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"Breathe"Dark eyes fear the unknown,
for they only know the bright and the clear.
Pale skin, as white as snow,
eagle spread on the cold stone.
Parted lips are cracked and cold,
against the touch of those unknown.
A slowing beat of the chest,
no rise, no fall, no faltering breath.
Left beside the lakeside shore,
a desperate shattering breath
has never been wanted more.
One, two, three, four.
One more set before
they check once more.
One, two, three, four.
They fear the worse,
for they sense they are no more.
Oh chest, of naked breast,
rise and fall with intake of breath.
Forced air, make way through those lips.
Slowing beat, keep up with those on your chest.
But they fear, fear that death has already planted their kiss.
Fingers numb, stiffen like steel,
Body pale, eyes wide and clear,
parted lips of cold display,
with no matching air flowing it's way.
A lost heart,
on the lakeside shore.
They make their way,
away from wanting to do more.
Cityside BeachThe rolling waves broke against my denim covered legs as I felt the weight of salt-water soaked jeans tug with each step I took. The colossal noise of those surrounding me was deafening; Children screaming, adults yelling, teens laughing, birds singing, and the never ending sound of a well tourist-attracting, populated city bustling in the background. The sun burned hot against my skin, already abused by the unrelenting attack of the summer's UV rays, and bright against my eyes, even if they were shaded and guarded by thick rimmed shadowed glasses. The sweat trickled from my uncomfortably warm scalp and down the length of my neck, only to be sucked into the white cotton button down like all the others. It was even more uncomfortable than the jeans I wore soaking in the ocean's water as the waves tumbled through and around my legs.
It was hot. Unbearably hot at this equally unbearable beach. My blood pulsed beneath the surface of my sticky moist skin as I trudged deeper into
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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