I sink into tar, and the bones condensed to ink call to me. I join the ancient ones in their compression. Pierced by an arrow through my heaving breast, my ribs close and draw the projectile inwards like scrabbling fingers, greedily begging for something... anything. As once a sinner and never pardoned, I feel flames creep from below me and sting through my soles, whilst I am expected to step lightly enough to leave no footprints. Surely Hans Christian Anderson would not have written it for it were not true? I must learn to sew with the Needles in my veins. I splinter like dry beechwood, and am pressed as fresh dough. My pitted skin torn and bedraggled like lace well fed upon by moths, there is little wonder that I feel searing halos burned into me. Though a halo negates a sin, of which I cannot be absolved. Mandibles take their leave, tearing flesh, leaving blood and bile in their wake, for which I am sorry. My left side reaches grotesquely, fingertips trailing styx, and I wish to be right. All right. Until what's right becomes very wrong and I am turned around once more. The curvature of my spine humbles my shoulders baring the weight of a thousand words and untruths, and my pelvis thrusts backwards, in fear of a knifes edge or a wit just as sharp. Ink and oil wraps its sickly tendrils around me, entwining my consciousness and making love to my flesh. I am encase, being, body, and bitterness. A shard of sanity could cleanse atleast a corner of my flesh, but only for a time unworthy of mention, and calls for more shards of something far too long shattered - thus; I am painted in negative space
My tongue can be bitter but I've found someone who likes a sour taste I may once have been a cutter but they won't let me go to waste. They worship at the alter of my body, but pray to my mind The language of prayer long lost, their sanctuary Ill-defined And when our bodies turn to Ash and dust I will have been known In the petals of Peonies and the withholding of a hand Hereafter I am more than aching muscle and faulting bone I become galaxies and stars called to expand. I once told them we could be Holy And they took my words in sweet elation We embody still the sentiment wholey I become their home, and they my salvation
I, shattered and sharp edged, long to be smoothed Allow me my depth in your vast ocean You cradle my body until I am soothed Intricately I dance to your motion The roughest of tides shall do me no harm Though sand and the salt my skin has adored For I did not jump into waters calm Although jump i did of my own accord Ringed planets shine with light luminescent My mind takes its shape, my body reformed No more I try to be less transparent Changed irretrievably, my heart is warmed. For now it's the truth, what e'er else may pass You're name means the sea, and I am sea glass
I cannot contemplate a world in which you leave real footprints in the snow. In which your clothes shift in the wind. I cannot conceptualise your words being warm, or your sighs touching more than just my heart. Surely you are of acrylic, water, spun gold, and lightening. You reside between the pages of my childhood books, in colour plate next to exquisite lettering and calligraphy. You were borne of sitting beneath a weeping willow, and tapping a heartbeat into the waters edge. You can only reach me in ripples of decreasing waves, and yet you always come back to me I'm starving for you, as if I haven't eaten in years. I didn't know you were missing from my life, as a koi doesn't know it is missing water until it is dry. I would curve my spine as fibonacci intended and nature did not, if only I could be sure I would not fall through the phantom impression of where I know your hands would be. My being would be well, if only it was next to yours.
Saying goodbye to you is like saying goodbye to painting with the colour yellow when I've finally learned what sunflowers are. I know you're still there, but painting is so hard when I know how bright and blissful it could be. I feel like a sculptor with their hands removed; the clay is still there, and I can still see its potential beauty. Stepping away from you feels like stepping backwards off the edge of the world into the abyss. I have no idea where, when, or if I will land, and I don't know if the fall will be my end. If I give up yellow will I end up painting in greyscale? Will my eye for beauty grow dull or will I begin to appreciate Red? You already taught me tk love blue butterflies, hummingbirds, and lakes of shining waters. After you, blue never felt so exhilarating and alive. Blue stopped being sadness. Its cold ice, and brilliant skies, and endless tempestuous deep water. But then again... so are you.
After I became a woman I went and chose red silk nightwear. If I was to comit the acts of an adult, I could choose to look the part. With long scarlet sleeves, and delicate silk black piping. I was elegant. The legs were a mile long, but they fit, and I felt taller. I was grown It had round vermillion brocade buttons down the front and the slipping feeling across my skin. I was soft and divine. And there was a small dalmation embroidered on the chest pocket Because it turns out that they don't make sexy night wear for nine year olds.
I will never forget you. Crescent moons of your eyes in smiling, or the shy bolt of lightning beneath your eye; both gifts from the old gods as a badge of honour for your kindness and resilience. My bliss could have been in your hands... not just because I gifted it to you, but because you sculpt it like clay. You don't quiet the noise inside my head, rather arrange it into swelling symphonies Dazzling light so powerful comes from you in the middle of the night, and the sound of drumming. The softest fabrics could not hold a candle to your touch, nor the fires the bible warned us against could attempt to embody your warmth. In death I would hear that drumming, and perhaps you would be the light I walk towards.
Your mood is flecked in your irises; reflecting the sky; dazzling blue, clouded gray, or dark and twinkling with stars. The gold of early morning frames your face and tumbles down your back. Your very touch is charged by thunder and storms, with the calm of the aftermath lingering in your fingerprints. Your flesh has the potential for the cyan, magenta, indigo violet and burning whites of the setting sun. Your expression changes with the wind. The heat from the warmest days settle in your cheeks, and the storm breaks that heatwave with a tiny fleck of lightning below your left eye. All that's left is the glowing warmth inside you, and the mist within scraps of lace, and a cool breeze to bring us both back to the ground.
Torn up like paper Like my skin Like obviously One side of the picture is familiar. it's broken but it's strong. It's a colouring page with the wrong colours. The whole image is just slightly to the left. But there is calm. The foundations were laid by our bare hands. But the other side of the image is libraries, and turrets, and foundations laid in another lifetime. Yesterday was so good But here we fucking are.
We could be holy. I could be blessed in your arms as sanctuary and be sanctified. My spirit cradled by your words of affirmation and love, I could glow as the final lit candle at the end of a cold viscious night. My light penetrating the darkness that surrounds me, unyielding, brave, and warm. We could be holy. Whispering prayers to any and every deity, early as the sun rises and late as it sets. Worship in every ounce of our beings. Revelling in the sins of the flesh, our energy fuses, and our atoms vibrate. Inhaling glory and purity and exhaling hymns of gratitude to whichever divine being has gifted us this bliss. We could be holy Writing requiems for each small death, with a thousand Amens to cry thankyou for the bliss of living, we sing in tongues long lost to us. Qua resurget ex favila, indeed we rise as gold and heat and fire. Dona eis requiem, and we find solace in the entwining of limbs, and the safety we both covet. We could be holy. I seek you; a source for my prayer. Recordare, quad sum causa tuae viae. We could be holy.
If we were young again, and you had been more reckless and I, less a coward. Had you held your gaze a moment longer. Had I allowed my mind to wander... If your virtues had shone more brightly, and had I been more aware of my own If we were less childish and more adult If we were less adult and more grown up If we were ready to put away childish ideals... If we were as we are now... If we were Then still we would be
With the softest whispers, and loudest cries, Through soaking silk, and satin and wet lace, Through galactic patterned finger prints And peonies woven about my face, Through losing my grip on reality, And gaining my grip on tartan cotton, Through beautiful shared treasured memories, And stolen moments that I'd forgotten Through the arch of my very bones themselves And the release of my soul within sighs Through the softest touch of lips on my cheek And my desire to get lost in your eyes. Through your quotation of the colour blue And in my truth, my body calls for you
Sometimes I look at myself, and I am proud.
I am proud of the threadlines on my body that prove I’ve been winning for a while.
I am proud of my hands, that are nimble and quick, and graceful. But strong enough to get by.
I am proud of my eyes which show people who I am. Which give away my differences, and sometimes make people think I’m beautiful.
I am proud that I have lived twice the life of someone my real age, and four times the life of someone my physical age.
I am proud to be able to ask for help
I am proud of the mind that fights for me, and the positivity I keep in darkness. Of the way I have learned, more than my years,
I begin to once again stand in the fear of resentment, reinstating my phobia of rejection. Suddenly a cricket hops up on my shoulder and whilst I feel no guilt... still I feel.
I watch things like an experiment. Like my mind savours beauty and like sleep wants me not.
Like everything is beautiful and nothing is at all.
I find I fall asleep in your strong hold but sleep restlessly, the split second between sleeping and waiting becoming hours or days, and the waking state no longer being so far from its predecessor.
as we travel I feel like I recognise home, but I am, as always concerning this topic, mistaken.
I whisper my goodbyes and pass i
Who are you and when are you. by piano-flames, literature
Literature
Who are you and when are you.
Who are you and when are you.
Looking at me with eyes I feel I may well trust. With words I could one day believe about myself, and holding me with arms I could one day lean on.
A person I feel I could potentially and platonicly love.
who are you that I've grown up with and feel I could grow old with.
That I share thoughts and dreams and voice?
Who are you that I know better than anyone else does as I become you myself knowing I know you but can never really "know" you, thus in turn never really knowing myself.
Surely an illusion. for Gold Silver never rises so perfectly as we did out of the ashes. and we are silver, not gold, I know you'd
moving forward, standing still by piano-flames, literature
Literature
moving forward, standing still
Hand me your city lights.
Smash the glasses.
Break the bottle.
You don't need to see me to dance like we used to.
To hold me like you did the first time;
the time the bed song made sense
Take me back to out innocence.
I work to hold on to people and perceptions and I worry that my rose tinted glasses and your different views may clash one day and wage war against us both.
You never really said anything. by piano-flames, literature
Literature
You never really said anything.
You stand their screaming your glorified bullshit. Holding me in arms too many times broken.
A thousand words and too many stories but you never really said anything.
I wish you’d say something. Instead of speaking in nothings and nobodies.
I can feel myself crumble in to nothing lying in your arms keeping me kept in. like a cage.
I become air and nothing more in your arms. A ghost.
The ghost of me
The ghost of you
Only now can I look back and say that you’ve made me what I am. But what I am is broken and torn and ripped and pieced back together by a few loving hands.
One little knock and I’m a child again. 7 years old, l
His world was ochre
stained by his father’s hands
and dreams of horses
trampled underfoot.
Sometimes he woke up
bruised, tendrils of words
sliding off his bedding
onto the damp floors
and his head waging
the wars of forty long years.
He thrived on chaos
old newspapers
and the sound sparks made
in the wires,
crackling as they faded
into the pavement.
And he would pray,
the vowels slipping
under his teeth and tongue
Longing to sell his soul
and taste
the pale, pale life of the moon.
The late summer night was warm, but still cool. The last few streets are the worst. The fatigue was messing with me. Also I was excited to see Kara. She was the love of my life. We have been together for five and a half years. Kara and I meet in a Diner out side of town. Cheesy as shit, but some times it happens. We really hit it off. The way her curly blond hair flowed and bobbed. She was graceful and elegant. Kara really knew how tease me too. We ended up moving in together in our third year. A nice three room apartment, close to our jobs. Everything was going great. Then surprise! 8 months ago she told me she was pregnant. We were shocked. We we're excited too. We found out Kara wasn't just pregnant, but she was carrying twins. I parked the car in the garage. Grabbed my messenger bag I'm the seat next to me . I left my clothes in the car for tomorrow,just wanted to see my love. Making it to the door, I fumbled with my keys. The mechanics clicked as I unlocked the door. I fumbled around trying not to make noise. I dropped my bag off in the office and then made my way to the bed room. Kara was asleep on her side. She was wearing PJ pants and gray sports bra. She had one hand on her belly while the other rested under her head Looked so peaceful and happy. I took off everything but my boxers. Laying in the bed next to my lover/girlfriend, I wrapped an arm around her. I began to rubber her belly. I've had a pregnancy fetish for years. This was even better though. Kara sighed and smiled as her belly began to shift. Laying her hand over mine as a kick is felt. An “oof” fallowed by a sleepy mumbled of words could be heard. “What?” I wisperd with a chuckle. Kara groand and turned onto her back. “Why did you wake them?” I kissed Kara on the cheek. “Because I love them. I wanted to say hi. Is that an issue momma?” “I was in such a nice sleep too.” Kara sighed as we rubbed her belly. The belly towers like a hill, it shifted and deformed. Kara grabbed a bottle of lotion and squirt some on her mound. “since we're all awake, can you help please?”. I kissed her on the lips. “You don't haft to ask.” I will her as I sit up and begin to rub. Kara and I talk about how my trip was. We then talked about about Kara's appointment she had that day. She also started her Maternity leave that day as well. “Nine pounds each?!” I ask surprised. Kara nods, “Yeah, we make big babies. That's why I'm so big and heavy.” Laying down next to her, “You look amazing. Your my super woman.” “Super Woman?” Kara smiles and kisses me. “Yeah.” I tell her as I kiss her back and rub her belly more. Before anything could happen we dozed off. We all happily slept and cuddled together. The warmth and feel of Kara's body was the best feeling. The smell of coffee slapped me out of my dreams. Kara wasn't in bed, so I knew I wasn't crazy. I checked the time and it was a bit past 10. Getting up I throw on some PJ pants and a basic white shirt. In the the kitchen Kara was making breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, and bacon. She had on a white sports bra with black leggings and a her favorite basic gray apron. I loved the smell of the food and coffee. What I loved more was the beautiful ripe pregnant woman dancing lighty to her music. I watched her till she noticed me. Kara smiled when she saw me. “Hey babe. Why are you being creepy?” I smile a walk up behind her. My hands glide from her nice hips to her under belly. “Maby because I wanted to watch you be amazing and adorable.” Kara moand and smiled. “It's just breakfast.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Bull shit. You made breakfast, coffee, kept up with the dishes. While carrying our babies.” Kara giggled and finished up with cooking the eggs. “It's a good morning.” I pull away nodding. I grabbed a mug and poured some coffee. “What made you want to do this?” “Well, you cuddling us got me the best night sleep. I woke up feeling great.” She said as she put the food on plates. “Go sit down, I'll surve you.” I said taking the plates. Kara started loading the last of the dishes in the dish washer. “Let me finish this at least.” Kara loaded the dish washer, and got a glass of orange juice. I pulled out her chair and helped her sit. We both enjoyed the breakfast and chatted. We laughed and listened to each other which felt nice. We finished and cleaned off the dishes. I grabbed my keys and told Kara I'm grabbing my bags. I made it a quick trip, so it's out of the way. It didn't take long to get back which was nice. Back home I called for Kara. Nothing. I headed for the room I dropped my bags off in the corner. Turning around to look in the closet I see her. Kara had taken off her clothes and walked at me. She was bitting her lip as she smiled. Her hands rubbed her belly. It's like all other thoughts left my mind. I wrapped an arm around her as we kissed. My other hand rubber her belly. The moans between us got louder. We made our way to the bed, and I sat Kara down. With a light bite on her neck I began to kiss slowly down her body. Kara squealed as I made my move. I found my self at her lovely milk-Filled breasts. I began to suck away as squeezed her thighs. Kara grasped my hair being turned on more. I could feel her muscles tighten. “Fuck that's good!” Kara growls I switched breasts as I moved my hands up her thighs. Kara pushed me away after a bit. She signaled for me to help her up. She couldn't talk but was really turned on. “We can stop.” I teased. Kara had a fire in her eyes. “Lay down. Now.” I listened with a wide grin. I took off my clothes, and played on the bed. Kara crawled on to the bed as best as her pregnant body allowed. She shifted her plump frame on to my thighs. Her belly rest on my frame. It shifted with and lumped movement. “That's right babies. Daddy's gonna help us feel good.” Kara let out hornily. “I'll do my best.” I say as I look over my beautiful wife. Kara takes one of her hands and shits her weight. Using her fingers,she guides my dick to her wet vagina. She let out a long moan as she could feel our self's touch there. I Help guide my self too. As the tip of me enters, Kara began to quiver and pant. With a final motion, I was all the way in her. Kara didn't move, but was enjoying it. “So big.” Was faintly escaping her lips. “Babe you feel so good. So amazing.” I smile and look at her face. Kara puts our hands on her belly and rubs. “I love that you knocked me up. I can't wait till you do it again.” that made me feel like I was going to explode. Kara slowly grinded her hips on me. Our moans mixed along with the movements. Picking up speed, she began to lean back. Her hands went to the bed to stabilize her. I placed my hands on her loving hips. “Fuck your good babe! So rip yet so agile!” I let out. Kara grunted and I could feel her getting tighter. She stopped moving letting and was frozen. She rolled onto the bed panting heavily. He belly heaving up and down. I got up and got to the edge of the bed. I laced my fore arms under her knees. With a single slide I pulled her to me. Kara orgasmed and grunted hard. “Holy fuck!” Kara let out. “I'm not done there baby mama.” I held her legs and slid into her. I'm gonna pump you with more. She nodded holder her belly. “Do it. Give me your load. Breed me like the slut I am!” She let out. I started thrusting as deep and as as hard as I could. Slowly picking up speed. Our passing and dive built higher. I leaned in to get more deepth and speed. “I want to be big. Make bigger daddy! Bigger!” Kara cried “Take my load. Take all my load!” I demanded With a few more hard and deep thrusts I came. That causes Kara to come harder then before. I looked over my loving wife happily. After my finished cumming, I pulled out. Kara pouted, as I lay next to her. We cuddled facing each other. “Good thing you can't put any more babies in me. I think we'd be having a litter by now.” She joked. “Maby next time.” I joked back. We kissed and smiled. We stayed like that and held hands. We looked down at her belly and relaxed. “You really are my Super woman. Soon to be super mama.” I told her.
Maestro hand me my conducting baton.
to carve away at the music I long to hear.
my friend accompany me to an ocean of calm.
and leave behind my sense of fear.
I am a born performer,
for I am too impatient for art
but patient enough to listen
as someone pours out there heart.
oh I am sick of asking forgiveness.
it's surely become second nature
and I feel bad for terrible things
and I'm completely void of future
but only for the moment surely
I was sorry I wasn't good enough
but I'll never do that again my love
you taught me better. Now I'm tough
not as strong as you my love.
one day I hope I may be strong
but I love that I f
Hi guys! My name is Fen, you might know me as Blue, Fenella, or you might not know me at all. I'm a Musician, Cosplayer, Writer and I love to draw.
I'd recommend - www.awasteofpaint.deviantart.com I love to perform (Music is quite literally what keeps me going) Cosplay is part of my job, Writing is one of my favourite things to do, where as drawing is just a "i have some spare time to draw" thing.
Please do not go in to personal analysing of my work.
I like tea, new bedsheets. matching underwear, and fully inclusive feminism.
Favourite Visual Artist
Frank Miller
Favourite Movies
The Piano, RENT, Mulan, Sin city
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
The Dresden Dolls, Amanda Palmer, The Corrs, the beautiful south
Favourite Books
Feather boy, Gravitation, Sin City,
Favourite Writers
Celia Rees, Michelle Paver, Frank Miller
Favourite Games
new super mario bros, Yoshis Island
Favourite Gaming Platform
Nintendo DS
Tools of the Trade
Alphasmart
Other Interests
Music, Art, Writing, Choreographing, Baking, performing, Sewing, Costuming, Make up design, Swimming, Androgyny.
I decided that it'd be faaaaaar better to do an A-Z or art pieces that are big in my life as opposed to things I "like"
Continually edited. pieces up soon. already designing A :)
A - Apologies
B -
C - Close ones
D - Depression
E - Effy
F - forgive and forget
G - guineapigs
H - Homophobia
I - iPod
J -
K -
L -
M - Music
N - no
O - Obsession
P -
Q - Quiet is the new loud
R - Ruby
S -
T - Trichotillomania
U -
V - Voice
W - words
X -
Y - yes
Z - Zani
HEY ALL!!!
I'm starting ideas for my tattoo.
I want a blue pair of wings (bird like,not angelic) anyone who wants their art imortalised want to help me by designing a pair?
let me know :)
<3
hello dearest(: sorry aint been on here in a while had alot of shit goin on and couldnt really get access to a laptop. anyway who youu doing?? and whats this about youu and thingy splitting up OOOO need to tell me bub. ohh im engaged now btw and i moved out my mums toooXD scribble back soonishxxxxxxxxxxx