|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
SicknessЯ не видел в метро
Да будет известно вам;
Я не видел - дугой сидящую
У мелькающих ликов
Я не слышал
SpringНить паутины незримой тенью,
Недоплетённая Мартовской ленью,
Ты мелодична, как вдох, как выдох,
Как перекличка грозы весенней.
Кладёт на плечо невесомую голову
East of the Wall - Cantus I 'extract'That last season I recall well, how my body became sensitive to the faintest echoes of turmoil. A lot was perceived directly from the generous ether, though for some it was more rewarding than others. A sense of unrest hung trapped in the air for days, I cannot say how many, for I have lost count. Withal I have approached the conclusion that there is no fertile use in keeping count of what lasts a lifetime.
My lifetime, that is. The Iddin-ninszubur may have been counting for longer.
As the weeping ceased that day, all I took care for was to sprawl out recklessly on the rough Hivecity surface, exposed to rays of non-existent warmth. Perhaps it was the wrong season for such brainless behavior. At least with it came temporary relief from the hellish itch, so I drowned myself in the rough texture of this Smooth-skin-crafted masterpiece. Soothly, they must have though of it before any mind else, albeit they never used it in a thoughtful way. Never. I've killed days watching them thor
By this inanityBy this inanity who was made foolish once,
By venoms much the same moonstruck,
When time to chose creeping on tiptoe comes
The strings inside your heart will be too lose to pluck.
Once in a while
An autumn comes, new to a dreary life
After one of those summers, hot with desires
When ancient Aeolus holds his free and frigid fife
And in an instant blows out the zestful fires.
Step out and watch how all hopes and beliefs
Stand as a rotten forest all around.
Illusion of true love like bleak, deep-frozen leaves
From hollow trees will hurl to the ground.
Then quietly the cunning winter steps
To comfort you with beds of snow.
Behold, lying there breathless, lying low
How cupids come and go.
Sentimentality, I stagger from your beast.
With ways so foul, but necessary still,
You sow depression as the demons feast
Upon endurance and the power of will.
Rise, lover, from the threadbare bed
Reach high and wreck all memories upon the shelf;
When suddenly you'll find yourself
Contained in a sarcophagu
East of the Wall - CoeptusThe mass begins to weep. Zeverai's body, which he carelessly shoves closer to me at least feels warm, tangled in frigid threads of light.
Staggering clumsily, I fall in and out of slumber.
'You wouldn't care to join me, would you? My insides are telling me off'.
My friend's voice trembles like rime-covered leaves in the stubborn wind.
'You wouldn't, would you?'
At times he was as demanding as the drumming water. I could without guilty conscience relate this to his clamorous youth, the youth he was damn lucky to possess.
Zeverai then repeats his question, somewhat reworded to catch my attention. Coming from afar, a roaring sound stumbles upon the tip of my ear. It isn't approaching.
'What should I do about them?'
As always, it is too early for parlances. The thin branch bends under impudent pressure .
'You're good to suit yourself. Or suit them. Whichever you like.'
I immediately seek in the depths of yore and find unyielding difficulty in
The taste and smell of which
None can exemplify.
Falling in and out of control
Of lunar light.
Toxins and signals
Struggle to flow through tangled wires,
Struggle ever more.
Powered by lies,
Tangible matter and photons, at times,
A primitive mechanism
Now only wishes
To keep crawling on fluids
Other than those
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More