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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, 8 months, 13 days ago
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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, 8 months, 14 days ago
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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, 9 months, 1 day ago
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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, 9 months, 1 day ago
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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, 9 months, 1 day ago
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