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Beautiful RuinAs I live and breath your darkness,
I am haunted by your dark desires,
Blinded by your detestation,
I am your most beautiful ruin.
In this beautiful ruin,
I will continue to exist,
Forever lamenting the loss
of my sweet innocence.
And in the sorrow that I miss,
I will not rest in this fading light,
Finding the strength to save me,
I will never rest until I set it right.
The chains that haunt me forever binding,
So fragile in the ruins of a haunted passing,
All alone in the dark with no one to guide me,
Wishing to turn back the pages of this haunting tale.
Yet against all odds,
I will turn this into a fairy tale ending.
Frozen in TimeHer hopes and dreams are frozen in time
Trapping the sadness that clouds her mind
The trust she had is no more
She longs for what did go before
Frozen tears shatter on dreary floors.
Memories into a million pieces.
They melt and are no more,
leaves a stain, a mark of pain
and still the frozen tears fall.
A Thousand Paper CranesAs I lay down to rest,
my wishes of hope take flight on the
wings of a thousand paper cranes
I’ll live now forever more.
The Sacrifice of Young Hearts - Part 1 Luciana threw open her big blue eyes in the grip of a cold chill that ran down her back. The cave, where she had found a makeshift shelter for the warm and cloudless night, was silent and dark. The thin sliver of moon high in the sky could enlighten only the entrance of the cavity, unable to penetrate the deep darkness where Luciana was hiding.
The little girl hugged her knees to her chest, looking suspiciously at the landscape just outside the cave. Everything seemed quiet. Among the trees was rustling a slight breeze was mingling with the singing of some night birds. Luciana, however, was anything but quiet. An uncomfortable feeling of imminent danger had awakened her and was becoming stronger and more intrusive second by second. The little girl held her breath and tried to sharpen her senses to hear any suspicious noises.
Besides the sounds of nature, she couldn't notice any others. But hardly the little girl was wrong. Her insti
When Worlds Collide - Chapter 1 - Arrival
A strong wind blew in from the north. The Black Torrent shivered and pulled his cape around himself. For a late May evening, it was unseasonably cold. The change of weather had come on quite suddenly and it almost seemed there was something more in the air than a mere chill. Breaking into a run, he hoped the movement would warm him. He darted to the edge of the building and leapt over to the next rooftop. As his feet hit the slate, a buzzing came from his belt. He pulled out the small communicator, recognizing the code for Officer Derek Blake. He switched on the device.
"Hey, we were wondering if you could come down to Fifth and Clark. We have a kid here and we're not sure what to do with her."
Glancing at his watch, he grimaced. It was nearly 2 a.m. "I'm not covering that area tonight," he said, even though he was already heading to the location.
"I know. But...well, you'll see when you get here."
It took Torrent twenty minutes to m
The Sacrifice of Young Hearts - Part 5 After the events of the night before Luciana felt exhausted and had slept the entire day, only to wake up that evening, finding herself safe laying next to Aralyn on the old bed. She yawned and pulled the blankets off of her, moving over to the window and glancing through the cracks of the wooden planks that covered them. She smiled lightly to herself before glancing back towards Aralyn, going back and shaking her to awaken her.
"We're still safe, Aralyn." Luciana murmured, smiling as Aralyn returned an unsure smile back towards her. She sighed lightly, "I sure am hungry though. I suppose it is time to hunt again. Perhaps we can find food for you as well." She smiled back towards Aralyn and got back up of the bed.
Both Aralyn and Luciana made their way outside and moved towards the shoreline of the nearby lake not far from the farmhouse. Luciana stood there watching the moon and stars' reflection against the dark waters within the l
the art of leavingtimes like this, i am convinced that we were just faking it,
how we traded dreams and comfortable anatomy
for secrets and messy closets.
it is nothing less than an unmistakable truth
that our coils are curled around each other
like infantile fingers:
all passion for passing time, no direction or destination.
we were consumed by our desire for warmth,
by our shared ability to extract smiles and steady breathing.
we taught each other the art of leaving
and because of this,
my name jitters caffeinated on your tongue.
i am combing through my bed sheets
in hopes of finding the salt i shed
to decorate my wounds with stings.
the process of healing is one i am continuously beckoned into perfecting.
i have already tricked myself into believing i do not need you;
i have already forgotten the shape of your face.
Dream NightDream Night
We drift into another realm
The world of dreams
In which all things are possible
We dream of the stars and the universe
And of the one we love
We float on the clouds
And view the world below
There are castles and mountains
And snow covered peaks
It is a world of beauty
We sit under a tree
And watch the world go by
Then we are submerged in water
The woods and the water merge into one
We are all surrealists in our dreams
We emerge from beneath the water
And take the hand of our beloved
And as we are about to kiss
We awake from our beautiful dream
Darkly seduced.Darkly seduced with the pleasure of pain
Sinful acts, my good side now slain
Tempting evil wonders with a burning desire
Willing to be consumed by this dark erotic fire
The light has now left me so empty and alone
Dark rises to power and takes its wanted throne
Blood mixed with drops of a sexual love
Fits my soul like nothing from above
Hot wild passion from deep within
Take control and I want it to win
Nothing needed now but to just embrace
This truly evil feeling as I hide my face
When the deed is done my power holds your soul
To do as I want no matter how foul
Opening up your darkest fears
Turning them to blood soaked tears.
Regardless of What Fairy Tales SayLove is not always a bed of roses, regardless of what fairy tales say.
Or so I said to myself, as I stand on the shore.
Behind me, you, in front of me, me, bleak, rising above
-- You ignored me when I smiled
And so it seems as I step here, and look out to the beach shore
I see those parts of me rising, the parts of which, you took
Why did you not see me, as who I was, instead, leaving me cry alone, shaken, by the grass side
-- It took courage to tell you
It seems so long ago that we met, but it was not of my doing
You smiled and cared, seeming nice in your shirt
But all you did was walk away, walk away from the shore
No longer rainy days.
-- I did not get introduced to your friends
And so, as you made your decision, which made me leave
-- What fairy tales do I believe now, as I hope for your happiness.
DespiertameEn el lecho de mi cama
por debajo de la tela
el aliento de tu boca
tu perfume aún lo exhalo
esnifando cada gota derramada.
En un suspiro de tiempo
las cortinas de los ojos
Las palomas de tus manos
Surcan la cumbres,
tocan con sus alas
los picos rosados
de mi piel nevada.
Y los besos de tu labios
el valle de mis caderas,
las siembran de anhelo...
de ansias enajenadas.
La humedad de mi deseo
Como sombras de la noche
nos movemos en las sábanas,
arrugando ,deshelando nuestra cama...
Si algún día vuelves,despiertame...
porque me dormí..,
soñaba que aún estabas.
Ni una sola palabra mas.Ni una sola palabra más,
detén tu reloj en el tiempo,
e imagina un mundo
un mundo solo para dos,
tu y yo.
Imagíname entre tus brazos
pegada a ti,ser con ser.
Imagina tus labios,
bebiendo de mí.
Yo,te imaginare entre mis piernas,
saciándome de ti.
Imagina, solo unos segundos,
toda una vida empapado en mi.
Ni una sola palabra más...
solo tus cinco sentidos.
La vista para contemplarme,
El gusto para saborearme,
y romperme por dentro de placer.
El tacto para acariciarme,
hasta lo más profundo de mi ser.
El oído para escucharme
y pedirte..otra vez.
El olfato para quedarte,
del olor a MI.
From Dust to DreamsLocked in a world of darkness,
My dreams are my only escape.
Sometimes I fear sleeping
But when I do, I dream of stars
Dreams can set one free
Locked in a desolate world
Hidden away from the light
Seeking the joy of freedom
My dreams are the true key
As I sleep, they are bright and vivid
Prayers that guide
Wishes that give hope
Shining as luminous stars
They are treasures to be cherished
Precious, no longer tears and dust.
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
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