FixationThat night I sat and watched the moon And gazed into the fire And listened to the mournful tune Played on the Muse's lyre. The water was a shining light That rippled in the breeze, And the chorus came to me that night From 'cross the sparkling seas. Across the bay the hearth lights shone- A twinkling distant blaze. I sat upon the cliffs, alone,Fixation
Thinking of what you'd say. Yet while all this world around me gleamed, T'was your earthy bed that held my dreams.
AbsenceThe cold showers of April Were chased by flowers of May. I saw a week that brought me,Absence
Then carried you away.
Then came that numbing sickness, And how it filled my mind! I started then to wonder If I'd ever been kind.
And of love I wondered, And now I wonder still... "I doubt I ever have been, I doubt I ever will."
Much overcharged I was with fear, Much overcharged with rage. And so I was left lacking- No feelings, words nor age.
So I survey the fragments, I salvage and I keep. Meanwhile they try to comfort
Look Up...cemetery skiesAngels are losingcemetery skies
sleep over you, dear, And there’s a reason for everything.
They saw you sitting on a decrepit wooden fence In the cemetery on a cloudy day, Just waiting for the next storm to break.
I remember when you told me you wished You could find a ghost to talk to, you so desperately wanted to know How to live and how to not live anymore.
The way you fall asleep with tears on your lashes at three a.m. Looks like you think you’re the only hopeless romantic who ever lived What a lie, you’re only the most beautiful.
The gho
The Thing About ClichesI. If this were a cliché,The Thing About Cliches
A poem, or both It would be about sparkling midnight skies and heartbeats and flowers and sex.
There would be oceanic eyes and rain that tastes like tears. We’ll throw in anxiety-riddled murmurs and metaphorical bullets and allusions to sharp objects for pity.
This is not a cliché anymore.
So instead I wrote about the flavor of emerald and the fragrance of April hope. I painted pictures of a perfect pencil, poised over a blank page.
II. If this were a romance, A message in a bottle, or both It would still be clich&
First ever blog *excitement*
Content
and yay for swansea!
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deviant: procrastinator
photographer and writer, amongst other things
i gave up long ago. painted love with crimson flow. ran out of blood and hope. so i paint you no more
But hell, I was bored, and I suppose I can handle a little more mediocrity.
Oh, and I'm still willing to sit for you, if I can practise hair and makeup effects on you afterwards!
Lizzie x
You'll sit for me? Excellent! You can practise hair effects on me all you want! (I'll need help with what I'm doing for Be/Neath...I'm a bit hopeless
Make-up you need to be careful with on account of my weird skin, but what the hell eh?
xxx
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All the world's a stage....but the play is badly cast.
I don't know what makeup Whytney wants for Be/neath, but I' happy to help. I think she mentioned something about you having greens and browns... maybe camoflage? Anyway, let me know. Do you have my email? Send me a facebook message and I'll give you it.
xxx
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Computer Reviews
My Gallery
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"Something something something Dark Side. Something something something COMPLETE."
xx
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When I find that litte blue box, I'm off...
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