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I wonder who is the artist
creating her dreams now.
And, are they good to her?
Giving her playtime
in forests of fantasy?
Or, do they mean her ill?
Casting her in to
a desert nothingness
where even the sun
is blocked by sandy dis-ease?
Art by William Joseph Oxer
Flowers are beautiful.
Beautiful in a vase at a wake,
Beautiful gingerly placed on a grave,
Beautiful planted as a memorial.
Flowers are beautiful,
but loss remains.
I float on the rising tide.
They say it lifts all boats.
Will it lift ours again in time?
I feel its power
on my skin
between my legs
as I ride each surge,
wondering if You still feel
any within.
Art by Dmitry Kochetkov
I know You know
that Your art is a killer performance,
the darkest of dark illusions.
I know You know You left
me in a grave with
other greasepaint monsters
that dove into the unknown of You.
We didn’t know You had removed the net.
#MadVerse #MadCarnival
She was one of His vampires,
and He was Her angel of death.
No matter how many times they met,
She still left His blood boiling,
& He gave Her anxious breaths.
When midnight came, so did they;
bell tower's chimes
hiding moans & sighs.
#IntrigueVerse 248 #MadVerse #MadCarnival
It’s been a long day,
but she smiles anyway,
a proud, self-satisfied moment
where she indulges
in the pleasure she takes
when she knows she has become
their fantasy
their desire
the one with whom they want
to sin and mistake
the one to excite
their sensuality and dominant streak
She was cast away,
left adrift
in a sea of chaos.
Art by Mari Yamato