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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Odiumdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: DaleP
    ASL Info:    57/M/TX
    Elite Ratio:    6.21 - 629/553/330
    Words: 258
    Class/Type: Poetry/Love
    Total Views: 338
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1498



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsOdiumdots
    -------------------------------------------


    My muse of swamps and black valleys
    have you deserted me for ghettos and back alleys?
    I have suffered your exorcism
    and like a blood addicted mendicant
    I grieve to bleed with you once more.
    Where are you my Elvira? How I long
    for your charms, the crusted smear of
    rust that taints your tongue and makes me
    weak.
    How I crave to sleep beside your thin
    and withered form to feel the marble coldness
    of your skin.
    I need to feed from your sin.

    My muse of swamps and black valleys
    have you left me to the worms or consigned
    me to the fire. I dial 666 but you are never home.
    I am drinking chicken's blood and fornicating
    with the pigs.
    I made a bed of rocks and bones. I painted
    all the walls in shades of red.
    What more must I do to get you to my digs?

    My muse I lie mournful and alone gibbering
    in terror and wait for night to fall. I have an
    appetite for rats and it seems spiders and centipedes
    taste sweeter than truffles.
    All alone I wait my screams are muffled.

    Here I shall reside with tears in pale eyes
    my hunger
    is only to be part of your mocking nightmare.
    I shall look for your phantom form each
    moonrise.
    Mayhap tonight will bring once more
    the rapture
    of
    skeletal arms.







    Submitted on 2011-01-29 22:45:42     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Ohhhhh, love for the monster Muse. I am in a dead spell of words lately, my muse (who likes to slide into my skin and pound my fingers bruised on the keyboard) seems to have skipped town or something. I keep trying to figure out which town, but alas, I haven't gotten it write yet so I dunno.

    I especially hate when the words leave and the mental pictures come instead, because that's when I should pick up the brush, but I really hate painting I've learned. I love PAINTINGS, I just don't like attempting my own. Love watching someone else... while other people paint, I know exactly what stroke to use, what they should do... my own? uh huh, I'm Ray Charles baby.

    Anyway, the words tho... well, [censored] the words. When you give up and stop caring, when you lay down with just a few hours until you get up and you need to forget words most... that's when they come. But what a frustrating wait to get them it is... and fake-giving up doesn't work, either. :) She Always Knows The Difference...
    | Posted on 2011-02-03 00:00:00 | by Runes | [ Reply to This ]
      Muse junkie!

    "Hit me!, beat me!, slap me!" cries the masochist.

    Replies the sadist with a smile, "No... no... and no...".

    Love made smooth, slick and red. Quite a good offering, how can she resist such hungry charm? (Jealous about the pigs thing?)

    If this doesn't work out, you can turn the tables and try some applied disdain on your part. She might get into it.
    | Posted on 2011-01-30 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]


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