Flame licked heels, ephermeral heat
Chapped lips of the slaughter
Burned.
Burned.
Eating alive.
My simmering flesh. This desperate smile.
Sweet butcher cut me down.
Split this supple meat and roast
The carcass of my lusts.
Feast of this flame
And may you burn.
The same to tender ashes.
Unknown "Madame" Tired - 16 years, 7 months, 26 days ago

Entreat my breath upon this stage
Curtain my shelter, burn the shades
Drop the lights, Drop the lights
You know I want it dark

They say its classy darlin'
Sleeping with your lights on
Buzz-drunk on your brilliant flames,
But I want you in the dark

The line's on cue with a falling ovation
Dropping me down, and you know I like it
Spotlight stage left, give them what they want,
You know I want it dark

It's bedroom talk we're acting
It's bedroom talk we're acting
Cut. Fade to black.

It's better in the shadows baby,
I don't care to smoke, this light's such a drag
Drop the lights, Drop the lights
Take it in the night
Unknown "Madame" Tired - 16 years, 7 months, 26 days ago

Alas! My sweet angel
You still ring upon this bell?
It is here I lay my soul to waste
Yet I burst of you, eternities to tell
I fear I walk with a subtle hum
Ever-nearing a tune, my final knell
And still you persist, my love, my light
As I tumble, softly, pulling you to hell

This soft love I do not deserve
But angel I live under adoration
It's perverse, this care, this flight, sweet fancy,
Chasing your so brilliant light
Forever I'm desperate for its warmth
Drinking, an addict, this wine of you
Enraptured so long as this pale corpse breathes
Now day after day, I'm finding inside...
Its the reason that I do
Unknown "Madame" Tired - 16 years, 8 months, 14 days ago

Oh clever rogue, my dashing theif
Eat of this harlequinn heart
Torn from my breast, to bestow you the best
This jester has to offer

I'm removed this mask, the paint, the stain
I'm pleading your sweet pennance
Stripped to my core, I bow at your door
Entreating, This is all of me

This act in one, my stage firm set
Bear what I have to give
Take what you will, please feast your fill
This blood is only yours...
Unknown "Madame" Tired - 16 years, 8 months, 14 days ago

Fabrics (a bit of musing...)

It seems as of late, that I have become a connoisseur of fabrics; a topic I did not realize to be so captivating and enthralling at the single thought of its feel, or its varying consistencies. A flash of soft velvet, a soothing warmth, cautiously protecting fabrics even more precious, while the hidden sheen of satins indescribable slide effortlessly across a shaped plane, masterfully designed as though graced by an unearthly favor to mystify and enrapture its loving observers. But such infatuation does not end here, but also progresses to the finest of all materials, the fabric of such value that blood is shed in its very name. The smoothness of this pure, watered silk is in itself, incomparable, but transcends all fabrics beside. A thin, graceful cloth, capable of riddles and creases, yet capable of taught stretching without even the slightest tear. Soft. Smooth. Pale. Fine and pure is the most perfect of fabrics.
At times my thoughts stray, lost with such beauty, and raises a compulsive desire to change that which I adore, to taint, corrupt, and destroy. But how precisely would such elegance distort? I could experiment, from gentle pulls to more drastic tugs, would my fabric tear? Could I watch as it rips, separating at the seams, stringing apart at a grueling pace, piece-by-piece, thread-by-thread. Tear such fine fabrics to shreds and scrap. However, I will not wound such graced cloths out of hatred for its beauty; instead my affections drive its injury, its elegant suicide. I watch as all that is lovely fades before my eyes, for this fabric, death is a more merciful fate, destruction a kinder ending, locking it forever into memory and time, unchanged and unmarred. But I digress, I will continue along in my fantasy a while longer, savoring the biding time form here to there, from beginning to end.
I content myself instead with observations both fevered and cold, detached yet trapped within thoughts of silk, satin, and velvet, dreaming of its luxury, one too far away to ever grasp. Once I brushed a length of this silk, gently on accident, finding it cool and almost too smooth to bear, as I was overwhelmed. I was desperately compelled to explore its fine creases, to find the slightest hint of any imperfection to exploit, or revel in its lack there of; but again, I drew back, as that precious fabric slid again from my shaking hands. Again I resume my vigil of contentment, allowing myself conscious captivation of silk, of satin, and that flash of velvet. Here I find myself, enthralled and lost, desperate to possess these fabrics, if only to cherish and destroy them in a simultaneous instant of bliss. This I crave. Perfection. Bliss. Ending.


Unknown "Madame" Tired - 16 years, 8 months, 14 days ago