[x]

lost.Wandering,
waiting for your voice to
reach out for mine.
Fingertips of satin,
caressing the confines of my
soul;
whispering a thousand constellations to my waning sanity.
Promises upon promises,
mosaic labyrinths etched into mutilated
flesh.
Trembling lips — July's blasphemous sun
lingering above December's intangible moon,
and these looking-glass limbs scream for your
tongue to shatter me into one million
pieces.
Rose eyelashes; iron thorns and liquid petals
flutter open to the dull luster of our
salt-licked sarcophagus—
and in the end, your nebula fades away
in the disintegrating morning, just like my [heart] broken
heart.

Into the PlungeBuild me a sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.

D
r
o

Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,

[dragon's blood
and phoenix down]

And her Prince Charming has yet to come,

[glass slippers
shattering like stars]

So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,

[enchanted forests
concealing poisoned apples]

Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,

[cursed beasts
tearing down castle walls]

Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,

Poetry is:Poetry is:

the adhesive to
a fragmented soul;

broken wings that still dream of

F L Y I N G

how snapdragons breathe stardust
and orchids perform ensembles.

when 'imagination' and 'reality' at last discover a
c r o s s r o a d s,
and rush to embrace one another with fervent limbs.

why gravity seems to f
a
l
l, taking the world with it.

what flows through the veins of every pair of [shipwrecked; star-crossed] lovers.

who I am; who I was; and who I want to be.

HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."

Yet —

She hides behind an ivory mask,
skeleton smiles
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.

Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
smirk.

You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.

For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a thro

WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasmines
and stardust mountains of silver and —

No.

Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...

Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.

I want to write

gods

and

chaos.

-My mind
just can't
seem to

s h u t u p.

Too many "fuck you's"
that morph into
"I'm sorry's"
drip off this
dagger-tongue
like acid.

Monster.
Grotesque.
Liar.
Erratic.

Try and make it better. Fail. Try again. Break down.

So many faults
that seem to just
turn me into someone
I'm not.

Look into the mirror. See nothing but a clone. Fabrication. No longer me.

I stare and want
to break that glass
so that I can also
b r e a k.

Try and say something. Turns into nothing but rage. Take it out on you.

This shattered heart
only wants to make it
better
and become one again.

"I want to hate you."
"But I can't."
"So I hate me instead."
"But

They say beauty is only skin deep,so hand over that defected scalpel in your bloodless hands
and watch carefully as I peel away this tainted skin
to make way for my blackened and corrupted
insides.
And everyone can finally see
the grotesque monster that lies deep within
this soiled excuse they seem to enjoy calling
a heart.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
then why is it that I can't stand
gazing upon my reflection
every time I pass by a mirror?

24 Hoursi.
Dreams will slowly fade
as dawn breaks through the windows;
morning’s here again.

ii.
Stomachs growl and groan
as smells from the kitchen waft;
afternoon is here.

iii.
Dusk paints a red sky,
the sun retires for the night;
evening shall bring peace.

iv.
The stars and moon dance,
a waltz of shining passion;
night has come at last.

.I stare at the screen, waiting for some burst of inspiration to rain upon me like a meteor shower sent straight from the gods of literature heaven.

Nothing.

A sigh escapes my lips, and I haphazardly bash random buttons of the keyboard, watching as the blank document before me is littered with an incoherent placement of characters. The monotone click-clack seems to just resonate with the narcoleptic beating of my heart, further fueling my senseless crusade.

Where has all my writing gone?

It feels like it was just sucked right out of my soul. Ideas constantly plague my mind, yet all I can do is write them down. When I go to type them out, n

For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.

The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.

These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
“imaginary”
as long as you know their universes.

Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.

You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words

GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.

Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.

"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."

And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.

Freedom.

MuseShe twisted like vines
in a forest of darkness
while the moon shone
and the shadows danced.

Her color was crimson
and white virgin snow.
Where the two entwined,
I kissed the invisible seam.

The ravens were her hair,
sculpted from the night;
and the ocean her eyes
into which I could flee.

She fell through lines
and tumbled with ink.
She stained the winter black
while the sky shone white.

Nameless she wandered
across celestial seas,
and silent she sang
to the souls in mourning.

SadieA decade she was there
always watching me grow.

A decade she was there
through sunshine and snow.

A decade to laugh,
a decade to cry,
a decade to watch as her years went by.

Always a smile, never a frown,
she was constantly there whenever I'd turn around.

Wading in muddy rivers, racing through golden fields,
throwing snowballs for treats, catching unsuspecting birds for meals.

She was my protector, she was my friend,
she was my precious companion until the end.

Watching her brightness dim made the tears run dry,
and the limp took away that glorious freedom,
as each stumble and crash made the sobs escalate.

She was cradled in my arms

Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,
poisoning every atom of my soul.

"Bite your tongue," they say.

How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.

They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.

And so I wrote,

"Dear poetry,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."

The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:

"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and mak

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Necromancy

by *PrussianPersephone, Feb 12, 2013, 2:38:16 PM
Literature / Poetry / Horror / Free Verse

I wanted to see what makes a human heart
beat,
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
flesh,
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
corruption.

And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
smile,
dug your bloodstained claws into your
chest,
and tore out that infestation you called a
soul.

"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
sneered,
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
taste,
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
pulse."

I could only watch as you sunk back down into
Hell,
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
hazardously,
knowing you had replaced my heart with the poison known as
'l o v e.'

Necromancyby *PrussianPersephone

Literature / Poetry / Horror / Free Verse

Who said all Valentine's Day poems had to be romantic and sappy?

Just my contribution to what is possibly the worst holiday ever. An attempt at horror, somewhat, while playing around with some personal opinions on romance. Because believe me, I've yet to have delved into that lovely sea. Still a lone fishy over here.

Edit: I was wondering why I was getting so many faves on this...it made the front page. Thanks. But again...I don't understand why, this one wasn't very good. Oh well.

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

sad 1 1

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

*GermanyXItaly1000 May 1, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I will be a lonely fishy too, then... I honestly hope that you find the love you're looking for. I do. And this is such an awesome twist in writing for a Valentine's Day poem! I prefer this to the sappy ones :3

~Hetalia-Spain Feb 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

((Valentine's Day... I get mixed feelings about that day. I don't believe that people only have that one day just to do something romantic for their loved ones. What's stopping them from getting them roses/chocolates/etc. for that special person? The fact that this holiday is for romantic purposes?

I'll never understand it... But I really like this poem. Also... Prepared to be spammed. By me. Commenting. And faving.

))

*TaylorElizabethYoung Feb 25, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I like this a lot! I'd like to feature it in my new group #Paranormal-Artists

*PrussianPersephone Feb 26, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you very much!

*TaylorElizabethYoung Feb 26, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

you're welcome!

~apple-fresh Feb 15, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

hi there, awesome person! :hi:

I used your artwork title as a line for my poem! : )

Hope you won't mind! ^^

Have a nice day!

*PrussianPersephone Feb 15, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

That's perfectly fine!

~apple-fresh Feb 16, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

=autumn--thunder Feb 13, 2013 Student General Artist

_{Ooh, lovely. <3}

*PrussianPersephone Feb 14, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Ehe, thanks.

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