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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
Darling, Don't You DareTo the girl who skips dinner,
Because her reflection hurts more than
To the boy who wears sweatshirts
On hot summer days,
Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over his
To the boy who weeps uncontrollably
Until he falls asleep,
Because it’s the only way to escape into his
To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom,
Because the dark is more peaceful than her
To the child who gets angry,
Because no one understands.
To the teens who self-harm,
To the ones in recovery,
To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…
For the girl who skips meals
And the boy who wears sweatshirts,
For the boy who cries,
The girl who hides,
And the ones who just can’t do it anymore.
You’ve come this far.
Don’t you dare give up on it, now.
I am the daughter of a sailor.There is pure sea water
rushing through my veins
& my vocabulary can be
just as colorful.
how do I begin to tell you
we all have jungles growing
in our chests?-
by human hands?
I like to pretend
it’s Draco residing
in this chest of mine-
clogging my lungs,
I have forgotten
how to write
or anything with a shred
I have no space left within myself
for celestial, fire breathing dragons-
because I realize now
when I look in the mirror,
I do not see my father.
I screamMy scream is loud.
My scream is honest.
My scream is desperate.
My scream is filled with truth.
Why would nobody hear me?
You're Not DepressedDepression isn’t what you think it is.
You’re just sad.
If you and your boyfriend or girlfriend just broke up, you’re not depressed.
If you are longing to be with that one girl or boy, you’re not depressed.
If you really want to meet that one celebrity, you’re not depressed.
If you haven’t gotten a text from any of your friends all day and want to talk to someone, you’re not depressed.
If you cried in the shower last night because you want that guy to be your boyfriend,
Or sat on your bed last night with your face in your hands wanting to be with that one girl,
You’re not depressed.
Until you have hated yourself,
Felt no self-worth,
Felt like you’d never amount to anything
And are useless,
You want to lie in bed all day and do nothing but think,
Think you are never good enough for anyone,
Don’t deserve anyone,
Lost any interest in drawing, writing, reading, singing, etc…
You don’t want to be around anyone, just by
dearly belovedthese days
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
Let me dieGo away
Leave me alone
And let me die
Of this world
I don't want to live
Because there's no light
At the end of this tunnel
So I'll just end my life
Don't try to stop me
And we'll meet again
On the other side
Outside this dark tunnel
I am afraid of monsters like you.Bones and sinew cling
to the part of me
that is not human,
the part of me that
Your lips are ready
to pounce mine when
you lace my neck with
the collar of hope.
It hangs too tightly.
Only GirlsOnly Girls can suffer from weight loss,
can cut and cut until their blood is all gone.
Only girls can cry out their angry emotions,
and watch them pool from their eyes like the raging oceans.
Emotions are qualities reserved for women women only,
without them, what men would bask in their glory.
Only women can abort an unwanted fetus,
when a man mourns his lost child, he's nothing but a bigoted sexist.
Only girls can wear their hair long,
put on cake loads of make up, and twirl their hips to a song.
Strip down in public to your bra and underwear,
only girls will get angry when their objectified by eyes everywhere.
Only girls can swallow the pills,
because boys are never depressed, they only grow ill.
Only a woman can claw at her defenseless husband,
and when he tries to defend himself, he's considered little to nothing.
Cry 'sexual-harassment' in the midst of your workplace,
only girls can get away with this, when nothing was done to them in the first place.
Abuse is impossible if it ha
words, wonderlight has faded and words are heavy,
but there is a delicate magic
twisting between your fingers.
it is all a-scribble
melisma without music;
syllables stitching terra firma
to firmament in intricate
stanzas that require
neither breath nor sound
to echo, infinite,
within the depths
of susurrous souls.
it is cold and it is dark,
but there is a fire in you
and you use it with a fierce grace
that illuminates the shadows,
and ignites the demons
until not even the grey spaces
that haunt and harry
can hold dominion.
they are exposed
they are broken
into shards of sunrise
and rays of a quiet
you scare away the night
with exhalations that blow
away the fogged emptiness
inside, over and over,
sparking fireworks from
what was thought
to be ash.
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