| I am a rare and endangered species of Moony. |


MasqeradeThe distance between your nose and mine is light-years farther than from mind to mind, and even in the midst of laughter, we rhyme, but we are furiously unaligned.Masqerade
We're Romantic, we're Modernist, we're Victorian Era trash and our words are petty cash we pay to get ourselves higher.
The distance between my hand and yours is infinitely closer than from my feet to the floors, and every furtive glance just underscores that we're both a pair of unmarked doors.
We're quadrangular, we're square, we're dancing circles round the room in our masque


AubergineColor me aubergine, and take me never seriously though I am always grave. Purple, black, and white- a bruise on Scottish skin. Night shade, debatable, with no solid lines. Happy cloud, darkened femme, broadcasting in mute with foreign titles. Egg plant, but a plant with no eggs. I am curiously disinterested, furiously unconcerned- can you see? I'm looking straight at you, straight past you and you can't tell the difference, nor can you sense the distance around my reality and your fiction- they're the same. I dream in suround-sound and mixedAubergine


Things That I Am NotA doormat, a housewife, a breed mule, a trophy. An obligation, a charity case, or something to be taken lightly.Things That I Am Not
A china doll, a Barbie doll, or a porcelain doll either. I am not a piece of candy and I am not your redeemer.
I am not a waiter of telephones to ring, and I am not a lover of gaudy diamond rings. I am not a pet and I do not need taking care of, I am not the cage, or the lock, or the dove.
I am not a derelict,
and I am not an open door. I am not a juvenile,
and I am not yours.


inside your skinInside your skininside your skin
Rip your skin like tracing paper To see the ink inside What story does it write? Will it give me an insight? To the heart you hide within.
I plunge my hand under your skin Feeling moist bone on my fingertips String veins untangling my wrist Like a little noose wishing to cut off my fist To stop me from getting within.
Noises of slime as I caress your bloody muscles They feel unnatural like rubber tissue Noises of Velcro as I thrust up to your shoulder Your skin winkling, looking older So that’s what happens when you
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~Walking through the clouds on painted wings~
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[link]
"A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men!"
-Willy Wonka
I LOVE the work you do here. I'd been entranced with your deviations for a while now, and I finally decided to try this out for myself. So add me, or whatever it is that gets done here. :]
From your Brandicole.
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I won't be made useless;
I won't be idle with despair.
-Nicole-
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hand over hand over hand
is Female
is a deviant since Jun 6, 2003, 1:31 AM
has 1,507 pageviews
is located in United States
is online
Oooooooooh this is a um...................magical number............yeah so, hmmm mysterious!
Happy 1,507 page views from me <o_o>
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~shooting-people Stock
your work is absolutley wonderful, I can't wait to see more of it.
<333
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Ai! Aniron.....
...my love
I saw your avatar, very much agreed with it, and decided to check out your page. It's great!!!
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Ai! Aniron.....
...my love
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