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He watched, from the balcony of the tower, the sad numbers of wretches being led to the back buildings. Pitiful were they so easily given an escape. Behind the glasses that rested low upon the bridge of his nose, his scrutinizing eyes watched each and every one of those /things/ walk onwards. Oh, how he wished that he could do more about these parasites, they needed to be eliminated, but some of them could still prove useful to him before they were disposed of. Sometimes pure luck did not choose wisely among these insects. As he looked on, he could see some of the ones that had been trouble makers, ones that he had dealt with himself.
The tall one right there or
That man or
The one that had the scar on his cheek or
Those two over there.
How he hated them. He hated each and every one of them. Heathens and villains they all were. They deserved to die. H
People don't seem to understand how I think. Yes, indeed, I am focused and what I say may hurt, let alone can do terrible things in the short term, but they do not seem to understand that I think in the long expanses of time. They do not seem to realize that I am not an elitist. I do not speak down from a place of greatness and as a saint but rather up. Up from the place of a sinner who has gone through this before and is trying to protect others.
Love is not simple, nor is it beautiful.
If you believe in that definition you are a simpleton.
If you want love and not infatuation you might as well have to kill yourself to get it. These children expect all roses and daisies laid at their feet when they fall head over heels for someone. They don't seem to realize that love is like a ball and chain. It attaches itself to you and you can't ignore it. Its like a parasite, it saps your will to exist and infiltrates into your system like a potent concoction.
And then there was fire.
Fire bled from him; fell from his eyes, slid from his mouth.
It dripped from his very pores.
The force of the blast threw him easily and drove him into the ground. He felt as though his bones had suddenly become shards of glass for is teemed as though everything had been jolted from its place within him and the razor edges were driven into his skin. He tried to shout, but nothing came out, only closing his eyes and plunged into blackness. Six minutes until irreparable damage.
He was falling, the pull of gravity centered just below his shoulder blades, a slight pull dragging him ever deeper into the bottomless abyss that had opened up beneath him. There seemed to be a sudden heaviness that had placed itself upon his chest; a slight tightness that spread itself across his front originating in the cracks of his deformed sternum. It slowly seeped its fingers into his lungs
If there was one thing that went thought his mind at the time of his dying, it was the fact that it was too cold. Too cold for anything other than huddling close to his comrades, trying to equally divide what warmth the weather did not steal between them. No coal, no gas, nothing that could be used to start a fire. They were starving and cold, begging for some salvation to be given to them. Some cried at night, he had been one of them. His commanding officer was supposed to be hanged, but that come how went awry and the once jovial, larger than life personality was taken away to a different camp. This put another in charge. This new appointee slowly succumbed to sickness leaving the head officer position to his friend. However, his friend was in no condition to take over having lost someone so close to him.
Spannagel wept silently at night so as not to disturb th
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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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