Newest
NecromancyShe exists now only in remnant data: photographs, saved chat logs and music files; digital fingerprints lingering traces of her left in pixels, letters and notes. A pale shadow of her is all else that remains.Necromancy
A hull walks in her place. It wears her clothes, answers to her name, and sleeps beside her lover. But its movements are lethargic, its voice is a dull murmur, its dim eyes are unlit with the flame of her spirit. She is an act it can't pull off.
Cast out into the woods, its creators do not have to see the ugly details of their work from their distant tower. White can be black and blue can be smoke, so that red
by ~throwaway-tourniquet
Waiting Room GluttonySo her maudlin, despaired ghostWaiting Room Gluttony
just didn't go quietly. It's been haunting the house
with a camera, taking polaroids of the crime scene and trailing the evidence to their doors.
The accused objects –
the shots are all staged. The emaciated body, with a break
in the spine, and the third degree burns are all smoke&mirrors. She must have done it to herself.
They brush the photographs into the trash, out of sight,
joining all the needle&thread she delivered over the years, and the one-of-a-kind paintings, and the forgetta
by ~throwaway-tourniquet
Jester's Last JokeGet this. I spent every year of my lifeJester's Last Joke
imprisoned in a clown costume because it made them smile at me
Except for once-or-twice a year (check the dates!) when I was allowed out
to play correspondence nurse without hearing complaint,
But my final rejection is issued claiming I stalked shadows at every meet like a spectral vulture clawing at sores and scars with a scalpel and a magnifying glass.
And the punchline is, You’ll think I killed myself.
by ~throwaway-tourniquet
Myopia Gets the Best of UsI’m thinking maybe I just wasn’t quite ugly enough, diseased enough, abused enough, my home notMyopia Gets the Best of Us
broken enough,
to draw your sympathy for my fragile bones, falling-out teeth,
blue lips and burnt-out eyes
because perhaps you just couldn’t quite see my coma over your AIDS.
by ~throwaway-tourniquet
Random Favourites
The Witching HourIt is the hour of hair yanking. I am like all the other insomniacs, drifting off with static in my ears and waking up with unslept muscles.The Witching Hour
Mozart terrifies me when it is this dark outside, and I find myself wading in a pile of theatre masks that answer everyone else’s questions correctly and shatter at my own.
There are no pajamas.
I have long since been unable to withstand even more layers between you and myself.
I imagine the couch as tomb— and at daybreak I wake up to people clothed in dresses too bright for a funeral.
They
by ~SoothingAngel
NeglectedEmbedded in a crystal tomb of tarnished grey In the shadows of a midnight desert Heaving breathes like wisps of smoke Pools of deposited pearls drown withdrawn eyesNeglected
This grotesque skin is my charade Dilapidated and torn, it itches. Release the tortured newborn shredding neglected entrails Tear it from my frail bones
Desecrated sobs quake the desolate terrain
A casualty bare witness Deaf, mute and blind Or perhaps indifferent The sense to care is absent The presence is insignificant Isolation deathly poisons the silent sufferer
by ~Black--And--Blue
Dragged From The TrenchesDragged From The TrenchesDragged From The Trenches
The screams have passed now, our bodies contort; limp and wasted. The poison that perverted my veins has been drained, replaced by calm deposited in my vacant quivers.
We lay still; past daring to inhale as if afraid to sacrifice the delicate silence. My tender head against your able bosom, in the fortress of your embrace I sigh; impervious
The burden that bears so cumbersome upon my mind has been restrained, once more, our secret. As secret and precious as a diamond nestled in a clam. It cost you twice your strength to bury.
by ~Black--And--Blue
Where The Dead Hopes LayToday is day one thousand, and still and silent I remain. Here I have been waiting, one thousand days in vain.Where The Dead Hopes Lay
The cobwebs tangle though my fingers, binding to the rest. Staring at the bus sign, pondering the arrival I quest.
My skin is ridged and worn; My eyes are black with stains of ash; My scars are thick and burning; As I cut one thousandth gash.
As frugal tears bring acid rain burning a crater beneath the bay, A pothole littered with broken promises, question me, why stay?
Black cape cast around my shoulders,
by ~Black--And--Blue
deviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Australia
- Interests: music | art | writing | reading
- Favourite movie: The Matrix trilogy, Fight Club, Batman Begins, Good Will Hunting, Underworld, Ned, Drop Dead Fred
- Favourite band or musician: Linkin Park|Something For Kate|Evanescence|Lacuna Coil|The Butterfly Effect|Cog|Staind|Disturbed
- Favourite poet or writer: Dr. Seuss
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Just reaching out and saying hello to a random deviant!
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Urban Planet/space art tutorial [link]
We are Legion. We do not Forgive. We do not Forget.
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"A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it's the only weapon we have." [Who Framed Roger Rabbit]
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God bless,
-Jag
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Scifi zine: The only science fiction web-zine You make possible.
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