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Cancerous CompanyWhy am I allowed peace
Why am I given release
And then I return to reality
Creased with sunken fatality
My eyes are ridden with dullness
From sleep deprivation and tiredness
These premonitions are killing me
And I'm the only one who sees
Lend me a hand so I can waste with comfort
Give me your gaze so I won't hurt
I need to remember what is and isn't real
What am I or aren't I still going to feel
No one is here, they've all left by now
I figured they'd disappear somehow
Go sin and leave, steal, take
Yet I must survive in your wake
This isn't supposed to happen This isn't supposed to happen to me.
I'm not living a song.
Then why do I feel so sickeningly?
Why do I insist on going on?
I'm an old truck that even no hipster would love
Just broken and ripped from all my use
My Lord, take me to your above
Save me from this reality I refuse
How could I have been dropped in the rain?
I shouldn't have gone down screaming
But I guess lyrics aren't all the same
But it's true that hearts don't break even.
I wish I had him, I wish I could stay
With her it's the only resolution I should take
Nothing is fair anymore, there is no only way
This is growing up now, this isn't fake
EnglandxReader: Oh dear."Oh, God, don't start that again!" You groan.
"Bl- Bu- What? My on-the-spot recipes are the most exquisite dish at the party, and it takes less time than following a recipe," Arthur retorts.
You eye the peppermint extract, white chocolate chips, coloring dye, and coconut closely. Arthur sniffs and ties the apron around his midriff tighter.
Sighing, you return back to the table and pull out a chair. As you begin to read the most interesting headline in today's paper, Arthur hunches over the counter, laying his hands on the edge of the counter.
"So... that's... it? No more nagging or-or... advice?" He asks rather solemnly.
You turn around slowly in your chair, peering at the Briton. His forest green eyes were on the table, his bottom lip slightly sucked inward.
"Do you want me to chastise you? Jeebus, that's a little masochistic."
"N-No, it's just this is the first time you've let it... slide, y'know? Does that mean they're actually good?"
You blush and stammer,"Um-that's..
FrancexReader: GiftsAs 'It's Beginning To Look Like Christmas' began to waft comfortably around the room, and Francis returned to your side.
You sigh and nuzzle into his side, and he lays his arm over the frame of the couch by your neck.
"Bing Crosby is perfect," You murmur.
Francis chuckles his French chuckle and replies,"I know you like the back f my own hand, do I not?"
You smile,"Then what do I want for Christmas?"
He blinks and responds immediately,"Me."
You laugh and shake your head.
"Wha....A scarf set with gloves and a hat."
"No, but if thats what you want, I know a place."
Francis holds his forehead with his free hand in anguish, "Mon dieu.... What is it you desire?"
His eyebrow twitches unseemly.
You shrug and grin.
"So, my cooking talents are the only things that you truly love? I am offended...." Francis frowns.
"Its not that I enjoy the food, I love that you're giving me something you made, even if you're thinking about my g
PrussiaxReader: I'm so sorry what did I...."But it's tomorrow~!" You whine.
"So, what's the big deal?! You don't understand the glory of having a birthday on the weekend, do you?" Gilbert argues exasperatedly.
You hmph, just as exasperated as him. "But when it's not on a school day, no one but my family can wish me a happy birthday! All my friends are busy, and I have nothing to do but watch television!"
Gilbert exhales and crosses his arms, looking down at you with his impossibly garnet eyes. "You know, you kinda come off as a little selfish there. Just a bit."
You blush wildly. "What, so I'm a conceited brat if I want to be with friends rather than family on the day of my birth?"
Gilbert's frame collapses as he huffs. "Why're you telling me all of this, anyway? I'm supposed to be there, isn't that good enough?"
You start, but let it go and give him a hug. "Sorry. it's just it's always on a day where no one but my family can celebrate, for some reason. I'm cursed."
He snickers, wrapping his arm over your sh
IcelandxReader: Galaxy DreamsI watch her. She's fascinating...
Like I have a choice to look anywhere else...
Each day I'm trapped in a mirror, but though I have no recollection why, its worth the prison.
There's a girl here I like a lot. She can hum pretty well and is neat and has a pretty face.
The girl stays in her room a lot, and she reads, and doodles, and does her homework. Her radio is always playing music; she's like that. There's always music.
Sometimes, after her showers, she hums to the music as she gets her clothes prepared. I still have the courtesy to close where I think my eyes should be, but once I saw her and it like a dream. It could've been, but I don't think I dream. I don't know, maybe. But, I now that if I did, that would be the best dream I've ever had.
She's slender in a curvy way, not bony, and her hair slides over her shoulders like a solid, silky waterfall. Her eyes darken whenever she looks into the mirror, and I like to imagine that she's trying to find a way to get me out
AmericaxReader: Something Different"Just as I eat something, or sit down, I'm practically gaining calories in the hundreds!" Alfred whines gloomily as you hold up a way-too-small sweater to his masculine frame. "Why does food decide to be so rich just as it enters my mouth?"
You frown deeply and sigh,"Alfred, nothing about you is fat, obese, overweight, pudgy, or chubby! You're always skipping meals or working out! I'm surprised you're not dead of malnutrition!" You carelessly throw the hanger at the rack and continue looking for a more appropriate sweater.
"Yeah, but then I eat, like, a whole pile of the only food that tastes good!" He retorts, hastily huffing.
"You're fine," You say, and press your lips comfortingly on his cheek.
He stares at you, his unbelieving blue-eyed gaze harsh smoldering your eyes.
You can't held but let a pout spread upon your lips. "Well, maybe you should find a better diet. Or maybe just eating right could change your taste buds," You scold in a quiet voice. "Isn't this
These DaysAll the girls aren't worthwhile if not thin
All clothes aren't acceptable if they are not 'in'
No one can get rest after putting their electronic to sleep
No one ever goes to a store without thinking of what to eat
Why do our lives have a due date, why do we think time ends
Why should we follow all the media's latest trends
Everyone has to have a label in order to be noticed
Everyone has to pretend to not be focused
Since when do we have to try to be so different?
Since when did people forget they are made omnipotent?
Some generous being made us, why can't we accept that and be happy
Some, if not all, are wishing this in their minds just like me
Request ArthurxReader"Another one?" You ask, your eyes boggling slightly at your creative friend Arthur.
"Yes! It's brilliant, and theres no way it'l shock anyone again!" He enthused.
You sigh and chuckle, taking a seat at your table. "Well, what does this one do?"
He laughs giddily and reaches into the box he's placed next to his clipboard, pulling out an orange cloth thing...
"A banana shirt!" Arthur announces, and quickly pulls it on over his head. Pointing to the oblong pocket on his left, he explains,"You can put your banana here to hold. For busy mornings when you've got too many things to hold for breakfast! With my Banana Shirt, you'll give yourself an AM relief ASAP!"
Inwardly giggling about his British pronunciation of 'banana', you ask,"Was that your presentation speech?"
"Um...Yes, but a little more...slow..." He scratches his head and turns his forest green eyes to you. "What do you think?"
You speculate as Arthur watches intently, and, impersonating his accent, say,"If you introduced a line o
Il est temps de partir, infants de l’aube grise
Il est temps de savoir, ou d’aller à la brise
Nous fûmes sœurs de sang, d’âme et parfois de corps
Mais la nuit nous priva du repos dû aux morts.
Comme la feuille au vent, nos racines sont sèches
Fiancées aux tombeaux froids, mariées aux ravins rêches ;
Sous le soleil Corinthe, et Athènes et la Pnyx
Sous la lune le Nord, et l’horizon d’onyx.
Marchez, blêmes infants, découvrez sous la terre
La triple damnation accablant votre mère,
Prenez garde en entrant dans l’antre du passé
Son goût pour le sang froid jamais ne s’est lassé ;
TranscendenceI'd like to be the sun as well as the moon:
for me to be star-crossed and tragic.
I'd like to be remembered, and legends be true
And be regarded, above all, as magic.
Let mythology be damned, they'll worship me so
For they hardly even know.
Let mythology be damned,
Let mythology be damned,
Their song and dance will be quite a show.
I dream of the day I'm fire within the ice
Encapsulated in all my splendor.
But maybe just a marble statue will suffice
As long as they gaze and worship in wonder.
The shrines will come and the offerings will flow
And the cults will branch in droves.
The shrines will come
The shrines will come
And wide-eyed followers will come in tow.
It'll be easier to be a martyr
Because there is no hard work for me.
I'll just need to pose with my dog and armor
I'll receive a holiday, you'll see!
Like water in amber, I will be memorialized
And become the spark in your eyes.
Like water in amber
Like Water in amber
Becoming an idol is a clever disguise!
The InquisitorBy right of God
The Holy Spirits
And the Church
I shall shape the world
A world bound by unity
Where none is an enemy
A world expelled from evil
Where no demon roams the earth
My sword fighting the fire
That defies my belief
A scorched stake
The end of all my foes
By right of God
The Holy Spirits
And the Church
I have shaped the world
Silver Slips and DancersIt’s there in the beaten mirror she holds
In broken hands she cries of a defeat
The night will take her before she grows old
And they will cry, “narcissist” in the street
There, she dances softly on the surface
And shows the swan what it means to pirouette
But she cannot break exteriors face
found so ashen from the year’s cigarette
They will write books about that wayward girl
Speak of once easy laugh and softest eyes
That such light could be consumed by this world
should show that both bones and beauty will die
Pressed fingers to lips form a last cachet
In silver, shard veils, sashaying away
Who? RegeneratedHartnell, Troughton,
And last, McCoy
And then it’s gone,
But wait – oh joy!
It’s Paul McGann
(He doesn’t last).
It looks as though
His time has passed.
So many years,
An endless wait.
He’ll not again
But now, at last,
And Tennant too –
A brand new run
And Smith, whose time
Will soon be through,
Will pass it on to
Who knows Who?
Oh look, that guy
That used to swear –
Will be on air.
But wait, there’s Hurt.
My brain’s confused.
Getting well abused!
And now, McGann
Is briefly back.
I swear space-time
Is going to crack.
It’s just a TV show
And no-one can
The future know.
You step inside
A box of blue
And take a ride.
No HeroWe pledge ourselves to saintliness.
We turn our eyes away.
Forget that people suffer.
Not here, and not today.
Turn our faces upwards
And sing into the sky:
Hell must find a hero
When all the angels cry.
Love Sonnet #3Love Sonnet #3
My tranquility, my peace of mind
Cannot be found outdoors
Nor can it be found in a throng of men
They have a voice like a lion's roar
They never frighten or intimidate [me]
Nay! They only disgust and bore me
My peace of mind, my joy at heart
Is found at home, with one
Who I love and who loves me
From dawn till dusk, till dawn
For I know that we both crave much love
And we cannot bear to live alone
Aye! there is but one source of peace for me:
That is my love, my sweetheart, Puabi.
Bhraitheann An Ghaoththere is no longer such a thing as the exhonerated title of
when tainted with corporate conceit
the stench of which is embedded by a fetid education
and encouraged by the false prophecy of a system
suggesting reward for 'good' competition as the pride of all being
when in fact it contaminates and putrefies all things associated with
this succubus chant of capitalistic patriotism has become a lucid stain on humanity
the word – patriotism – used in false triumphancy by resigned and cowering souls
or against that small mass of inquisitive human flesh that understands and demands
the symbolic fake will never be accepted
please, oh please, oh supreme being, help us
march to a drumbeat only when the drummer is truly known
and pounds and thrums and exemplifies the demand of a
that will never skip to an inconsequential beat
by the unethical goosestepping marching band leaders that now control
the sunday morning reigns
of proselytizing whores
You Be The Family...Father, thank you for all your efforts.
Mother, thank you for all your sacrifices.
But please don't cry for me.
For in heaven there is no room.
No room for the tears to fall.
Brother, you were my idol.
Sisters, you've gone through more.
I'm not as strong as any of you.
I'm more than half of you all.
I've seen it all.
I've felt it all.
I've heard it all.
Yet not as much as you.
'Cause I'm not as old but
We all know that some
Are old even when young.
Since we've all said
it's whats inside
not what is outside.
But I can tell you.
I'd rather be outside,
Then stuck inside.
All by myself.
So I'm letting go.
That this is goodbye.
(c) Damien Blaze 6/12/2013
A Dream's AbsenseSleeping, dazing, dreaming,
How did I get to this place?
But soon I'm woken up
By just the mere image of your face.
I'm being woken up again,
Snapping back to reality.
Oh no..Oh no...!
There goes the gravity!
Falling! Spiraling, screaming!
Is this the end of the end?
I'd hope to see you before I die,
Before I'm too far 'round the bend..
There's nothing worse than this feeling,
This rupture of utter horror,
It's the absolute worst, I fear,
Right there, staring at me in the mirror.
But then, I suddenly realize,
It was only a stage of the aforementioned dream.
Nothing at all to now worry about,
Unless that was an omen of a future scene.
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
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