My Darling PoisonessYou drift and dance on the winds,My Darling Poisoness by MeteorSage
delicately wrapped in your honeyed tones.
And I, your unsuspecting prey,
wait for you by the same beacon every day.
My thoughts are filled with your bouncing form,
and my sighing words are like nectar and they bring you running.
Through the distance,
through the winds,
Your embrace is as vital to me as water is to seeds:
Without the warmth of your heart beating against mine,
my sighs would fall and turn to dust.
With every caress,
you numb my skin with a flutter of desire.
With every kiss,
you mix your venom with my blood.
And I go back for more, more, more.
Until my heart beats heavy,
under the amber viscosity of your coveted toxin.
My darling, my poisoness.
*** You have joined #InspirationCentral *<MeteorSage> The man stepped brazenly into the room, as a conqueror enters an abandoned palace- betraying the fact that he was a total stranger to these realms.*** You have joined #InspirationCentral * by MeteorSage
<MeteorSage> "Hello?" He called out, making sure to make his voice sound more like a greeting and less liek a querey
<MeteorSage> As he strode through the halls of porcelain tile on porcelain pillars and porcelain mosaics on the vast, domed ceiling above, he felt a sort of echo
<MeteorSage> No, a lack of echo.
<MeteorSage> The kind of imaginary disturbance in the air made only when one was certain that they weren't alone.
<MeteorSage> Wary, he made his way to the throne room, and presently say on the steps leading up to the solitary porcelain throne laced with gold; it looked as if some craftsperson had forgotten that ceramic and metal were quite unlike ribbon and hair
I Love YouI love youI Love You by MeteorSage
And I'm afraid to admit it
I love you
Though I fight against the idea
I love you though it would take a miracle for us to see each other again
I love you
Though you traded me in for a "maybe" and a "Just for now"
I don't recall to grieve or guilt but to prove:
I love you, and love doesn't die.
Scientist LoveHow Scientists Hold Hands:Scientist Love by MeteorSage
We walk side by side in step with each other, our hands might be touching, they might not.
But when we do touch, it's subtle and certain, like a breeze that rustles roses and slips their pollen away, away, to some eager stigma.
When we kiss:
We look into each other's eyes, then let the darkness fall over us as our lips lock like valence electrons in a flowing lewis diagram- What's yours is mine and mine is yours.
And our passions are like the timid mushrooms that grow out from under peat- unnoticed until mature, and running far deeper than what's seen.
And when we make love:
Our bodies tightly tangled in the endless bubble of our embrace, infinitely dense and infinitely hot.
Space rushes out beyond our grasp, every childhood wish and make-out fantasy reduced to a mote of dust and battling on a quantum level- fighting to become a reality.
But an instant later: the die is cast.
Our chests expand as we pant ourselves cool still holding each othe
sci-fi stories about the end of the world1.sci-fi stories about the end of the world by ProtoRepublic
the species invents prophecies
all of which contain terrors
a beleaguered sun collapses into itself
It's not yet night when the committee interrupts the regularly scheduled programming
and describes the inertia as unforgivable.
Outside the grief, the cardboard:
Every time you teach a computer about distance
the terrorists win.
In every scenario: No colorado left,
and survivors leave messages
for the future.
Before the last people on Earth forgot how to speak,
he thought of that day.
The committee was right
to describe space as an absence.
The more artistic
of the species' prophecies include fields
such as here and there
relative to the everywhere of the other thing.
The other thing is often the cause
of whatever terror has been imagined.
The terror, of course, being another word for nothingness.
someone is remembering the pacific-
a maniac fires his rifle into a crowd
later, the news interviews a woman,
"All i remember are balloons"
they say this is w
I'm a male college student, spiritual, skeptical and hopelessly romantic.|
I like to write, short stories mostly. In my works I try to take the reader through some sort of mental or emotional journey I've been on. My favorite feeling is the combination of sadness and bliss.
Unfortunately, I wound up getting locked out of my old deviant art, so I'm making like the Library of Alexandria and starting from scratch :I