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WhispersWhispers in the dark that no-one will ever hear
Spark in the charcoal etched corners of my mind;
Flashing lights that make the rough shadows rear.
And then, like blood, wash away and disappear
Leaving nothing but scorch marks and stains behind.
The Curse of the New HeartThe events that took place on the roof were still a bit of a blur to Sherlock. He could remember his fear, the hopelessness that had engulfed him as he called John to say goodbye. He fell, and everything turned black. Then he woke up.
The next few days had been worse than his panic in Dartmoor. He had found himself alone in an old sewer tunnel, lost and without his phone. All he had was his blood stained clothes and a pocket watch.
He was unscathed, but everything felt off. His mind was working faster than ever, but at the same time he did not feel overwhelmed. At least not by the work. The new, random, impossible information flooding his head was the problem. He could not believe it, the whispers that he was not human, but an alien from a planet galaxies away.
Sherlock had wondered if he was in some sort of afterlife, despite his disbelief of such a thing.
The whole idea of life after death was to comfort those who needed it, and so he discarded that theory.
There was a simple test, b
Dead Town I. I. I.
The world ended in my backyard. I was there when it imploded in the messiest, most horrifying way possible and with enough force to shock me and the rest of the human population, to the point our brains probably resembled Jell-o.
But wait; I'm getting ahead of myself here. There's more to the story and here is h
Would You Miss Me?Would you miss me, if I said I’d die tomorrow?
Would you kiss me, as I lay there
In that six by four foot hollow?
Do you think that I would be remembered?
Or would my name burn to ash as soon as
My life is ended?
Could you not bear to be beside me?
Would you leave a grieving mother to think
I am where she should be?
Would you miss me, if I said I’d not be home?
I love you and if I had a choice then
I’d not leave you alone.
Take care of my family, tell them where to go
If they’re asking after me, where I am
Tell them you know
Would you tell me that you’d not loved completely?
Until we held hands and you knew that you were,
In love with me?
Would you ask for money that you think you’re due?
Or would you want the book of poetry,
That’s all about you?
Would you miss me?
As I hang up the phone for the last time
Would you miss me?
As you sit and hold yourself close
Like I do now your life is through
Would you miss me,
Like I still miss you?
Grip me or Free me (3/4)Grip me or free me (3/4)
Finn’s vision turned into tunnel vision. Everything at the edges was dark and the only thing he could see was the necklace resting at the palm of his hand. The gold of it was opaque, and dingy, just like the gold he had found with Jake in their adventures together. His mind raced with everything…everything but that of what the necklace meant. He thought of different ways to polish and bring the shine back to the gold; to make it new again.
“Finn, you have to look inside of it.”
He could hear Marceline’s voice telling him to look, but he didn’t want to. He felt as if he remembered the locket, yet he couldn’t be sure. “W-where did you…” He paused not sure how to continue his question, “get this locket?”
“Open it Finn. Just open it.” She beseeched.
Taking a deep breath, and holding it, he opened the locket. He could feel Marceline looking over h
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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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