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I've Never Had A Dream In My LifeA porch. In the middle stands a door. They are old and tattered.
A boy appears from outside the door, running. He is young. About 10. He is very energetic and playful. He immediately runs to the green lawn and starts to skate like a hockey player. He body-checks a few players. He calls out for a pass from his center. He receives it. He skates with the puck around the lawn. He stops, winds up with his imaginary stick and takes a slapper.
Nick: HE TAKES THE SHOT! HE SCOOOOOOOORES!
Nick celebrates around the lawn, running now. He yells at the top of his lungs for a few seconds. He eventually starts to lose speed. He gets tired. Gradually, he comes to a stop. He sits down on the lawn. He is facing the street. He watches as the everyday happenings of his neighborhood unfold before his eyes. He takes everything in. He starts to follow something with his eyes. It is slow, moving from left to right (we know this because his eyes are moving slowly left to right.) He is absolute
Le MoulinThe mill was a two century-old structure that housed the lives of seven generations of the Petite family. It sat on the Tarn River, just outside the peaceful village of Sainte-Enimie. The wood that made up the seemingly ancient structure was old and decaying, like I. Planks of wood would often break off the walls, the ceiling, and even the watermill itself. Every day I feared that one of the planks would hit me, but they never did. I never knew why they never did.
Prior to my time in the Petite mill, I had lived a life void of religion. My parents were both devote to their religion, and I was obligated to join them for mass every Sunday. Surrounded by stain glass windows and the silence of those kneeling and praying around me, I would do the same. However, with not many thoughts in my mind to God, it was really out of obligation that I prayed along with everyone. These actions were meaningless.
When I started to live on my own, I dropped any remnant that was left of religion in my life
StarStar above that shines so bright
Won’t you give me your sweet light?
You are so far away above the sky
Yet you are so close to my sad eye
Tie me to my waist and pull me there
I’ll leave all my friends, I don’t care
Give me the happiness I’ve always deserved
Give me the happiness I’ve always preserved
Yes you’re dead and that’s a shame
I didn’t even get to know your name
But pull me up and let me smile
And let me stay, for a little while
David's Tea employee vs. the WorldSure, most of the time they beat you to the punch. But once in a while you manage to get in there and shout it out before they're done...
"Can i quickly buy a cup of tea??".
The woman looks at me with her lazy eyes. Obviously wanting to go home, she slowly goes back behind the counter. Forgetting that a polite employee is supposed to respond to such a question,, she quickly looks up and says "Sure" with no genuine kindness whatsoever. I do not blame the girl. She probably had a shitty day at work, and wanted to get the hell out of her place of work.
"Sorry", I say with complete sympathy.
"Oh don't even worry about it."
She sends a fake smile. The lack of squint under her beautiful green eyes would make it obvious to anyone. I walk up to the counter and scan the wide selection of teas displayed. I dare not ask her what she recommends. She looks at her watch.
"Okay", you say in your head, "You're here for tea, not to sympathize. Do I want want white? Or black? Maybe oolong will do
Seven women sat in a circle'Seven women sat in a circle. One felt the wind blowing. Another...'
3: Two? What are you so sad about?
5: I don't think she's sad, my dear Three. She's......
7: Oh, One. Always on the pleasure. Always searching enlightenment through pleasure. Sixty-nine has really had an influence on you.
2: Oh my.....
4: Two? Can you tell us what is bringing about such pleasure?
6: It's not pleasure! You dirty girl! It's...
*Everyone is silent*
2: Oh...my. Oh my. I am so sorry. I don't know what went over me! I just had the most wonderful feeling in the world.
1: You were thinking about Twenty-Three weren't you...hah
2: No! No! I was not thinking. But I was feeling. I felt an invisible cold force pressed against me. It was delightful!
5: Invisible cold force? My dear, we have another word for sudden physical pleasure in this circle...
2: No! It wasn't that! It felt as if every pore on my face had opened by this...force... and had released a chilling vibe!
3: Oh m
BeckyToothpick in her mouth, sunglasses covering a large portion of her freckled face, Becky Daunt knew exactly what she was going to do once she woke up this fine morning. Maybe it was the fact that it cut down a surprising amount of daily expenses, or maybe it was because of the sheer thrill that it brought her; stealing toilet paper was a hidden joy of Becky's, and this morning will be the morning to do it. Ryerson University made it so simple and easy; it would be a shame if it weren't shamefully stolen. And the rolls! They lasted for weeks!
Becky entered her destination, Balzac's Cafe (located in the Image Arts building), and went straight towards the ladies washroom without breaking stride.
It was full of women. Becky's heart periodically dropped. She had never seen this many women in the washroom before. There were almost 10 women. She took a deep breath. It was a good thing. It was a good thing because it would be more difficult to hear her theft occurring over the chatter. There we
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
The MoveThey all say to live in the moment
They all say to look forward to the future
But no one ever says to live in the past.
I suppose they have a good reason not to
The past is a place you were once in
And will never be in again.
The past is a place where poor souls go to find comfort
These poor souls find that their souls become poorer
Once they return to their poor present.
They are then left with a feeling of longing
A feeling of longing that nothing can satisfy
Nothing, other than their past.
I live in my past.
I gently swim in the contents of my mind
I swim in a place where I am engulfed by a sea of memories
Memories that give me feeling I once felt
Feelings I cannot feel today.
I love being in that sea.
I feel I belong in that sea.
I do not swim for long, though.
I wake up, far away from where I was a moment ago
My feelings of bliss are quickly replaced with depression
A depression brought from hopeless longing
And a feeling of misplacement.
The present is not something I can escape
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More