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The time of death was 3:00A.M. exactly.Autumn came and passed,
color faded from her body,
but those blue eyes still shine.
Her skeleton fingers reach
She wants the snow to come,
begging for the blush of white to cover
her naked body.
What Children Don't KnowIt is not until Evening has
wrapped her womb in the
wool of late night yearnings
that I feel the press and
heavy weight of sadness
An ugly plague
Sir La Mort has touched
time and time again-
It catches me with bone fingers
Twined into my spine
He kisses my cheek with soft caress.
You wicked devil.
I kiss him back
desert upon my lips.
ProvidersYears will pass before they uncover the stones of patriarch society, when fathers ruled with crushing heartbreaking holds on their daughters. When lies were painted and written on the fabrics of life and when the truth was undone and set forth a wild beast breaking through glass, shattering and bawling what it had wanted to breath for years and never could it ended the age of the Elder Man.
In his stead stepped up the matriarch, the maternal mother who held us close when the house fell upon our heads, us mice fleeing from the deathly shards of truth. We ran to the mother Madonna dressed in red who'd covered us with her robes until the storm had passed.
Questions, doubt, and unholy sadness settled into the hearts of mice that wept a river for what never was.
SHE comforted us and told us truth upon truth that we believed true. The fathers were buried beneath the falling leaves that would decay as centuries passed. Yet truth is another mans lie.
Today the Mother is torn down, her re
I Belong To You I hate rain. Not really, I love it. Just not when the most beautiful, perfect, wonderful, perfect, comfortable, waterproof, perfect coat in existence has been savagely butchered by my so-called friend’s Dalmatian. Every slap of rain on my naked arms is a stinging reminder of the irreparable hole in my wardrobe.
Some people might try to fill the void with lesser coats but I can’t bring myself to betray Valentino, even after her death. Instead my slippery arms grapple with each other in wet shock as I stumble to the op shop, clinging to one last thread of hope. I know in my deadened heart that I’ll never have another coat like her. Yet here I am, blundering through the elements in my vain search for the acceptance and warmth I found wrapped in Valentino’s woollen sleeves.
Thud. My body slams into the door, making the ‘open’ sign quiver and the bells tinkle in offense. I fight for entry, the door’s assault doubled by the stale funk of
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More