Shivering as you pass
Your heat removed.
I hear nothing
But nature rebelling against you.
But then all goes silent
The sea stalls,
The crickets feel your vibrations
Stopping them dead.
The trees hover in stasis,
Wishing they could uproot
You cant touch.
I welcome your chill
My bones make music enough
To fill the air,
A sea roar, its own.
I am as aware of your presence
As the sea the moon
It cannot move
Without the other.
Can We Both Be Ugly?She's a diamond, while I am coal.
I am the coal, black and boring.
Set me on fire while I am alive.
Watch me burn,
Watch me die.
She is the diamond, shiny and attention-grabbing.
Lay your greedy hands on the whore.
She's there for the looks and money,
No real work,
She receives the perks.
We both wanted him,
But I bit my tongue.
What a fool I would be to ask for his heart.
He sees me as a footrest,
Only here for support and only when he needs it,
The demand for me is limited.
He lusts for her seductive nature,
Her glare blinding his eyes,
She's tearing him apart with her sharp edges,
It kills me to witness.
"I can't hurt you.
"But she is my support,
"She is but a coal,
weak and pitiful.
You want that?
The spineless coward?
She's thirsty for your heartbreak,
but my fingers are gentle,
let me hold you."
His situation is himself.
I love him more than I could scream,
But I maintain my silence,
I suffer in the dark.
I see his sorrow and
I was Eros once.I stuffed my throat,
and pockets full of roses.
I tied myself up with heartstrings.
I set myself on fire.
not what you wantedi wanted to tell you about
yesterday. and how i saw
a shooting star and a face
on the moon that reminds
me of my grandfather.
i wanted to tell you how
i fell on the grass at
sunset and it was poetically
beautiful. but you'd
only tell me that i was
beautiful and then let the wind
blow away what my eyes see.
i wish you loved looking
up at the fragments of
rocks scattered across
the sky. or loved to watch the
clouds go past for twelve hours
straight, but you'd get
bored after two.
i wish i had asked you
what your favourite number
is and what colour your
toothbrush was. my number
is 52. and now you can think
of me every time you see it.
i guess i was always selfish.
i wish you'd listen to
the wind as it growls
my name and moves my house.
i wish we'd fit together
like jam and peanut butter
but we match as much
as my socks do at the moment.
one's green, the other's
a stripy rainbow.