Llywenlla's avatar
Machina Deus Ex
63 Watchers19.3K Page Views181 Deviations
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homecoming
nearly home. nearly home. a space and time away from where you want to be: belonging to yourself. there is a midnight garden somewhere inside my lungs, black and tarry from the darkness i am siphoning from your lips to mine, trying to let the light in, trying to stop the hurt becoming a euphemism for two vertical red lines drawn in a bathtub. you have turned me inside out. raw, vulnerable; the silence is an agony. you have wormed your way inside and I have agreed to be your golem, a clay replacement for the affections of the woman who bedded herself beneath your skin and rearranged your spine. even so, let me give til i am a dry husk, let me
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Threads and fibres
Prologue hold back the screams the low wail of pain, the wounded howl.   The agony of tattered, muddled hearts   falling in shadows, dappled on skin.   decision's gristle don't go down easy my womb weeping scarlet:   slow   shedding   of self.   movement aching the fascia wound taut. Pt. 1 invaded and altered   I stand in a wilderness,   savaging myself with thoughts of you.   count the last times the way I once counted the firsts hourglass dwindling walls splintering.   suddenly comprised of   hairline fractures   scared of moving these brittle bones.   armchair demon shotgun destruction   fallen sword. Pt. 2 still haunted by t
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Swish-swimming
Honesty never decides to arrive on time. 1. Without fail, drinking alcohol robs me of the ability to feel gratitude for waking up the next day. 2. My apathy will probably kill me, if the shadow doesn’t first. 3. I’m afraid. 4. I like to read for too long in the bathtub, thinking I might be able to dissolve and emerge in the pages of a story better than my own. 5. Sometimes the daydreams are asphyxiating. 6. Farmer’s markets are a source of unending joy. 7. The effect coffee has on my mood is unholy. 8. I often think about being run over. 9. Confession terrifies me. 10. I’ve never been in a fight but I think I’d
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Hideous Kinky
 Give me something more to go on, lying spread-eagled on the floor and loving the bump and grind that’s so at odds with the midnight queen playlist. The promise of the two-hour-orgasm, pouring wine from my mouth to yours. More than the sunset tattoos of bruises, red hand marks on my flesh. A different delineation. A new kind of thrill. Give me something more to go on: more than my own desires. The curling of my toes, held fast on the edge, blood-basted and sticky. Slick with the urge to eviscerate my essence shark-circles slow like southern paddle fans. And then you say something along the same vibrating lines promise me desire and d
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Horns
 If I was a better person I’d probably not fantasise about my boss being dispatched by the four horsemen of the apocalypse, Sam Hill come to claim his due. Stirred by the sacrifice of my white teeth: coffee stained and looking a little used. If I was a better person I’d probably not write about my wants, twist the knife only to snatch back the words before they fall out of my mouth, cosmetics collecting in the corners of my lips, wine-lined and feeling a little empty. If I was a better person I’d probably not cry to try and make things better. Fix you breakfast and scramble my sense of normalcy. Tiptoeing Janus-like
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h
homecoming
nearly home. nearly home. a space and time away from where you want to be: belonging to yourself. there is a midnight garden somewhere inside my lungs, black and tarry from the darkness i am siphoning from your lips to mine, trying to let the light in, trying to stop the hurt becoming a euphemism for two vertical red lines drawn in a bathtub. you have turned me inside out. raw, vulnerable; the silence is an agony. you have wormed your way inside and I have agreed to be your golem, a clay replacement for the affections of the woman who bedded herself beneath your skin and rearranged your spine. even so, let me give til i am a dry husk, let me
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T
Threads and fibres
Prologue hold back the screams the low wail of pain, the wounded howl.   The agony of tattered, muddled hearts   falling in shadows, dappled on skin.   decision's gristle don't go down easy my womb weeping scarlet:   slow   shedding   of self.   movement aching the fascia wound taut. Pt. 1 invaded and altered   I stand in a wilderness,   savaging myself with thoughts of you.   count the last times the way I once counted the firsts hourglass dwindling walls splintering.   suddenly comprised of   hairline fractures   scared of moving these brittle bones.   armchair demon shotgun destruction   fallen sword. Pt. 2 still haunted by t
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Swish-swimming
Honesty never decides to arrive on time. 1. Without fail, drinking alcohol robs me of the ability to feel gratitude for waking up the next day. 2. My apathy will probably kill me, if the shadow doesn’t first. 3. I’m afraid. 4. I like to read for too long in the bathtub, thinking I might be able to dissolve and emerge in the pages of a story better than my own. 5. Sometimes the daydreams are asphyxiating. 6. Farmer’s markets are a source of unending joy. 7. The effect coffee has on my mood is unholy. 8. I often think about being run over. 9. Confession terrifies me. 10. I’ve never been in a fight but I think I’d
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Hideous Kinky
 Give me something more to go on, lying spread-eagled on the floor and loving the bump and grind that’s so at odds with the midnight queen playlist. The promise of the two-hour-orgasm, pouring wine from my mouth to yours. More than the sunset tattoos of bruises, red hand marks on my flesh. A different delineation. A new kind of thrill. Give me something more to go on: more than my own desires. The curling of my toes, held fast on the edge, blood-basted and sticky. Slick with the urge to eviscerate my essence shark-circles slow like southern paddle fans. And then you say something along the same vibrating lines promise me desire and d
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Horns
 If I was a better person I’d probably not fantasise about my boss being dispatched by the four horsemen of the apocalypse, Sam Hill come to claim his due. Stirred by the sacrifice of my white teeth: coffee stained and looking a little used. If I was a better person I’d probably not write about my wants, twist the knife only to snatch back the words before they fall out of my mouth, cosmetics collecting in the corners of my lips, wine-lined and feeling a little empty. If I was a better person I’d probably not cry to try and make things better. Fix you breakfast and scramble my sense of normalcy. Tiptoeing Janus-like
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Arrest
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i read about serial killers not saints
she says, “what are humans made out of, if not emotions and quirks and mistakes?” i think to myself that humans are made out of sinew and bone and tissue and if god hasn’t found a way to love us bloodily and morbidly then he will never be able to look past any of our self-taught imperfections. but i say none of this, just nod and smile, and wonder what it means that to her, all that i am is a series of mistakes stacked on top of each other. my entire body is a past i cannot outrun no matter how many times i move away and forget my name and who i used to be. she tries to take away my body, but i have fought for sixteen yea
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Mural. Korova, Aberdeen
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something that wasn't life
I could fold you into origami stars; draining out the you, rin-tin veins spiking on interstate tragedies. There aren't pills for what I have.    Lo-fi radio disease, overactive    social imagination anxieties and limbs often unattached    to any corpus. But, hey time heals all wounds, they say. Still I wonder if the weight of all our indiscretions    might have tilted us off axis, and we're teetering dangerously on the edge of some double-pulsar implosion    about to be swallowed in a gamma-ray-incinerator we'd never see it coming, anyway. But somewhere, someday strangers in a distant telescopic timegaze would see pieces of us scatt
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The Joker and the Thief (All along the Watchtower)
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novel
there’s tea you still need to drink. you left it on the counter again, because you’re always forgetting where you put it. it’s probably cold by now, but it’s there for whenever you’re ready. here’s a blanket to lose yourself in. you don’t have to give it back. here’s another book i think will make you cry if i ever find the courage to give it to you. i’ve underlined every line that made me want to scream, that made me want to rip out my hair and destroy everything beautiful about myself, that made me want to drive across a desert in the middle of the night, that made me fall in love wit
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CHRISTMAS PORTRAIT 2014
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#295 Itadakimaaaaasu!!
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Spotlight

A
A discourse on Divinity
I’m not often moved to poetry, to stanzas sibilant and heavy on the tongue. Not given to verbally splitting the skin, pulling apart the gentle threads and fibres that weave my consciousness together. This séance, then, for this is what it is – an exorcism of sorts: is homage to the way you make me feel. To the reverence you hold me in. Me, the granddaughter of the witch they couldn’t burn. Let me tell you what you’ve raised. Cybele. Present. Powerful. I feel her aeons in the rolling of my hips. This slow bump and grind is as eternal as the sea itself. Women have always walked with the gait of the Goddess. An
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May 7
United Kingdom
Deviant for 12 years
Badges
Super Llama: Llamas are awesome! (15)
and now for something completely different...
https://justdelighted.blogspot.com/ eloise
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Ieneuer
hope i'm not too forgotten. new things to share. bilingual. teaching. france. writing a book. it's an excuse to drink coffee and daydream. faith'll move mountains. happy new year.
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Inspired
 please, if you have a moment, have a look at my newer of two blogs. http://biblicalrainsinistanbul.blogspot.com/ my scattered thoughts, meanderings and murmured musings are loosely gathered here. love, eloise
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Comments844

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nawkaman's avatar
nawkamanHobbyist Writer
Thank you for the fave! :heart:
Llywenlla's avatar
LlywenllaHobbyist Writer
You are very, very welcome. Gorgeous piece. 

Poem wasn't bad either. 
williamfdevault's avatar
williamfdevaultProfessional Writer
Happiest of birthdays! :blackrose:
TheKemper's avatar
TheKemperProfessional General Artist
Thanks for the fav!
Llywenlla's avatar
LlywenllaHobbyist Writer
No problem.