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BooksLet me live
In lands of black and white
Where lovers kiss
In the darkness of the night.
Let me spy
That final deep embrace
As his fang bite
Beneath that up turned face.
Let me read
Of a monsters eloquence
Of black frock coats
And unearthly elegance
Let me be
Within that world once more
Of gothic tales
Of horror and of gore.
Let me lead
A life so full of lust
Passion and intrigue
For in these books I trust
That the ending is as fair
As the creatures there within
So once again I turn the page
And my life shall begin.
Blue stars in the SkyBlue stars shine in the sky tonight
Lovers kiss beneath their light
And part when the next day dawns
A lovers embrace, an obsessions fawn.
And as the day turns to dusk
We cannot bridle love or lust
As lovers meet again once more
And from Aphrodites cup we pour
A shining sky to adorn a face
A loves kiss, a hearts embrace.
Amongst the CloverI lie in soft clovers
In emerald green grass
A bed for lovers
A sky as blue
As swallows feather
As I dream
Amongst the heather
And eyes flutter
Awake to sleeping
My body shudder
My soul is weeping
And last I die
Amongst the clover
Come sheet of mist
This life is over
To dream the world is vast and weary,
To the live this be true.
To say the dark be cold and dreary,
To the dead this is to.
But to those who see the world as I see,
Her who brings us all of life,
The world is dark and life be wicked
So leave me be from pain and strife.
Do not burden me with such as laughter,
Though that be joys acclaim.
Do not dew my eyes with tear drops,
Leave me be from hail and rain.
Do not grant me love to live by,
For tis not my wish to be.
Rid me of this thing called anger,
To feel does not appeal to me.
So leave me be, to die in darkness
Not alive and without scorn.
Leave me here in mother's centre
To not enter the world, I'll remain un-born.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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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