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Post-Traumatic StressInvincible is what I am until something goes wrong.
I broke my leg while walking, is there anything more dumb?
They didn't call an ambulance, they only called a hearse.
You see my skin is pale, that's why they call me the dead kid.
Any excuse to bury me in a damp and wormy grave.
The surface of the Earth was fun and all,
But luckily it's an afterlife of debauchery in hell I truly crave.
Every mistake that I could make was another kick
To send this hermit deeper into his shell.
Like vines I grew 'til I no longer knew
Whether my roots still savoured ground.
What do they call it when you reminisce
About post-traumatic stress?
Meanwhile ideas line up like test tubes in a centrifuge,
Storming around my skull.
I've turned into a jail for creative thought.
Once in a while a prisoner's released, ever since I did back down
From my plan to put them all to death by guillotine.
I just couldn't decide what to do with the severed heads.
Wandering the desert of time with a hardly a thing to drink.
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More