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Literature
Let me tell you what I think of your lips
Well,
let me tell you
what I think of your lips,
no, don't slip away again
through my fingertips,
I just wanted to say...
I know...
If water suddenly
couldn't become ice again,
if she knew
that a sequence
of her being
she can never
ever
go back to...
Believe me,
I know!
So let me tell you what I think of your lips,
I think the world of them, and,
I think of them a lot...
I am a figment
of one's imagination,
not really included
in the creation...
The truth is her,
she is the cure,
as the disease flourishes,
as she looks away...
Once upon no time,
there was nothing special,
here or anywhere,
and she was sadness,
she was linger,
she was hurt,
while falling down
the stairs of life!
Her limbs broken,
no more crawling,
just ache
and nothingness!
She gazed
at the broken ceiling
for so long,
that it became
part of her iris,
she could not close
her eyes anymore,
the skies were dry,
as land
and rye,
and as she'll lay
on the broken floor,
remembering
the song she never heard
and humming it
throug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 2 0
Literature
Disappearing act
It made me sad to see you go
and then I remembered...
...the light bulbs are burning bright,
yet light escapes
the spectral sight,
and stares
at the ceiling,
as the shadows
of tomorrow
fight,
and die,
to be born again
yesterday,
and
do it all again...
I scraped a letter on a wall
and now I am breaking it,
and packing it for you,
yet the bricks are barely holding
and the letter is too lengthy,
for the eye to see...
I think I saw you disappear
last night
in a dream I had,
and lost in the morning light,
I remember crying ink
from my fingers
on a painted keyboard
until it burned,
I pushed it behind my eye
so I could always see you
disappearing...
...as pianos shatter again
against my deaf ears,
and scar the air around me;
I am forced to push it all away,
so all that remains is you,
all quiet,
hidden beneath
the ravished hair
and burning violet eyes
that never die,
ever bathing in the
flowing red of the lips
that ever tremble...
Yet she looks not my way,
she looks away,
another day,
she is
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
The Dream
"I struggled to create the ending
and now I'm lost in the beginning!"
He walks every day,
he walks away,
he walks that way,
he keeps her at bay...
...as he looked up one evening
he saw the world still there,
leaning on his shoulders,
yet he never stopped,
the walking pace he never dropped,
locked
inside the dream of her voice,
it's all a dream!
She lived in her doll world
surrounded by deaf mold
encompassed by the old,
that never sold,
and as she told
the bold
and useless,
and the cold
lay still and careless,
blind to the dream...
The boulder thickens,
the shoulder tightens,
yet he is not there,
his reality swallowed itself
long ago,
the white of his dirty eyes
turned blue of void,
the ship has sailed
and the pirates are
dead,
the dream is sailing away
and sail he will...
The story is real
she builds it with hay
and birds that may,
with song heal the bay,
for the ship that sailed away,
where dead pirates lay,
and
the dream she'll never say,
for she knows it not...
...for this is the be
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 2 0
Literature
A second away from your heart
She lays there in nothingness,
winter comes in her eyes
and sings still the memory,
of ice,
of sigh,
of the drop,
of red...
...the ringing never stopped,
as warmth filled the room,
and brushed the face
of the faceless...
...the world inside flickers
of death,
but as it's the sudden kind,
it lingers,
forcing the images to run,
yet always undone,
never begone,
just...
...stay...
It lashes in puddles of inner sweat,
it runs around itself
and cracks all the windows it licks;
it is too warm,
it needs it,
it craves it...
...so cold her grimace,
it soothes while burning
its warmth,
the spins
and the runs,
and the lost ways around it,
the stop...
...the wording
and the pace,
the lips
and the trace,
Her gaze,
It cannot see,
yet but unsee,
cold...
As I walked
upon the streets of her voice
I have sensed
the light in her eyes
and the air caressing
her lips...
Like a dream of May she stole me
from myself
and as she was taking me
to the slaughterhouse
I heard her moan
and it was then
that I knew at
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
Amok
The crooked sleepers steal the smiles,
and leave
the bartenders in vague,
yet blistering desires...
Relapse in depths,
so squandered we crawl,
abandoned,
vile and
divine,
for still we howl,
the lingering of sects...
It shivers at touch,
yet slithers and gulps,
the bitter,
the rough,
the sour,
the wrath,
encumbered and dutch,
forever the pulps...
The sin is forlorn
without a good watch,
and such,
this batch
will latch
rematch
towards and even against
my lack
of back
on stack
attack,
devising better endings
to begin with
and cut right through the middle
of time...
I've lied our truth,
its letter carved
on deafened ears,
painted with tears
from the murdering years,
of words as you starved
only to soothe...
Naked dreams
reflected in silver knives
that sanctify as they cross
and ask for the knees
to emboss
and flee...
...stay
inside the forests
of the sting
and bathe with me
in their blood
as it drips from gods
and me...
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
How to breed a psychopath
the monster awakens,
silence beckons
and a drop
falls
into nothingness...
thoughts rape themselves to death
and bathe in each other's blood,
tasting their own sour pain and wrath,
reminiscing from a solitary god,
decrystalizing reason,
encompassing treason,
hate...
every day
a cell opens to die
and pours inside its dying wish
that's always a lie
every day
every hour
an idea struggles to live
beneath puddles of filth, into eternity
devoured it fails to give
every hour
every minute
numbers eat my sour inside
to throw me into the deepest oblivion
always returning with the tide
every minute
every second
I die
and I reincarnate into myself
to blink is always more than enough to expire
for I'll ever rebuild a self
to die
every second
the monster awaits,
caught in a drop of silence,
as nothingness
howls
forever...
the void repeats itself,
as I linger upon
a non existing image
through a frozen window,
a shadow,
a pale eye,
as everything stops...
the monster dies
and shrieking, it whispers
towa
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
Is this right?
as I sit here on the nightstand sniffing sight,
I linger,
failing to impress my fabric of regurgitating light
and slowly whisper...
...is this right?
should I stumble across all the tragedies of might
bewildering
and shallow as they're all increasingly polite
and staggered
and butchered
and stenching from the art of our last delight?
could you at least linger...
and whisper hardly...
...is this right?
would this ending be of impact and dramatic as a blight
would you...
would I...
...assume the role that given is so irrevocably tight
and with this plowing yet delivered
and the severed heads still rolling,
in linger, seething whisper...
...is this right?
dought it need more blood and gutter cast aside?
to be flowing from my eye and dimple as foresight?
...and as it splashes on the margins
in the middle, crowded
swept under the plankings
muffled, blinded,
rigged so tight to the machines,
spineless and devoured,
drowned deeply in my spleen
and mingled through puss and tears and night,
gazi
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
Because
because,
the scent of thy madness
leaves me wondering
and glaring at the nothingness
inside myself,
yelling its deaf howl,
hoping to reach it...
because,
the smile in your eyes
watches me lingering
upon it as I hold
their life in my arms
and die a little
everytime they close...
because,
of the way,
you are lost into the fray
of our entanglements,
as lips get tainted
with each other
and die,
arising behind shut eyes
with burning passion
and lust...
because,
I am the loneliest creature,
by choice,
yet I often bathe
in thoughts, that by existing,
they transform,
into your touch,
when the silence comes...
because,
I am afraid
of you,
of this,
of everything...
because,
you didn't ask...
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
Hear not
Hear not this sigh...
...as I lay plundered under
a soiled body of ashes
that never stirs the wheels,
as it will always caress the heels
and knows not of this!
Hear not this cry...
...as winds claw the skin around me
and carve a story of frozen letters,
yet the story never matters,
it's the laughter and the batter
that have always shown for ye!
Hear not this lie...
...as it creeps around mutilated ears
seeking justice for the truth it never yields,
unraveling the gold beneath the stone,
that stone that's always thrown
in mouths of dragons never known!
Hear not...
...but see with your eyes wide shut
for the many days you see me not
for the many nights I've spilled my rot
for the day when I'll be torn apart...
...and drifted on chariots of nails,
all forged through creed, yet believing nought...
...and to eternal silence when I'll be brought,
you will hear not...
...for you can see with eyes wide shut!
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
Spleen
Silence still beckons here,
yet I am deaf
and blind to its smell;
I linger on it
and steal
the glimpses of warmth
that shiver
my brain...
Incarcerated inside stills,
with reason lost and pills,
I sit
and linger,
on that breath that
I am left without
inside my crescent mind,
bereft of thought
and filled
with bitter rot,
lacking the entire plot,
and you...
Frail,
this spec of dust I lay within,
so frail and so thin,
yet reeking of your skin,
making me crawl and grin
as a madman,
maybe sadman,
embracing spleen,
yet lingering,
whispering
still
"just let me in"
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
Tomorrow
tomorrow...
...such a wonderful morrow,
carved with rage,
to starve this page
with incomprehensible sorrow
and spite
I'll ride
this tide
with hollow
yet full of pale light
and might
as I...
...might rape these shackles with your touch
tomorrow,
for today,
I linger on gathering the words from my pouch
and cling,
on bitter memories from the future
that I shall spill slight on your suture
that's not
for now it's just a cut
and yesterday
t'was just a pile of nought
so for tonight
I'll rape my thoughts,
with solemn red spots,
with swollen teeth bites,
with dying of lights...
...with your touch...
...but tomorrow,
your touch will rape my lust,
betraying all its trust,
portraying all my gasps,
squeezing all my past...
...and all shall flow,
as I shall let it go,
inside your grasp
and ask...
...am I here at last?
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
Stare into the void I must
stare into the void
I must...
..for decades and human emotions past,
for sudden lacks and bursts of lust,
for the clinging on a spec of dust,
for the rust,
at last...
...stare into the void I must!
as the cutting lasts,
the flowering of masts,
shattered by your gasps,
reasons as it stops,
killing as it drops,
as crops...
...and I as one of the props,
shiver,
as whispers round my ear at last
speak and steal my grasp,
for,
at last...
...stare into the void I must!
as the reaching of its depth
I am sure I shan't be crept,
since my emptiness has lept
leaving me a sore lad kept
in shackles...
...as I borrow leaves of grass
from my willow ending cast,
grown to paint at last,
on my forehead's mirrored crust,
truth
and sorrow for...
...stare into the void I must!
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Literature
To gander
I've gandered for so long
into different dimensions
for a different mad song,
but I only found myself
and it was insanely wrong,
bitter and hopeless,
never beautiful and strong,
so I slit its throat,
in shivering rivers to flow,
in red lighting embossed
along with the carcasses below,
leaving behind, I thought,
the noose I was meant to follow,
how wrong was I...
now I am still left with myself
as a dead pile of grief,
lingering in disbelief,
ever falling like a leaf,
to the edges of the cliff,
till the forest lays me stiff,
punctured deeply by that cliff,
tainting sore the rusty leaf,
engulfed in never ending disbelief,
where I am still left with myself.
yet as I fall
and you read these shattered lines,
I know I'll fail,
for I shall live inside your thoughts,
crawling still,
scribbled on the trenches of your brain,
for even as I fade,
you'll know you can still have me made,
to slaughter me once again
with stainless knives
painted on your eyes...
...so I shall stand inside my nothingnes
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug
:iconspider13bug:spider13bug 0 0
Lips :iconspider13bug:spider13bug 1 0 A Walk In The Forest :iconspider13bug:spider13bug 2 0
Mature content
Uneasy Reflections :iconspider13bug:spider13bug 7 2

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Activity


Well,
let me tell you
what I think of your lips,
no, don't slip away again
through my fingertips,
I just wanted to say...

I know...
If water suddenly
couldn't become ice again,
if she knew
that a sequence
of her being
she can never
ever
go back to...
Believe me,
I know!

So let me tell you what I think of your lips,
I think the world of them, and,
I think of them a lot...

I am a figment
of one's imagination,
not really included
in the creation...

The truth is her,
she is the cure,
as the disease flourishes,
as she looks away...

Once upon no time,
there was nothing special,
here or anywhere,
and she was sadness,
she was linger,
she was hurt,
while falling down
the stairs of life!
Her limbs broken,
no more crawling,
just ache
and nothingness!
She gazed
at the broken ceiling
for so long,
that it became
part of her iris,
she could not close
her eyes anymore,
the skies were dry,
as land
and rye,
and as she'll lay
on the broken floor,
remembering
the song she never heard
and humming it
through tear soaked lips,
trembling
and crooked,
never to move again...

Fate hangs bitter
in a corner,
cleaning the barrels
of a gun,
while whispering the story
in fallen gunpowder
on the floor,
and stares
with sewn eyes
into the cracks
on her lips
and paints
letters
with her mind,
letters that disappear
as soon as the sound of the gun
fills the room again
with gloom...

...but still,
Let me spill my feel,
let me share the thrill,
as words
fill
the air with silence
and eyes close,
and,
as a ghost of futures past,
let me haunt,
taunt,
and kill that misery,
but,
as I'm doing it,
take a moment
to stare,
and, with hollow,
broken fingertips,
let me tell you what I think of your lips,
for I think the world of them...
...and you!
It made me sad to see you go
and then I remembered...

...the light bulbs are burning bright,
yet light escapes
the spectral sight,
and stares
at the ceiling,
as the shadows
of tomorrow
fight,
and die,
to be born again
yesterday,
and
do it all again...

I scraped a letter on a wall
and now I am breaking it,
and packing it for you,
yet the bricks are barely holding
and the letter is too lengthy,
for the eye to see...

I think I saw you disappear
last night
in a dream I had,
and lost in the morning light,
I remember crying ink
from my fingers
on a painted keyboard
until it burned,
I pushed it behind my eye
so I could always see you
disappearing...

...as pianos shatter again
against my deaf ears,
and scar the air around me;
I am forced to push it all away,
so all that remains is you,
all quiet,
hidden beneath
the ravished hair
and burning violet eyes
that never die,
ever bathing in the
flowing red of the lips
that ever tremble...

Yet she looks not my way,
she looks away,
another day,
she is not here,
the wind,
delay,
lost time
and broken hands,
the light had long since gone away,
and as I stay
in the darkness I cast upon myself,
I am bereft,
yet still
blinded
by your disappearing act!

...what I always forgot I should
remember, and I did!
"I struggled to create the ending
and now I'm lost in the beginning!"

He walks every day,
he walks away,
he walks that way,
he keeps her at bay...

...as he looked up one evening
he saw the world still there,
leaning on his shoulders,
yet he never stopped,
the walking pace he never dropped,
locked
inside the dream of her voice,
it's all a dream!

She lived in her doll world
surrounded by deaf mold
encompassed by the old,
that never sold,
and as she told
the bold
and useless,
and the cold
lay still and careless,
blind to the dream...

The boulder thickens,
the shoulder tightens,
yet he is not there,
his reality swallowed itself
long ago,
the white of his dirty eyes
turned blue of void,
the ship has sailed
and the pirates are
dead,
the dream is sailing away
and sail he will...

The story is real
she builds it with hay
and birds that may,
with song heal the bay,
for the ship that sailed away,
where dead pirates lay,
and
the dream she'll never say,
for she knows it not...

...for this is the beginning,
as endings come by,
but the ending they'll lay
in a silver coffin,
drowned in black water...

She'll know it then,
she knows it now,
as these words are written on her lips
as bloody red as they become,
they're carved
inside her mind,
just like they leave his
and his mind leaves him,
as he turns to silver,
and carves himself
into a coffin,
to reflect
her eyes at least one time,
from afar,
empty,
in the beginning
as the ending feasts on us...

"It is said, that on sunny nights,
between the sounds of raindrops
shattering on the concrete floor,
if you listen close enough
you can still smell his longing for her..."
She lays there in nothingness,
winter comes in her eyes
and sings still the memory,
of ice,
of sigh,
of the drop,
of red...

...the ringing never stopped,
as warmth filled the room,
and brushed the face
of the faceless...

...the world inside flickers
of death,
but as it's the sudden kind,
it lingers,
forcing the images to run,
yet always undone,
never begone,
just...
...stay...

It lashes in puddles of inner sweat,
it runs around itself
and cracks all the windows it licks;
it is too warm,
it needs it,
it craves it...
...so cold her grimace,
it soothes while burning
its warmth,
the spins
and the runs,
and the lost ways around it,
the stop...

...the wording
and the pace,
the lips
and the trace,
Her gaze,
It cannot see,
yet but unsee,
cold...

As I walked
upon the streets of her voice
I have sensed
the light in her eyes
and the air caressing
her lips...
Like a dream of May she stole me
from myself
and as she was taking me
to the slaughterhouse
I heard her moan
and it was then
that I knew at last...

...that you would get this
and as you fold it into
your doll heart,
and fold it you will,
for a million three million times,
that I would have been
at last
a second away from your heart!
The crooked sleepers steal the smiles,
and leave
the bartenders in vague,
yet blistering desires...

Relapse in depths,
so squandered we crawl,
abandoned,
vile and
divine,
for still we howl,
the lingering of sects...

It shivers at touch,
yet slithers and gulps,
the bitter,
the rough,
the sour,
the wrath,
encumbered and dutch,
forever the pulps...

The sin is forlorn
without a good watch,
and such,
this batch
will latch
rematch
towards and even against
my lack
of back
on stack
attack,
devising better endings
to begin with
and cut right through the middle
of time...

I've lied our truth,
its letter carved
on deafened ears,
painted with tears
from the murdering years,
of words as you starved
only to soothe...

Naked dreams
reflected in silver knives
that sanctify as they cross
and ask for the knees
to emboss
and flee...

...stay
inside the forests
of the sting
and bathe with me
in their blood
as it drips from gods
and me...

deviantID

spider13bug
Atlach
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Germany
Current Residence: Carcosa
Favourite genres of music: Atmospheric Black Metal
Favourite style of art: Dark, Grotesque, Erotic
Skin of choice: White
Favourite cartoon character: Mr. Pickles, Tom the cat, Sterling Archer
Personal Quote: "Go and throw yourself unto a scythe!"
Interests
- submitted finally after years, and decided to go sideways from photography, ended up with poetry, so that is what will be uploaded here until further notice!
- that was it, short and perky!
  • Listening to: Folk-Celtic-Viking Metal
  • Reading: The King In Yellow by R.Chambers
  • Watching: the city from above
  • Playing: Deus Ex 2
  • Eating: more kittens?!
  • Drinking: water

Groups

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconwhitespringpro:
WhiteSpringPro Featured By Owner May 30, 2014
Thank you SO much for the:iconthxwatchplz:!!! :heart: ^w^ :iconla-plz:
Reply
:iconspider13bug:
spider13bug Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for creating such wonderful art!:)
Reply
:iconwhitespringpro:
WhiteSpringPro Featured By Owner Jun 6, 2014
Naww! You're too sweet! :heart:  >///< :iconmoesmileplz:
Reply
:iconspider13bug:
spider13bug Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
well, while that might be true, my so called sweetness pales in comparison with yours, kind lady :)
Reply
:icon99villages:
99villages Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2014  Student Interface Designer
Thanks for the watch
Reply
:iconspider13bug:
spider13bug Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the great artworks you share with us :)
Reply
:iconkarlitta:
karlitta Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2011  Hobbyist Photographer
Multzu! :nod:
Reply
Add a Comment: