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ParasiticThis feeling... It teases.
An acute stinging, almost:
Like a heavy boot to my chest, it leans weight onto my ribs and all can muster is a scream.
I swear and pray for it to end, for all of its force to puncture flesh and ends our tortuous existence.
But it doesn't.
It's more a part of me than anything else. Creeping in like a silent predator, waiting for its victims attention to be focused to what it thinks matters, and then to strike.
Yet... Not lethal.
Enough to draw blood, but not to kill.
The hunt is long over, yet, it still clings to me.
Much like a shadow, following every step I take and lingering in the thoughts I have.
A parasite, if anything.
Feeding on what's left of me, with no regard to the suffering I am dealt to fuel it's existence.
To cut this feeling would be to sever my very existence.
For this feeling has me strangled and bound, tightening as the years progress.
It whispers little glimpses of hope in my ear as I am constrained.
The kind that
Atomic OrdealTheir faces will be jerked from the screens, nuclear shock tearing flesh from bone,
atoms splitting and imploding until every unit of mass is pound into dust.
What will the data matter now?
For what it was worth; prediction was futile.
As it is written, as it was done.
Humanity wasn't created only to be doomed. Humanity created itself for the path of destruction.
What more have we done to evade our pitfall? Regret?
We spilled blood tearing at each other so much that we hardly noticed the ground tearing apart from underneath our feet.
We live today, only to continue to die tomorrow. There is nothing but a conclusion.
No man will rise to save us.
Our fate is sealed.
Unstable BondWe are a circuit:
Two charges bonded,
Grounded by reality.
Powered by love.
But if a node breaks:
The connection is snapped,
The circuit is broken.
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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