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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 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 - I di
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
What's In The Box?*Enter. Examines self. Very pleased.*
Pride: Good warm morning, ladies and gentlemen. *Looks around at them* What are we all staring at? *Notices box* A box!
Envy: Before you so joyfully strolled in with your entire swagger, yes, we were examining a box.
Pride: A swagger greater than most, I might say! You see, my quality of fineness-
Wrath: Oh shut up, will you?!? I’m sick and tired of you strolling in everyday, glorifying yourself to the point of no return.
Greed: Oh calm down. There are more important things at hand. What is in the box! It could be money. A few gold bars. (Pause) You know, how about I take it home and see what’s in there. It could be…uh…dangerous….
Lust: *Staring at Greed* Hmm, you have a point. There may be something dangerous in there...*looks at box* in there….How about we go home together and see what’s inside?
Greed: *Still looking at box* Yes…yes let us see what is inside. *Looks at Sloth* Excus
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
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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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More