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The Path ChosenSomewhere along the fault line
of dying and telling the truth
the soul becomes a fragile thing
a spiritual aberration
plagued with faulty ethical constructs
massaged with razorblades
and given a kerosene bubble bath
and yet to survive the worst
only makes the audience laugh
as they slit wrists communally
and hang themselves in rebuttal
enveloped in denial is better than this
the path stinks of rage and remorse
but it is chosen
chosen in the midst of the audience
as they make their half-hearted attempts
to smear me with their last red pint
as if it were Ash Wednesday
I stood by her
the effort in vain
like a blind infant practicing origami in a mound of fiberglass
paper cuts and painful cotton candy dulled by a sense of failure
peeling away the fabrications from my skull
left crumpled in a fetal position
but I did not die
and now I know the truth.
Too hot for meBeautiful halos of you
Beating down within the sun's rays
Burning my conscience
And crippling my wittiness
But your too close to touch
Out of my league
Out of this universe
An oasis idolized by the thirsty
Yet never obtained
Soft excuses and artificial alibis
Have me doing fake seizures in the sand
While the camels mock me
Tounging and fornicating by the water's edge
With a dehydrated heart
And no blood left to bleed
I'll wait till nightfall
And then go back from where I came.
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More