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The Journey Begins...After a couple days on the road, it became very apparent to Razabeth that she would require more than the clothes on her back to make this work. While the horse seemed content to continue on regardless of the weather, the girl did not share her work ethic. It was spring and in the greenbelt of the Empire that meant rain. Lots of it.
There really was not much left of the highborn lass that had set out afire with righteousness. It was very likely she had drowned a while back. Now her long hair was tangled and pulled back into a rough bun on the back of her neck. Her once bright red dress was dark with water and grime. The Popinjay had transformed into a sparrow.
"At least we blend in " She muttered, half to herself and half to the mare. It hadn't taken long for her to start talking to the animal. Questioning her sanity had not been high on her list of things to do lately. Regardless, she was right. When they finally gave up and approached one of the many homesteads that
Prologue Part 2While she lay on her back in the dust, looking up into the misty blue sky, Razabeth became aware of how very grateful she was that there was no one there to witness her final humiliation. The horse quite peacefully browsed the foliage, it's subtle rusting telling her it was close nearby somewhere out of her line of sight. A cold sense of emptiness began to set in. For a moment she closed her eyes and surrendered to it. Allowed herself to feel the full implication of the choices she had made in the past few hours. Two tear trails burned cold against her flushed cheeks. She allowed herself just this small moment of self-pity. Then she got angry.
Bolting suddenly upright she shot the unsuspecting animal a look that could kill lesser things. To its credit it did startle, shooting her a wounded look over it's shoulder. Of course this only served to jerk the poor girl off balance and into the dirt once again. A raw choked scream bubbled up from somewhere deep inside and clawed it's way into
TorpidThe rain has come,
It's cold drops falling like tears.
Phoenix flying caught unawares
entranced with the fiery colors of autumn.
Is battered by the freezing realization,
that the time has come,
The fire has gone,
snuffed out by the hovering storm.
Phoenix mourning lies weeping.
A bedraggled thing huddled small for comfort,
made bony and frail by the wet.
stripped of beauty
The snow falls deep.
a soft numb blanket to dull the pain.
Phoenix sleeping seems dead.
Eyes staring and mouth agape with silent screams,
Aching and yearning for the sun,
and the quickening of spring
to awake again.
FallingI tried to watch the sky fall
but you were sleeping...
and the clouds had rolled in
when I wasn't looking.
I stood on the terrace
disappointed and ready to give up
but I saw a streak of silver
in the corner of my eye.
I couldn't tell if I was crying
Or if a star had crossed my path
but I couldn't look away
in case I missed something...
So I just stood there
Leaning out over the railing
Neck craned at an impossible angle
FairytaleI am tired of chasing fairy-tales.
I see mirages in the desert.
Beautiful shimmering castles,
full of people that love me.
When I reach for them they're gone.
They were smoke and mirrors.
Fairies aren't real.
But it doesn't bring them back to me.
Now I'm lost in the woods,
and it's dark in there.
I'm chasing willow-wisps,
Arms outstretched - trusting the light
Then I'm falling in the mud,
and it's dragging me down.
Fairies aren't real.
But it doesn't bring them back to me.
Maybe there's no place
For love among friends...
Everything here is only a year and a day.
Then it's gone.
But I'll never grow up,
if it means being so cold.
It is so cold.
I'm not real.
Fairies aren't real.
No one is clapping anymore.
StrayThe past my love,
is not undone,
whether wrong or right.
The choice is made,
the door is closed,
there's no more time to fight.
It leaves it's mark,
'pon every soul,
a scar for all to see.
A wary look,
a cringing fear,
the sudden urge to flee.
Cast it off,
this heavy coat,
and let the seasons change.
Feel the breeze,
seek the sun,
though choices may estrange.
Our path is chosen
not by us,
and though the way be hard.
There is beauty,
there is truth,
hidden in the sward.
when your journey's though
and your heart has found it's home.
the path was clear,
there's a reason that we roam.
.just try not to
that memory, that one
wolf that calls
for the rest
of the pack;
you'll spend all
with them inside
gossamer loveyou will love a woman
who uses the word
too often. she will
diagnose dead artists' descents
into madness and laugh
too loudly at jokes
no one understands.
she will braid crowns of
flowers, she will write poems
in constellations, she will
try to walk like a dancer so
no one can hear her
leave. she will be
an ice sculpture, and when
she cries, you'll convince yourself
she's melting, she loves you, you've
changed her, you've
changed; she will wear you
like a comma, like
an incomplete thought,
in her story, and
she will leave you wondering
crooked kissesAn old man sits at a bus stop,
his ragged clothes soaked
through to his creaky bones.
He grips his beggars cup
tightly, but instead of coins it
overflows with rain water.
Passersby pass by without
giving a second glance, brief
cases clenched in swinging
hands, Bluetooth plugged into
their ears. A little girl dressed
in pink polka dots prances
to his side. Her mouth moves
quickly and his takes time to
form words. She giggles,
drops coins into his cup, and
gives him a kiss on the cheek.
He laughs a crooked grin.
CatatoniaShe scrawls life line tallies on her wrists in scars
to mark each year passed
and haunts bars looking for the love of strangers.
she finds malt whiskey and vermouth; strange mouths to kiss
she tips them back the way a lover might tip her chinny chin
She whispers slurs and looks into the abyss of gin.
He inhales death with the smoky kisses of cigarettes
injects life paraphrasing echoes of love with hypodermics to keep
the hypothermia of loneliness back
but it creeps and creeps
a slow paralysis
under the windowsill, rain falling bleak on the pane to drip
into her veins
soft dark over the threshold of the doorway to her soul
writing ink into her shadow, there -
melting behind the lidded stupor stare of dreamless minds
it stirs and wakes,
invisible monsters sleeping in her chest
they bare their teeth and bleed
pain naked in the light of morning
ugly and beautiful in the honesty of strangers unable to turn
from a car crash in the dusk.
walking in darkness
searching for touch.
To the one I forget to loveSunshine girl,
your feet are itchy for the miles
between your sighs
and hunger scratches
at your throat
but you have a smile
that swallows oceans
and your heart
into the Marinia Trench.
this heaviness in you
is a dandelion
coming home to rest
Cigarrete Smokesometimes you want to
kill the world inside you,
but you can't
because you're too worried
because you can't see the consequences
because you don't like modifications
because you can't make up
well you're excused,
excused from giving a damn,
for the cigarette lighter
(I'm too tired to stomp out the ashes
and blow the smoke away).
A Daughter Now BegottenIf reason could challenge the knowledge of infinity,
the blindness of justice;
should we not call ourselves Gods...
And Gods are we not, for if justice were truly blind,
it would hold the same fate for rich and poor alike...
Under the celestial heaven that shines above,
the beggar's crying face and the rich man's arrogant gaze...
So of The Creation we are, living in throngs of solitudes....
Each solitude made torturous by the lust for more money,
yet eased by the kindness of strangers and the love of God...
Which power of change is made,
unto glory from a prisoner down trod,
to a man of faith, who helped a dying woman in need till loving eclipse.
A daughter now begotten, of starry eyes and golden sun ray locks...
Cherished by God and adored by both parents,
though mother soon to be with the Creator Almighty,
this daughter grows up knowing the brittleness of mortality...
...As her lips of red rose blossoms,
her heart aches as the mourning moon that hides behind the bosom of clouds...
My personal Mr. HydeDoctor, Doctor!
Give me a pill.
A pill to kill the pain,
to kill the darkness inside of me.
To kill the voice inside my head,
that won't let me sleep for crying.
How could the arrow miss it's mark?
Collateral damage and innocent bystanders.
I asked for an assassination,
got a bomb.
Now I 'm surrounded,
burnt out husks
and radiation poisoning
Christmas in July.
it doesn't feel the same.
I don't believe in fairies anymore.
All illusions stripped away.
I don't feel right.
What have I become?
I think a monster crawled inside me
Do you know what's going wrong?
I think that it wants out.
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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