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Literature
The Rain
He listens to the rain and how it falls.
It starts off slowly, a soft and syncopated beat against the tin roof of the little house, a haven against the dark and lonely world outside, from the sinister shadows and bittersweet moments it hides.
It has greedy fingers snatching and grabbing, made of despair and covered in the obscurity of time, trying to lure him into being a person he left behind, all too recently for his liking. It took too long to see where they were pulling him with insistent force, into the murky depths of somewhere where there wasn't anything but 'other'.
But in the little house with its tin roof and close neighbours and gratuitously oversized television in its small lounge, he feels strangely safe.
She shifts against him. His arm tightens minutely around her, and he looks up at the ceiling.
It sounds now as if the rain is trying to search out any weakness in the structure and join them inside. To escape the inky blackness of a winter's night. The gentle pitter patte
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Literature
Sparkle
He doesn't sparkle anymore. His eyes aren't bright or wide, only dull and world-weary.
He's seen it all.
More than anything she wants to make it better.
He's too thin as well, more jutting bones than he ever was before, even on tour, and it scares her when she rests her hand on his back and can feel the notches in his spine.
He hasn't painted in months.
Everything is wrong.
But sometimes he looks at her like she is the only thing keeping him going, and the look of utter need is enough to have her choking back tears.
-
"You…" He shuts his eyes and just breathes. "You are very heaven."
Her head falls on his and she combs gentle fingers through his mop of ebony hair, breathing in slowly to stop the tears that want so badly to come. "You've been spending time with Russell."
He is quiet for a few moments. "Yeah." A few more beats of silence. "I can talk to him." Her heart gets stuck in her throat, because she thought she was his person, until he continues. "I can talk to him like I tal
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Literature
Wasted
He can see her wasting away. He knows. But she's everything he needs. So he doesn't say anything.
He's never regretted anything more.
-
"Noel. I am looking you in the eye, and telling you to get help."
"What are you even talking about Ju? Everything's fine." He keeps walking down the hallway of the apartment, using it as an excuse to avoid Julian's eyes.
His friend suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, wraps a large hand firmly around his arm, just above his elbow, and spins him around, leaving no room to escape. "What I'm talking about, Noel, is that this is killing the both of you. You know I had Mike 'round my house the other day, crying? Look, we all love you, and Sky, but that's part of the reason this has. To. Stop."
Noel's eyes still dart around Julian's face, trying to avoid his earnest eyes as best he can. The worst part is that he knows it's all true. But in an astounding act of mental trickery, like something in 1984, he's managed to convince himself he doesn't. It lies
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Literature
Drunk Love
He watched them, sitting over in the corner, giggling like naughty schoolchildren, ebony heads bent together. One of her long fingered hands is wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniels. They've been sharing it throughout the night, along with various other fruity drinks he swear weren't even invented when he drank. Back in the day.
Their lanky bodies are twined together, all dark hair, shining eyes and pale skin. Her free arm is wrapped around his shoulders, holding her precarious position perched in his lap.
"What you doing, you crazy woman?" Noel's voice is full of laughter, and she throws her head back and just laughs back at him.
They share a heated, unhurried kiss. He continues watching, knowing full well that it would be the basest form of affection, they're that pissed. Wet and heat and simply wanting – needing – to be close to each other.
When they finally part, she sits and looks at Noel with adoration on her face. The pale man dips his mouth towards her e
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Literature
Broken
You broke me.
You think you might notice, after breaking someone.
I can't blame you, because I didn't say anything.
I don't know if you've chosen her. It doesn't matter really, it's the same anyway.
The point is, that you broke me.
I don't expect you to fix me.
But I just want you to notice.
It's all I ever wanted, was for you to notice.
Please just notice.
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Literature
Philosophical Ramblings - 1
I should have read this before.
I ordered it from the library, it came in, and I forgot to pick it up. Simple as that. Just forgot about it. 'Oh that guy, that funny British one who's mildly attractive…I'll read it later, sometime.' I just got busy, and forgot about him.
It's now, when I know what he went through, and the things in this book that he shares with brutal honesty, that I realise I should have read it then. I should have made time, and gone to pick it up.
This one passage…
"If that person tells you they don't think there's any point in living any more, just say, 'OK, well, I'm off now, but remember, we're going to see Shrek 2 on Wednesday (or Shrek 3 or Shrek 4). It's important to plant that idea in their heads, because later on they might be about to put a bag over their head and tie it shut with an elastic band, or run the bath full and hot so they can die like a Roman general, razor blade on the forearm. And at the exact moment when they're about to end their g
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Teased by Dark-Light-Princess Teased :icondark-light-princess:Dark-Light-Princess 0 6 _grin_ by Dark-Light-Princess _grin_ :icondark-light-princess:Dark-Light-Princess 0 4 Gagged by Dark-Light-Princess Gagged :icondark-light-princess:Dark-Light-Princess 2 2
Literature
Six Months
Six months is a long time.
In six months, I've had a birthday, made new friends, lost old ones, got a job, finished things I started, and started other things.
In six months, I lost whatever I had left of a childhood. I was never naive about the fact that people die; how could I be? But it isn't meant to be like that.
You know, probably better than anybody, that I can understand simply not wanting to be, anymore. The end. But I didn't do it, due in part to you and the fact that you knew.
Six months ago, you took it that final step. I can't believe that. Tomorrow I'll think of what we did, maybe pull out some of the things that remind me of you – not that I have many, you kept all our photos, and they took them away – and I'll be clichéd and light some candles.
None of this, though, will change that at 1.41, Perth time, it will have been six months.
He called me. Just so you know. I listened when they shut it off, and I couldn't cry. For one thing, I was in class – p
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Mature content
Christmas: A Cracky Interlude :icondark-light-princess:Dark-Light-Princess 1 0
Literature
Joke: Reprise
It's a joke.
Another stupid joke, you're both laughing, his arms around you, but it's just a joke.
You look up, wicked glint in your eyes, and you see each other.
For the first time – or that's what it feels like – you see each other.
And your heart skips a beat, because he's leaning in. Or maybe you are. It doesn't matter.
Your heart beats a tattoo in your chest as you meet him halfway. And for one blissful moment all you can feel is the gentle pressure of his surprised lips on yours, and then you pull away, looking at him underneath lashes with pink cheeks.
And the look on his face breaks you.
"I…" You start to say, to have him turn away.
"I'm going to get a drink sir."
He stands and walks away, and you are broken.
-
You lie on your back for a few seconds, staring up at the blackness of the ceiling, heartbeat returning to its normal rate.
Never. No.
You're so glad to wake up you stay like that for the rest of the morning.
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Literature
Silence
It's a silence that presses in on your eardrums, it's so thick. The occasional noise punctuates it, but only gets so far before it tapers off and dies, like it was never there. If you don't hear it start, you might not catch the finish, and maybe it didn't even happen.
She coughs, and it does the same thing; tapers off and dies, stifled. A gentle touch, feather light, in the small of her back, an unspoken question.
"Yes."
He seems hesitant for a second, as if pondering what his question really was in the first place; indeed, what her answer means.
The rustle of his crisp shirt barely makes any noise, but even if it did it wouldn't be significant in this environment.
Her head tilts forward suddenly, as if all at once it got too heavy for her neck to hold up. Thick, dark tresses of hair obscure her face, eyes that are full of all the wrong things, and thoughts that aren't welcome appearing every now and then.
Still the silence presses, stoic and heavy, surrounding the pair of them.
Feath
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Literature
Love Is...
Love is always having to say you're sorry.
It's a second, and incidental second in the eyes of the universe, but forever for you.
It's phones ringing and endless text messages.
It's simultaneously everything and nothing, an endless paradox that transcends anything else.
It's that fleeting touch that is as much as a full body embrace.
A lascivious wink here, a shy smile there.
It's quirks and whims that only one person could possibly understand.
It's that feeling of meaning so much to one person.
For me?
It's that noise you make when you're thinking.
It's the impish little smile you get when you're up to something – which makes me wonder why it isn't a permanent fixture on your face.
It's the spark that's in your eyes when you feel something.
It's the way you make me not care.
The way you see the real me, simply because you're you and not anybody else.
It's you.
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Literature
Letters I'll Never Send: 2
Alright,
I'm going to tell you something.
No, I need to tell you something. Don't freak out, okay?

Just quick yeah, like a band aid?
Here goes.

Actually, I need to say something else first. There's an order these things should happen in. Yeah?
You know, don't you, that you're one of my best friends? I mean, you're capable of being a complete and utter twat sometimes, but we all are. And with you there's no bullshit.
You're fun, and you know how to laugh, and just…it feels better, being around you. I don't have to pretend, I don't have to be interested in things that don't interest me. I can be me. I feel better, being around you.
I know I'm not somebody you'd look twice at. But we know each other better than that, don't we?
So here's the deal; I'm not a rake, I'm not blonde - for fear of turning ranga – and I don't have admirable tits. I'm not the prettiest, or the smartest, or the best. But I'm also not the ugliest, the dumbest or the worst. I don't think.
And
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Literature
Timing
All you want is a warm bed, some half decent food and a shower, and you don’t particularly care what order they come in, so long as they come. Your whole body feels like it’s covered in a layer of grime, twenty three hours on a plane taking it’s toll on your mood as well as, you’re sure, your appearance.
Actually, you won’t be surprised if people start running as soon as they see you.
It is nice though, to have your feet back on solid ground and the prospect of the aforementioned warm bed, half decent food and shower puts a tired smile on your face.
You didn’t realise you were among the first lot of people to disembark the plane, something that pleases you a little as you walk up towards the customs gate. Hopefully it means you’ll be through quickly and in a taxi on the way back to the apartment in no time at all, always preferable to having to spend hours waiting and waiting some more.
Mildly you entertain the idea of a familiar shaggy head of blonde
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Activity


deviantID

Dark-Light-Princess
kristi
Australia
I think I'll allow Russell Brand to sum this one up for me;
"It's difficult to believe in yourself because the idea of self is an artificial construction. You are, in fact, part of the glorious oneness of the universe. Everything beautiful in the world is within you. No-one really feels self-confident deep down becuase it's an artifical idea. Really, people aren't that worried about what you're doing or what you're saying, so you can drift around the world relatively anonymously: you must not feel persucted and examined. Liberate yourself from that idea that people are watching you."

Current Residence: Perth
Favourite genre of music: Anything. Don't make me choose!
Favourite photographer: Eolo Perfido
Favourite style of art: lots
Operating System: Windows
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Wallpaper of choice: Right now? Drummer boy
Skin of choice: normal
Favourite cartoon character: Pokemon
Personal Quote: Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity
Interests
  • Listening to: Lover You Should've Come Over - Jeff Buckley
  • Reading: Eva Luna
  • Watching: replaying memories
  • Playing: -
  • Eating: Gum
  • Drinking: Coke
It's been so long.

So much has happened. But a lot of it's good.

I think I'm...I don't know what I am. All fluttery and tingly. And nobody's online for me to tell. So I'm DArting. But I've got the most giant smile on my face. I don't want it to ever go. And it doesn't matter what other people think are right and wrong. Since when are things black and white?

Ramble. But still. The point is there. Maybe it makes me selfish, and maybe it's infinitely worse that I justify it, but there's too much coincidence. There's too much coincidence to ignore it.

So I won't. I'll see what happens.

Still smiling :D

Comments


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:iconroyswordsman:
royswordsman Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2013
:heart: Thank you so much for the favourites :heart:
Reply
:icondramirask:
DramiraSK Featured By Owner May 5, 2011
Oops, when I faved I collected you in the wrong folder. Hehe, putting your wonderful piece under Great Literature. :D
Reply
:iconweirdoqueen:
WeirdoQueen Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2010
thanks much for the fave!
... let's steal russell. it'll be fun, and no one'll find out, honest. >.<
Reply
:icondark-light-princess:
Dark-Light-Princess Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2010
Yes! I'm so in with this plan, we have to steal him. He wouldn't complain either, he'd love it
Reply
:iconweirdoqueen:
WeirdoQueen Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2010
he certainly would. 'twould be one of the few kidnappings in which the victim didn't feel at all victimized.
Reply
:icondark-light-princess:
Dark-Light-Princess Featured By Owner Jan 24, 2010
hehe, in fact, i think if we just proposed the idea to him, he'd link arms in the middle of us and we three would skip down the street.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconsjarman:
sjarman Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2010
thanks!! <3
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:iconblazenator:
Blazenator Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2009
Waithankyou for ze fave. ^^
Reply
:icondark-light-princess:
Dark-Light-Princess Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2009
No worries, it had to be done :D
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:iconblackrosefaery86:
blackrosefaery86 Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2009
Thanks for the Fave.
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