Newest Deviations

ClingingHold me in your arms. Press me to yourself. Squeeze the life from my veins, the breath from my throat. You whisper my name and it is like a dagger in my heart, thrust in with power and then left, lingering in the bloody hollow of my self. Your skin is warm against mine and your scent is familiar, yet I am not comforted. Hate and love mingle, and I can taste the change upon my tongue.
I am surprised to hear your voice once more. “Save me,” you plead. Do you not know that I am the one that needs saving? I cling to your body and you to mine, but Clinging
by ~allibabab

And Nothing More“You’re sick.”
In response, the blade he holds tightly in his grasp is raised up to his lips. The thickening blood upon the blade glimmers morbidly like a beacon of death and pain. I see his snakelike tongue slither from between his fat lips and touch the blade. The bile bubbles sickly in my throat. Smacking his lips together, he stares into my eyes, revealing himself fully to me and knowing that there is nothing I can do to save myself from him. He doesn’t care now that I know who he is. What he is.
“What do you want, my love?” he asks, sheathing the And Nothing More
by ~allibabab

A Rose's FragilityA delicate rosebud lies pale against the morning sun, the morning dew. The sweet petals enclose a heart beating so purely, so solely based on the completeness of its beauty, that in that moment of uninjured radiance, it is perfect because it is fragile. It will bloom, it will grow, and it will die, and its mortality is what makes it exquisite, what makes it alive. Like the whisper of the wind, this mortality is one moment upon your skin, in your eyes, burning in your heart, dancing, and the next it has sailed off, across the horizon, on toward the heavens. Sweeter than a bite of peach, it is lovely, and imperfect, and perfect, all in one. Its A Rose's Fragility
by ~allibabab

Do You Believe?She smiled mysteriously, seeming to laugh at me as if there was something indescribably humorous about my looks, and yet her eyes were seeing something far away, something that no one could see but she. One pale-skinned hand lay placidly enfolded in her skirt while the other lay upturned, as if offering something, on the armrest of the large maroon chair she sat in. The light that filtered in through the windows was not a natural, yellowish white, but stark and bright; it did not seem to really come from the setting sun outside. I wondered how long it had been since this room was last looked over by the maid a Do You Believe?
by ~allibabab

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~Vitani-Le

Crazy great quote from OSC's book.

Mon Nov 15, 2004, 1:56 PM

Crazy geek that I am, I'm posting a quote from a great book by a spectacular author. Here we are:

I did it, Mikal told himself, staring into the flames. I did it.

And yet not well enough. Because after all of this a boy had to stand there tonight with blood on his hands, looking at the corpses of the men he had killed. I started all this so that no boy would ever have to do that again.

Mikal felt a pain inside himself that he could not bear. He put his hand into the fire until the pain of his body forced the pain of his heart to recede. Then he wrapped the hand, salved it, and wondered why inward woulds could not be so easily healed.

-OSC, Songmaster

Gah! Makes me want to puke with its goodness.

Why do we have no matches? And why can't I find the incense stand? What is this world coming to? Well, the third question I suppose can be rhetorical. Not really, actually looking for an answer to that one.

I want some chocolate. Yum.

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