|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
StalkerI would that I could drink you;
The coolest, sweetest water,
so refreshing that it makes my
mouth seem only further
I wish that I could watch you;
Day and night, every breath
and step, every expression when
you think that no one is
I want to listen to you;
Every lie, every bland observation,
your questions, your speeches,
the private thoughts inside your
If only I could see you;
From head to toe, every eye-lash,
every gesture, each color in
your eyes, every scar, every blemish, every
I want that I should know you;
Every word, every whisper, every
sigh, each memory burried,
each thought repressed, each
and every regret that you have ever
I would that I could touch you;
Brush your heart with my lips,
your mind with my words;
That I could wipe away your tears
and open your eyes;
That I could share breath with you,
revive the life within you.
I wish that my tears would
bring you back to me, that
you would love me.
I wish that you could see
LaughLook for the woman who Laughs like a dolphin.
You may find me there;
wrapped in her arms and curled close.
Warm, and soft as she smiles at that long ago camera.
Look for me in Raw Potatoes.
I took a bite out of one once,
tasting the bland, and flavorless;
the bitterness so unexpected.
Look for the flowers of the Spider Plant,
And Huge White Chysanthemums,
White Tiger Lilies,
They're what I like best.
Look for Scar-Webbed hands that have seen better days,
With old gashes that turn purple in the cold.
Look for me in the Washing Machine,
Or the dryer,
'Cause That's what life was like:
Spun 'round and 'Round till your soaked,
then 'Round and 'Round till you're all wrung out,
Then 'round and 'round till you're dry.
That's what Life is Like.
Look for the Woman who laughs like a Dolphin.
You may find me there.
Waiting for something to break the stillness,
The silence of the photograph.
OzGirl with an emerald eye
Why, she asked
of the emerald seas.
By and by
Said the man said she.
Cry to God
in a church did she.
Sighed white mums,
gave him an emerald bee.
By and died
said only he,
All for the gift
of and emerald sea.
DeathShreds of paper,
And patches cut from your favorite skin,
Beads pushed into the carpet
where vacume cleaners can't reach them.
and brown spots.
broken in fire,
old chip bags,
and Spaghetti sauce stains.
and lines of sand.
A strange smell,
and basket weavers.
All is lost to the wind.
They jump from their perches,
Teathered as they are,
And their feet don't touch the ground.
Shrouded in white,
So close to God,
We dare not look upon their faces.
They leave behind reality,
Casting aside their bodies,
They leave us to Pray.
HerShort and thin, bony almost. She looks older than she is, with wrinkled hands and fine lines around her eyes; too little sleep.
The muscles in her neck are permanently strained, because she keeps her chin in the air at all hours of the day. She always manages to stare down her nose at you with hazel-green eyes. Her lips are stuck in a downturned possition, like she smells something sour, and are painted entirely too red. They match her carefully stenciled eyebrows.
Tight curls, dyed red perhaps, cling to he scalp as though afraid of being left behind. Her head has a habitual wobble to it; maybe indecisive, but I believe it was never screwed on quite right. She seems to want people to think she's a teddy-bear, always trying to give out hugs that no one wants, she's creepy enough without them.
She has four general expressions:
Concerned; she's not, really, it's her job. Stoic; which turns out looking more haughty than anything else. Pouting, or Puppydog Eyes; even though she tilts her he
Keep in Touch!
^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