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Literature Text
My vixen
the raven child
ebony slick.
She sucks on clove cigarettes,
pausing to cough out flies and carbon.
She's as ugly as she's ever been,
gilded from glue and obsidian.
Black harpy;
darkness rupturing
from raw meat.
the raven child
ebony slick.
She sucks on clove cigarettes,
pausing to cough out flies and carbon.
She's as ugly as she's ever been,
gilded from glue and obsidian.
Black harpy;
darkness rupturing
from raw meat.
Literature
Alice-Song
I don't know how to be a woman,
that soft, coddled creature, all back-lit
hair & skin that smells
so good you could hurt it
bakewell tarts
& pussies like orchids
because
I'm too black-eyed &
tired, my hair smells like
forest fires. Theseus won't write
me love letters anymore
& when I cry on the bus
it's at a child, quiet yelps
of a black-jawed vixen
eating
herself
as she listens to the Alice-song
of those flower-cunts purring,
Why do you have to make
being sad
so ugly?
because I don't understand
how to be a woman, that
the hammered envelope
of obedience
or the little girl that
sits in my stomach and swings her
Literature
Suicide or Tea?
Should I kill myself or have a cup of tea?
I decide on the latter and I'm not sure why. Probably because I can. Life is a never-ending scroll of be-goods, be-happies, be-in-controls, be-okays, be-strongs and be-appreciatives. So what's another day?
Just another day closer to death.
Still, life seems incredibly long, don't you think? So long, it's hard to see the end and nearly impossible to touch – even with a knife in my hand that could easily skewer my heart, make it squirm and still like a dying nightingale – sealing its death with a pathetic squeal of almost-song.
Life is pain and people in pain are a pain in the ass. Perhap
Literature
Of Random Thoughts and Things
Last night I thought of my first cat
when I was a child,
a jet black kitten with six toes on each paw,
and the lemon tree that grew
in the rear of my parents' backyard.
I couldn't climb that tree,
full of wicked thorns that pricked my flesh.
So why did I think of the cat and the tree
on this particular night?
They came to me in a fog which
should make me sad, after all
five years later I found my cat by the side
of the house in a pile of dried leaves.
I carried her to the back and sat vigil
under the lemon tree until she died.
It made me wonder is it always this way
with all things, to romanticize years later?
I started to plan in my
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The prompt was write about midnight, but it sorta just turned into a person.
all is well that ends well.
all is well that ends well.
© 2012 - 2024 EmaciatedandEpitaphs
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This beautiful work of art has been featured in my journal. 
Time to TravelThrough my FAVS.
Lots of great stuff I think you'd like.
My latest favorite:
My oldest Favorite:
Some of the first Literature deviations I ever favorited.
This Ghulish photograph was hanging out on page 100...
A beautiful surreal drawing from page 200
This photo from page 40 always makes me smile.
All the Literature from page 123
Awesome digital art found on page 222:
Another stellar digital art piece found on page 25:
Kick Ass Artisan Craft!
