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The Symphony of The Deaf'There is no such thing as a true love story,' sighed the girl, 'There is only tragedy or farce.'
Her friend looked up sceptically, 'You've been reading too much Shakespeare,' he said.
'No...' she murmured, 'I've been watching too much of the real world.'
The boy stood up, and began to pace, 'Reality is a lie, it's an overly used and neglected cliché of a half truth. To find the lovers you so clearly seek, you have to turn to something more obscure...'
It was the girl's turn to look doubting, 'More obscure...?'
'More obscure,' pointed out the boy, 'But more true. Look at the sea and the sky, they have never been parted. Every day they mirror each other's emotions from speckled pink innocence to a bloody red lustfulness. The two of them are locked in a continual embrace... have you ever seen a more well suited couple?'
'And yet they have such spiteful, growling arguments,' the girl fiercely objected, 'The sea lashes out and abu
When Perfect Life Crumbles"You make me smile, oh you make so happy...."
She saw his wide eyes across the room. They were brown and shone with the glimmer of life. He grinned at her, and she felt compelled to smile back...
"When I first met you I didn't know what to do with myself...."
The street was crowded, but she could pick him out instantly amongst the bustling people. He was holding a large empty birdcage...
"And that time when you gave me that Victorian birdcage, at first I didn't understand why it was empty, but you explained it to me..."
He grinned at her, "I couldn't possibly trap a bird, could you? An empty cage is much prettier, it represents..."
"Freedom. It represents freedom. I think it was then that I realised I loved you. Remember how I kissed you? I remember...."
It wasn't long until wedding bells were crying out to the skies, the pair brought a house together, and a tabby cat. Love can sometimes be summed up in the simplest ways.
"It was perfect...
TimeI eat children. Rotting their chubby young faces and breaking down innocence.
I pin birds to the ground. Forcing their free feathers to become one with the earth and ensnaring them forever within the moist soil.
I steal luck. Snatching it away just when you needed it most, and locking it somewhere where you will never reach it. Away, where no human dares to walk.
I kill stone. Breaking it and making it fly away into the air. Making it swim off down rivers and dissolving it faster than the eye can bear to watch.
I don't go tick. My voice is that of the knell. My touch is that of the rigid coffin pressing against your back. My taste is of worms' meat. My smell is that of desperation, because you cannot escape.
You've become trapped. Trapped by the grasping fingers of time.
As If Nothing Could Be Stranger 'I have killed the one I love, as surely as if I'd placed a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.'
The girl passing by stopped walking, and looked back to face the speaker, 'What did you say?'
'I have hurt the one I love, I betrayed her,' The speaker sighed, before turning to sit down on a nearby bench in the Church Yard, 'But you cannot begin to understand that.'
Her eyebrows raised, 'Try me.'
She found the boy's mournful words arrogant. After all, she too had broken a fair few hearts in her time. No human being is innocent of that crime.
'Okay then,' He said, a crooked grin creeping onto his lips, 'I'll try you.'
Quickly, the boy sprung to his feet, and grabbed the girl firmly by the hands. Her soul gasped, and against her will fear gripped her stomach. Of two things she was certain. One, she had never met this person before in her life, he was a perfect stranger. Secondly, this boy this man was much stronger than she could ever hop
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More