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The InkwellWhat is it?
But how could I explain.
How does one tell others
what it's like to go insane?
I sit in my thoughts, and drown in my head
the gray world I dwell says I'm already dead
It starts at your finger,
but maybe your tongue.
a big black splotch- where had my skin gone?
I waved it in front of my father-
told him to help me, I said
"Won't you get it off, why won't it come off
I've washed it and popped pills and done all I can
but this blotch just won't come off."
so he took me to the hospital,
but not because of the spots
he took me because I'm crazy,
because he said
"there's nothing there at all."
So I look in the mirror and see them
crawling up my skin.
I can just feel them in the back of my head
telling me to sin.
And they spread so fast and only I see
what they're doing to me.
To everyone else I'm just like them
just a human being.
The more I try to get them off the more they just come back.
They all weigh a hundred pounds,
I can't carry them all around.
Heavier and heavier
the demons always winyou can fill my heart will all your might.
try to weed out the sorrow lining it's depths.
whisper to me that i will not fall,
tell me that i won't lose it all.
you can kiss me on the lips, after you've licked away the tears.
and sit and wait for me to come home
as i run off to fight the shadows in my head
with your heart as my shield and your love as my sword.
but the demons sucking like leeches, plastered to my skin
creatures made up of evil and sin
their warm steamy breath rotting my flesh
they will always win
you can listen for the explosion,
and surely you'll see
the demons, and all that she's done to me
the woman, who smells so sweet-
who's so pretty and smiles and shakes your hand-
if you listen for the explosion
surely you can see
what she was doing to me behind her curtains,
you'll watch the blood snake down the walls
taste the acid of death in the air-
when you reveal my body you expose your deepest fears.
but the demons, laughing, they won't care
you'll only be
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