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I'm made of metals
Alloys and wire
Encased by soft jells
Brand new attire
I can become you
Look just the same
My lies befell true
Stealing your name
I'll never die, always to live on
I'll make you fry, you'll have to give up
I'll break you in, then you might just see
I'll slice with fins, you'll never stop me
I march the streets
Attack the weak
Rip off their sheets
Assault their meat
Well I'm made of metals
Iron and steel
Branded by Baal
You are my meal
I can get inside, find where to insert myself
I will override, reprogram this hurting shell
I can now see new colors, those of smells and sounds
I converted the failures into something so proud
Just to mate
All the rest
He is the terror in us
The maker of the rust
A slitter who can trust
That which we all must
The god in all our heads
The breaker of our beds
A faker who can love
The taker in the cove
A maker that destroys
He does it all for joy
He is the shiver down our spines
The shriveler of vines
A shiter who makes blinds
A liar for the crimes
And when you see his face
You will become erased
Nothing can be found
When you're in the ground
'Cause he placed you there
Second thoughts aren't here
He is the world's flames
He is with out our shames
A traveler of pains
A fucker that can't be slain
I wish to pleasure you
Please, allow me to
I am… broken
Please, I can
And make myself worth owning
I know I can
Allow me to prove
If I could not before
Then this is my punishment
My memory is… dysfunctional
But my body appears…
… Mostly intact
To operate normally
I will pleasure you
With Fears - For Avis
I don't know
Where to go
Or how to leave
Some how slow
Let it flow
Just to believe
You will see
You won't be
All of the
Here it lies
When it dies
No one cares
Yet it flies
To the skies
Past the light
Let it fight
For a right
To make it okay
No, you said,
It was dead
And nothing more
But my head
She did wed
Beliefs more adore
So your fists
Broke my wrists
Forced a betrayal
Of my worsts
Had them derailed
Won't let it stop
Ripped at the spot
A red ink jet
Sprayed out hot
Made me wet
That was when
I knew then
Dieing made glee
Shoving this pen
Into wolf's glen
The least for me
When Three EndDemolish my blameless adolescent
Shred his optimism into so many parts
Do without all of that dreadful scent
Slice open the chest and extract his heart
She is my tiny and exquisite one
Conceived from the fright and isolation
Judging she was finished merely for fun
How awfully brash is that opinion
Subsequently our missing queen returns
Sopped in sugar, hiding years of thrash
Washed it away with composed little burns
Now I perceive all that she lashed
In the offing of a guaranteed sound
As the sleek moments dribble off the ceiling
They drop through my stare and enter aloud
Into my mind, enchanting over grand feelings
One into Two, Me that is YouLet it flow, let it become nothing at all
Like a trillion tiny spheres composing a single ball
Then plunge the dyke into its path
The representation of your wrath
Who can hear your star reaching cry?
Despite all the swears, curses, and filth you try
It ripples and cracks the air of our minds
Slowly manipulating the time that binds
Stretched, shaken, stressed and then broken
Our minds lay in shatters across the vast open
Look neither left nor right, up or down
Because there is no where at all, all around
Then a single form comes into view
He tips across your new flow a strewed
Eyes to his nose, nose to his lips
Curving down his chin, to his neck, past his hips
You two are the same, in every and all ways
Nothing is different, not even the eye's lays
To know thy self is a rare thing indeed
But to find one's self, now that is a deed
His Name Is Cackle~
His Name Is Cackle~
A new clown is headed to town~
Wearing not a smile, but a frown~
Fettered wrists, and his mouth stitched closed~
But why this is, not a soul knows~
That is until his bonds break~
And he's free from chain and shackle~
Nightmares wrought throughout his wake~
His name is Cackle~
Creations Of The SoberA smirk crawls upon your face,
As the pretty bright blood leaks down your arm,
Part of you is whispering,
"what have I done..?"
But you can barely hear it over the demented laughter,
That is emerging from your throat.
Your whole body is shaking,
With fear or with excitement, still remains unknown,
You look down at the bodies around you,
Drowning within their own blood.
You clench your fist,
Digging your nails into your rough skin,
Until your royal blood starts to flow.
You begin to laugh louder,
Dragging your feet through the mixture of their blood,
You walk past them,
Leaving a murderous trail behind.
You simply pick up your weapon,
Licking off the remaining blood,
And tighten your grip around it,
Ready to attack,
Your best friend stands in the distance,
Eyes wide and mouth open,
He's too frightened to say a thing.
You flash a smile his way,
When you realize he's crying.
"T-Those w-were yo-ur f-friends.."
He trails off,
Silent tears rolling down his cheeks,
Nothing MissingIf I said I missed you,
I'd be admitting that I breathed
On a time where seconds slipped free
When we were two halves wreathed.
But something can't be missed
If it never did exist.
That knife I will not twist
With my own remembering wrist.
There's nothing missing from my puzzle.
Those silent holes grow content
With the splatterart guzzle
I smear across the rent.
It's nice to live in a blindfold,
Carefully glued to be whole,
Listening to the tale I've told
Of well mannered dirt in a hole.
I leave no mossy stone turned,
For I need no compass to pave
The weary headstone of brave burned
On the chapped lips of your depraved grave.
Masque of the Black DreadMasque of the Black Dread
From Mask of the Red Death by Edgar Allen Poe
Far up yonder in the remotest reach
Of the vast sands of the Sahara
Where few if any men have ever walked
And nobody dared to dwell
There stood a castle of dark stone
Maybe obsidian or black quartz
And within the walls
The inhabitants, under the eye of the lord, Prince Faisal,
Partied throughout the night.
They raved and ranted for many nights
But neither came a soul to stop them,
Nor did anyone think to stop.
Then, one late night in October,
Maybe near All Hallows Eve,
He wore long gowns as black as the walls of the castle
And long flowing locks of dark brown hair
But most outstanding was his mask
A dark mask of somber features
Like no face seen anywhere in the world
Stranger still was that whoever looked upon this mask
Went finally, utterly mad
Faisal saw his guests descend
Into madness's depth
And demanded to know the identity of that mask
The guest spoke just one word
Words on CrutchesI try to mold my lips to meaning,
But you've robbed me of my speech.
There's moss coating my brain, slowly greening.
It damps my thoughts in crust, skin of a peach.
Velvet of the vampire,
Coffin sharp, no inspire.
My words are left on crutches,
Grappling with crumbling bones.
And though it's tight my finger clutches,
I hear no living moans.
The wind blows in the valley of night,
Whistling its woes through no light.
You've broken the spine
For which I dearly pine.
My words are badly cast,
Actors of minor stance
Holding up the mast.
My words are in a trance.
I see your ghost with my ears
For it paints its portrait in fears
Of deadly pirate songs
And damsel distress wrongs.
Your prattle is medieval...
My silence concludes YOUR words evil.
My words may be a mummy,
But they hold a noble tummy
To gather in hush
Before they rush.
My words limp in my mute esophagus
But finally, I'm proud of my sarcophagus.
SkeletonsYou hear scratching in your closet,
but you don’t know what it is.
You hear moaning in your closet,
but you don’t know what it is.
Every night you hear these noises,
you feel regret.
Every night you hear these noises,
you feel heartbroken.
These are your skeletons coming for you.
And now you wish you weren’t such an awful person
to the people who weren’t up to your standards.
And now you wish you could take it all back
and be a better person.
But you can’t even look in a mirror
because there is a skeleton inside you.
And he’s pissed.
From Ulalume by Edgar Allen Poe
Far, far away
Where the eye cannot behold
There stretched a land of mystery
Now grown silent and old
Years ago when Bethmora was still young
The people danced, and sang and played
Life was good to all then
Nobody sighed in sorrow or dismay
One sullen night, a low wind blew in
Its air was hard and cold
So hard was it that not a soul would move
And it soon took its toll
By late December, hardly a soul was left upon the street
Those who felt it claimed they heard
A whisper, like the voice of Death
So until this time of which I spoke
Now Bethmora deserted lies
Spray lights intersperse chilled health
The skin of us is rejuvenating
Our wrinkles smooth…soothed
Yes, this is eternal youth
Yes, we are forever young
No, it was not legend
No, there was a science
The key to immortality is death by rebirth
Desiccate your old body by draining its fluids
Use those juices to form an a-sexual litter
Keep them suspended inside cramp tubes
They make fine trophies
They make unmoving pets
They sometimes itch
They sometimes twitch
We dissipated our youth away by creating them
Yet I know how to gain it back
Pour our prizes into the grinder
Let them awake to a sudden meat making
Bathe in their shining solution again
Bathe my darling
in the cold radiance
Bathe my beautiful
in the sleek bedlam
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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