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Friday, September 20, 2019





Out of Flesh in the Endwalk

By: prnzokoshiro

Black-and-white footage makes it feel

like unspeakable things onscreen didn't really happen

This illusion works on the softest parts of you

correcting the fact that they can't stab

but making you dull over time

You are older than your entire life and

you owe everyone in it yo...

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The Huntress by erycalime

Written by: erycalime
Submitted on: 2008/06/20
Rating: 0/5 with 2266 views

Gazing off alone on the shore,

preying on the sun and water,

forever more,

she breathes in the calming waves

that pull her into the tide.

Her eyes close,

as she becomes one with the sea.

As the ocean divides,

all of her inner doubt subsides.

For one thing in her life is true and blooming

the infected scars cease from oozing.

And she is now one,

with the sea.

Pulling herself up against the powerful surge,

She looks away in disbelief once again,

forever more looking

for a life in which she already died.

Like a mirror,

her eyes give off a reflection

One in which tells the truth,

and in this life, story, and saga,

she is the huntress.

The hunstress of truth

Princess of pain

Queen of doubt

Angel of sorrow

Her eyes tell no lies,

Her mouth never moves.

Silence is her best virtue.

Speaking is never a concept.

She embraces the harsh reality

for what it is and always will be.

One wish to fly away in hopeless desperation

that her inner being will never be held captive again

To escape the torture.

For what she is and forever will remain

the huntress.Gazing off alone on the shore,

preying on the sun and water,

forever more,

she breathes in the calming waves

that pull her into the tide.

Her eyes close,

as she becomes one with the sea.

As the ocean divides,

all of her inner doubt subsides.

For one thing in her life is true and blooming

the infected scars cease from oozing.

And she is now one,

with the sea.

Pulling herself up against the powerful surge,

She looks away in disbelief once again,

forever more looking

for a life in which she already died.

Like a mirror,

her eyes give off a reflection

One in which tells the truth,

and in this life, story, and saga,

she is the huntress.

The hunstress of truth

Princess of pain

Queen of doubt

Angel of sorrow

Her eyes tell no lies,

Her mouth never moves.

Silence is her best virtue.

Speaking is never a concept.

She embraces the harsh reality

for what it is and always will be.

One wish to fly away in hopeless desperation

that her inner being will never be held captive again

To escape the torture.

For what she is and forever will remain

the huntress.


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Tue, 24 Jun 2008 13:57:49 -040
Posted by shwagman

interesting

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