Just one night....
Posted: Tue Dec 10, 2002 7:46 pm
(this is written under the character Dabria)
She's walking, look at her.. Devastation, in the coils of midnight's silk, Oceans deepest blue's spill across her. Crushing against the pale luminous alabaster of not the moon lit night, but the bleached bones of those who have fallen to her depths. Sentenced to now exist upon the rocky bottom of her great sea...Her gown holds no shape tonight...it needs not cling to her frame for one to see the ghastly vision of her form. So dangerous thin.. had she truly lived, she would be dead...self inflicted starvation. The hate of one appearance is indeed a deadly weapon. It cuts sharp with each side longing glance at those before her...you...
Can you feel it now?...the thoughts the ideals that even in this seemingly waken age of light, darkness and magiks seep from one mind to another leaking, gushing upon the alter of things to come. Some have said minds are terrible things to waste. Even more disturbing is when they are use to their fullest capacity. when all the keys holes have been looked through and doors unlock, it is too much for one individual to under go. Instead she pieces it out.. allowing those who happen by and those who she traps with a look to share in her discoveries.. which are you?
Have you heard ..heard it whispered in the halls, hushed in the gardens....Are you one of the lucky ones ?...have you walked upon sacred ground and found her weeping the blood tears for those who have come before you and failed to understand her pleas. To decipher the meaning beneath the madness. It has not happened yet..
Look across the room now....look she is occupied, paused before a acquaintance, a victim. She will not see you...look upon her face, not like the dreams, nor of the rumors of years past. But broken stitched together by false pride and vanity will you be cruel? will you mock? would you stain her perfection to watch the fireworks of convulsion that would surly follow with one of her obsessive compulsive nature.
Are you afraid?
turn back to your fire, your companion, your evening cocktail, do not busy yourself with the thought of the planet wide chaos that rolls freely throughout her thoughts, and to which is echoed, ricocheted off her lips in vile courses of rich honey tones.. Laughter, even the back tip of her head is pure in the motion is wishes to reveal. She is a study in the love making between the simple and the complex. Never allowing either to gain full control. The intercourse is by design to hide the truth behind her thin yet polite smile.
She's laughing again, harder it seems then before, her throat stretched rolls beneath tightly pulled skin. What tragedy has she found so amusing this eve.
Your dreams sing to me like sin.
Those words were meant for you, as they are mouthed from her lips so crisp so clear, they need not sound to form life. Her eyes large oval orbs of gray oceans barely take the time to look across the room to you. Were you looking? It matters not for it seems no matter where the journey of your eyes...those thin pale lips reflected back at you mouthing such succulent tastes.
She leaving again.. abandoning us once more to our fantasy, to our inner vision of her. would you yell at her to stay? Could any hold water with merely their hands....no and once she has vanished from your sight you should have after all one question to ask..
Whose voice is this?
She's walking, look at her.. Devastation, in the coils of midnight's silk, Oceans deepest blue's spill across her. Crushing against the pale luminous alabaster of not the moon lit night, but the bleached bones of those who have fallen to her depths. Sentenced to now exist upon the rocky bottom of her great sea...Her gown holds no shape tonight...it needs not cling to her frame for one to see the ghastly vision of her form. So dangerous thin.. had she truly lived, she would be dead...self inflicted starvation. The hate of one appearance is indeed a deadly weapon. It cuts sharp with each side longing glance at those before her...you...
Can you feel it now?...the thoughts the ideals that even in this seemingly waken age of light, darkness and magiks seep from one mind to another leaking, gushing upon the alter of things to come. Some have said minds are terrible things to waste. Even more disturbing is when they are use to their fullest capacity. when all the keys holes have been looked through and doors unlock, it is too much for one individual to under go. Instead she pieces it out.. allowing those who happen by and those who she traps with a look to share in her discoveries.. which are you?
Have you heard ..heard it whispered in the halls, hushed in the gardens....Are you one of the lucky ones ?...have you walked upon sacred ground and found her weeping the blood tears for those who have come before you and failed to understand her pleas. To decipher the meaning beneath the madness. It has not happened yet..
Look across the room now....look she is occupied, paused before a acquaintance, a victim. She will not see you...look upon her face, not like the dreams, nor of the rumors of years past. But broken stitched together by false pride and vanity will you be cruel? will you mock? would you stain her perfection to watch the fireworks of convulsion that would surly follow with one of her obsessive compulsive nature.
Are you afraid?
turn back to your fire, your companion, your evening cocktail, do not busy yourself with the thought of the planet wide chaos that rolls freely throughout her thoughts, and to which is echoed, ricocheted off her lips in vile courses of rich honey tones.. Laughter, even the back tip of her head is pure in the motion is wishes to reveal. She is a study in the love making between the simple and the complex. Never allowing either to gain full control. The intercourse is by design to hide the truth behind her thin yet polite smile.
She's laughing again, harder it seems then before, her throat stretched rolls beneath tightly pulled skin. What tragedy has she found so amusing this eve.
Your dreams sing to me like sin.
Those words were meant for you, as they are mouthed from her lips so crisp so clear, they need not sound to form life. Her eyes large oval orbs of gray oceans barely take the time to look across the room to you. Were you looking? It matters not for it seems no matter where the journey of your eyes...those thin pale lips reflected back at you mouthing such succulent tastes.
She leaving again.. abandoning us once more to our fantasy, to our inner vision of her. would you yell at her to stay? Could any hold water with merely their hands....no and once she has vanished from your sight you should have after all one question to ask..
Whose voice is this?