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Three AngelsThey're asleep, three of them, like Charlie's Angels.
More innocent than a lamb, hog-tied, like a blanket thief.
Lay and cuddle and rest, loving, like your favorite stuffed animal.
Drinking bottle-after-bottle, brazen, like the manliest of men.
Sweet and warm and caring
the harsh reality that's
Outside, in the real world, things exist.
Inside, where we thrive, there's soul.
In-between, where we linger, is love.
Buried, deep down, is heart.
They come in threes, like children,
and I want to hold them all, to love them all,
but am reserved,
because I'm supposed to have walls.
Stripped of DecenyShe's fruity. I mean, well, I don't mean she's made of fruits. I mean that she smells fruity: apricot and clementine. As she breezed past me it wafted from her like an aura. The long silken platinum-blonde locks float above her skin as she bounces down the hallway with steps so graceful that they seem to not step but to fly. To say the least, I'm intoxicated.
You bump into me and spill an assortment of office work. Sorry, you say.
"Don't worry about it. Blake, name's Blake. It's your first day here right?"
"Yeah, it is." You bend down to pick up the papers. I notice a manilla folder with the title Claire Montogmery. I move to help but you brush me away.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine. There aren't many of us and we're a friendly bunch."
"Who is she?" You point at the girl who just walked past. You already know the answer, you know who she is, so why do you ask?
"Oh, she's Claire. Heart of the school some say."
"And what do you think of her?" You're the new therapist. Makes enough sense y
The Irrelevant ClassI'm so tired,
My eyes drooping,
obscuring the head,
and torso and feet of
a professor that has nothing
to teach me.
My mind wanders,
Like a busy-body humming-
bird that flicks from here,
and my attention is distracted
by food for thought.
My feet tap,
The rhythm of ambient noise,
drowning out the loudest speech,
by which it extinguishes all meaning
and retains only empty space.
ContemplationSnow lies on the branches of trees. It blows off of roofs and coalesces into spontaneous snowmen. There's slush and flurries and all manner of things. To a child, it's wonderment, adoration, but to an adult it's inconvenience, obstruction. The snow doesn't care: it merely exists.
Water falling from sky in form of crystals. Have you ever thought about it? There's a reason children are amazed: it's astonishing that such an exceptionally complex biome can make water fall from the sky as snow.
I walk from my car to my home. I've trekked this walk a hundred times. I had just spent six straight hours with friends that I had gained only a few weeks before. It was astonishing, the friends, and the snow that filled the air and blanketed the ground.
There are tracks leading to and from the woods: cats, skunks, raccoons, the like. There's a stark lack of bird chirping. The moon's in the sky and the clouds roll at an abnormally fast pace. They're white, grey, and a dark red. They're ominous like t
[Rapid Essay] Group DynamicsI get 5 minutes to write with a focus on group dynamics. Go.
People are really strange to me in that they rely upon others to function. We're social animals, so it makes sense in a primal way, but the intricate systems we construct around that primal core are idiotic, perplexing, and fucking amazing.
It's like an ant colony, right. We're all little bugs walking around the face of the planet without a true purpose -- but as a whole, seven billion of us, we make an impact. We can destroy the Earth. We can go to space. We made the Internet. (Why aren't we happy with this form of teleportation and time travel? Oh, we are, but primarily for social networks, porn, netflix, gaming, and a subset of academia. This is a generalization.)
Have you ever seen a hoard of jelly fish swim? It's majestic... Humans aren't majestic. They have group-think, where indivduals will suppress their opinions despite being right. They have fallacies, where logic fails them, and they devolve to emotional stupor. Th
To WantI really want,
approval, you see,
my pores sucking it up,
like a sponge, and it's bad,
because my capacity is infinite.
devout hunger, you see,
my blood lacking its fuel,
like an engine, profoundly lacking,
and with a coughing muffler that spews coal.
It makes sense,
to desire, you see,
my loving hands white-knuckled,
like a thief, wanton with embezzlement,
for every bit of approval and hunger and desire.
Love CastYou were a dream,
and I wondered what it meant,
the angel wings and devil horns.
You were a dream,
more than I believed,
and it never made sense,
that our bodies had fused together.
You were a dream,
attainable not by strategy,
but by the disillusion of my heart,
as I lay alone in our sweat.
You were a dream,
and you were wonderful,
but that's ended in tears,
and now I've awoken.
[Rapid Essay] HumanityPhilosophical moment of the day. I get 5 minutes to write. Go.
Every day I feel like my sanity is backsliding into the depths of insanity. It's like my touch with reality is being burned from one end to the other, weakened, drawn tight. In myself I am introspective and through that I may live, but what of the world I live in? I write these meaningless ponderings, reliably, weekly. They serve only in gauging how "gray" the world has become.
But, I survive. I'm a deaf mute floating in space-with-air-and-ground yet I survive. My mouth is zippered shut from the numerous two (count-em) two decades I've been shockingly able to survive. The world is a place. It's a thing. People are things. Things are things. Therefore, we're all worlds: plants are worlds, humans are worlds.
Think about it. Your gut has a plethora of bacteria that your body welcomes. The contract is mutual gain. Plants have a contract, and that's to live, to be plentiful, and to be fueled by the planet and sun. Animals devour
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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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