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Portrait of my MotherSometimes I´m caught by her sharp glance in the mirror. At those certain angles, her eyes spy me from their heritable corners and her jaw lifts on our proud neck to re-confirm the likeness, as if for my benefit. The blunt-square tip of my father´s nose is overcome by the rest, a speck in the middle of my face. My mother´s voice breathes, somewhere between satisfied and slightly unsettled- and I sigh with it to see the resemblance that has grown.Portrait of my Mother
by ~caritas9207
The Ark StoryPeople were getting really old and were having their way with life-- Noah himself was five-hundred. God decided that was a bit much, and He was tiring of certain individuals. So he set them a limit of one-twenty and arranged to start over. Noah hadn’t gotten on the bad side of the Lord in all five-hundred of his years, so God let him in on the deal. God ordered Noah to do math and start building, then do more counting and stock up on animals and food. In addition to being righteous, Noah was also good at measuring things. Seven pairs of some, just two of others, and don’t worry about the fish; pack a big lunch. A hundred years laterThe Ark Story
by ~caritas9207
RepertoireI wake up to some repeating shrill melody, and I scramble to turn off the phone alarm before it’s audible beyond my room. That measure has already gone off too many times today, and I can’t hit the snooze button again. I get up to wash and dress. Today I’m feeling practical, so I choose a hair tie over the curling iron by my mirrror. I check the window for chill or rain, and I grab the right shoes, again, practical today. I pick a bag to match, one that’s large enough to carry my day in. Into a pocket, I slip my music player, and at the threshold make sure tRepertoire
by ~caritas9207
Epic: Before the GameEveryone jumbles together, and I shove in trying to stand tall, to impose like uncut diorite.Epic: Before the Game
I want to prove myself: a monumental Atlas of unquestionable heavy heroism; agile like a sphinx gleaming brilliantly self-assured.
They choose their armies, And the game will begin.
by ~caritas9207
Favourites
Person Study 3Scarf. Skinny jeans. Studded belt. Dyed hair. I look at that, at the sharp yet soft features of your face, and I try so hard not to stare when I notice your eyes. Not happy, not sad, just blue and true and so very aware. I can see the curves of your hips hidden beneath the jacket you are wearing and I wonder who was the last person, if there ever was someone, to covet your body and soul like it was heroin. Why do I notice you, of all the people I notice? It was those eyes, and that tiny spark of radiance hidden deep within your soul. No one saw it but me, I know they didn't. But I know it is there, it will always be there, that strange type oPerson Study 3
by ~spinalSHIVER
The Science of Shirt RemovalIt never really mattered who was taking my shirt off. It never mattered who was putting their hands roughly on my skin. It never mattered whose tongue it was dancing over my flesh. I was never the one that wanted to disrobe my partner. They got to me first. I’m a chicken shit. There’s always an exception. If there were no exceptions what would life be? My exception, my one exception to my chicken shit self, turned out to be someone I never would have expected otherwise. I felt her eyes on my back from the corner of the room. I didn’t see her right away when I turned around. The only thing I had was the impression ofThe Science of Shirt Removal
by ~spinalSHIVER
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: College- wonderful place, wonderful :)
- Interests: Dance of all kinds- and attempts at other arts.
- Favourite movie: sweet, weepy, happy ones
- Favourite band or musician: Switchfoot, Feist, Imogen Heap
- Favourite artist: Degas
- Favourite poet or writer: CS Lewis
- Personal Quote: There was a star danced, and under that I was born. -Shakespeare
- Tools of the Trade: Feet, flute, and a juicy felt-tip pen.
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"Stop force-feeding me flowers!" ~Me
nice work.! ^^
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Viva La Cucaracha~.!
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quiver
quiver
rip
bite
suck
fuck
welcome to chemical dreams and disappointment in self and soul. i am god, no more, no less, but i created destruction.
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quiver
quiver
rip
bite
suck
fuck
welcome to chemical dreams and disappointment in self and soul. i am god, no more, no less, but i created destruction.
--
quiver
quiver
rip
bite
suck
fuck
welcome to chemical dreams and disappointment in self and soul. i am god, no more, no less, but i created destruction.
and for adding me to your friendslist.
that makes me happy.really.
youre welcome.
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*.Those who dream by day .* * .
.are cognizant of many things* . .
.which escape those who dream only by night.*
° . .* . °edgar allan poe°
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