CloserJust a few more inches.Closer
The air in the cellar was thick with moisture; the heavy, dusty sensation made every inch of her body repluse against itself in disgust. Old boxes formed a sepulchre of shadow around her, heights varying to allow grimy, yellow light to cut through the grotesque darkness. Her heart never slowed down, not once. Every ounce of strength she ever had gathered itself within her scarred limbs and pulsated anxiously, dancing up and down her body until she hummed with the primal, pure, red fever for blood. She pressed herself as flat as she could against the dirty ground, her ears listening for the tiniest shuffle
StrangerThey found her in the morning.Stranger
Seventeen years of life had been reduced to a slumped over corpse with eyes that refused to shut. She made everyone uncomfortable now. The police couldn't look at her for long and her own parents could only glance at the dead paleness of her skin for moments at a time. There wouldn't have been a problem if she'd just shut her goddamn eyes. They were hollow now, more empty than spheres of space and twice as cold. They said nothing at all; quiet as the grave they put her in. The mortician never could get her eyes to close completely. In the end, mortified mourners gazed in shock as they lowered a gir
I tried my best.I could not look her in the eyes. I could not see the faint glimmer of hope that lingered there, and they way it would fade from the vast eternity of her soul when I told her what had happened. I could not bear the strain of it upon my heart to tell her that he had left, that he had abandoned us and cast us aside for a more pleasant pursuit. It is not in my nature to show I feel, and I knew that it wouldn't help anyone back then, either. I merely stared at her with an apologetic look, my eyes doing their best to erase the red lines that betrayed me, and my hands doing their best to dry the wet sorrow that made me ashamed.I tried my best.
&
On Still Life.Before any of this begins, I would like to you know a few things. Just a few, small, trivial things.On Still Life.
I promise.
Your face never seems to feel the same after tears pass over your cheeks. You can't fake that kind of clean, that kind of clear, fresh sadness that you just wiped away with a dirty hand or your cold sleeve. Your eyes become red after you douse them with salt and sorrow. They show inside weariness and unforgiveable weakness. They expose you to a world where the air is thin and the words break like brittle leaves in autumn, like shattering glass and tender ice and the sound is just as clear and final. &
Gone
Lonely
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Via
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I'm dancing in the shadows of life and death is all around me tonight......
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Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.
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"Getting older is inevitable.- Beeing adult is optional!"
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www.SicanStudios.com
Last update: 15 October 2009
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justt for funn
I so recognized your recent deviation from your blog. XP
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Your cock-up, my arse!
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