Monday, 24 September 2012
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
whispered in your ear by derrewyn at 21:37
Monday, 2 August 2010
Saturday, 30 January 2010
So you wake up yet another time wishing day was a nightmare. You look around in that disorientation that seems overwhelming; and stare at the face next to yours and wonder when did he become someone you don't know.
You stop again the morning urge to scream and start the ritual by forcing yourself to wake him up, picking yet another part of your soul to throw away. And as you watch it getting chewed and torn and swallowed again you wonder how did you let a black hole take over your bed
old, but it still applies XD -for Leviathan Rising-
Friday, 29 January 2010
It was the night of the Goddess, and she could feel it within her skin.
The first signs had started earlier, with restlessness and a growing rejection towards her surroundings. She wanted to be outside, way beyond the walls she knew and away from the streets that meant her home, far, far into the unknown.
Freedom was calling her like a siren.
Her heart, always so steady, found no satisfaction in her daily rituals and began to sigh in longing. Ah, she desired, that she knew, and it wasn't the things she owned nor the attention she was easily given, it wasn't anything that was at her beck and call. But how she desired it, that unspeakable thing she could not give form to!
She tried to sleep the feeling away, but it only made things worse, the dreams becoming cryptic and full of sensual imagery. She stretched her body, limbs on fire, the unsatisfaction growing unbearable. Rubbing herself against her cushion, she searched for some sort of way to mellow the burning, a release from that chocking feeling that kept her with a moan caught behind her lips.
But all she accomplished was to further the wanting, burning becoming scorching.
It was that night, she knew then, the one she could not escape, the one her mother and her older sisters had told her about, the one their grandmother and their greatgrandmother and all the women of her line, all back to the very first of them, the goddess herself, had given themselves to, a night of celebration and despair.
A night for the senses, and to run, run like the wind.
She waited for everyone in the house to fall asleep, and went out through the back door. She caught herself on the hall's mirror, and was startled by the swollen dry lips and bright stare of the young and lovely lady she had learnt to recognize as her reflection. It was her and it wasn't her all together, centuries of genetic imprints glowing over her skin.
The feeling was liberating, knowing that it wasn't her usual self the one reigning that night, that there was blood and mud as ancient as the world itself running through her veins instead, making her another, the one with the wild stare and wanting lips that had taken over.
The air outside embraced her in a hug that was hot and humid, and she sighed in satisfaction at the welcomed contact with the world, and the way her senses turned and coiled, like a snake. A small part of her still wanted to fight the feelings back, fearing that big unknown and longing for the safety of her own pretty bed in her own cool little room, but the stars were calling her name, and the night was whispering, sending shiver after shiver with each gust of summer wind.
As her eyes got used to the darkness around her, she also got used to the knowledge that that moment existed for her, that every little thing, from the air to the sky to the earth beneath her feet and the humming of the insects hidden inside the trees, were there for her, to elate her senses and drive her away from her mortal skin and back to the primeval her, if only for that night.
The fear was washed away when she noticed that, giving way to a sense of being cradled by a world that was completely her own. The heat in her body grew with her acceptance, making her skin flush. She licked her lips, and rubbed her side against the garden's cool iron door as she went out, smiling inside both at her small steps into daring and to the tingling sensations the coolness brought to her body.
It was maddening, and made her feel giddy, and happy, and light as a feather. The night was her own! the world was her own! Not a single soul was outside, all caught in their beds by the summer heat, and she was free, free to be insane and run down the streets, no more a lady but a creature that stretched from her flesh to the road and the trees and everything she could see, with invisible tendrils that sent wave after wave of pleasure to her wanting core.
Her steps were fast and certain, leaving behind her corner of the town and running right into that beckoning darkness, each time her feet touched the ground turning into an extra effort to outrun her need. The shapes around her melted, and all followed suit, her endless body caught on fire. Far, far away, she seemed to hear her own voice, screaming her desire and unsatisfaction to the wind, and even further she managed to caught the doubt of an answer, lost spirits, like her, awakening to her call.
Violence spread through the air, blood spilled on the earth finishing the spell, and she collapsed on the grass, her body tight, as a last call that seemed to come directly from her womb ripped her throat.
Silence followed, broken only by the smallest whimpering when she noticed someone that was not herself enter her world.
He was dark, like her, with eyes that burned into the night, inflamed with passion at her song. Stains of blood and the marks of raw wounds covered his skin. Here was her victor, her champion! Not her, but hers.
Their gazes met, holding for an instant that lasted forever, hers measuring him, his searching for acceptance. Approach if you dare, her eyes told him, and he did, kissing her face and licking her skin. There was no more running for her, no more active despair but passive abandon, and the urge to be finally devoured by that which had possessed her. Leaving a maddening path, his tongue found the cleft between her legs and her voice returned, pleasure turning into strength, abandon becoming demand
She opened her eyes wide when he penetrated her from behind, and enthralled, meowed to the Moon.
submission for leviathan rising's dare VIII: erotica
A thousand cities fall.
Leviathan has nightmares and the world breaks.
Alive but his end is writ
he dreams of God
Alive and kept to be put on show
his flesh is food to an uncaring brood
his God is murder
Monster he was made, monster he was called.
They will drink his blood and sink their teeth upon his chest
They will celebrate his fall
Woe and fear, the monster weeps.
Alive but already dead
the breathing corpse stirs
submission for leviathan rising's dare VI: the curse of the leviathan
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
They ate chunks of her and with bloodied faces and puzzled eyes they stared whenever she whimpered, as if her pain at their ravaging was something impossible.
Gloating, they shed crocodile tears when confronted and sent words full of bullshit to the heavens; about poor them, about their good intentions.
About how everything they had done, they had done for her.
They weren't eating her, of course! They weren't crying like babies because they were scared to death of being stopped, and then what? Loneliness and the dreaded oh my god what would they do without her flesh to fuel the fire. No,no,no.
They weren't eating her! Licking their lips and teeth clean and going for another bite.
Chorus of the Nunnery of Denial:
(it was all her fault, it was all her fault)
They had tied her to a cross and made her their Victim and Saviour, but how dare she complain? How dare she tell them to stop, when they worshiped her and showed her their love by cannibalizing her flesh?
If she loved them back, she should stay silent and let them do as they pleased.
Chorus of the Nunnery of Denial:
(stupid fucker, all proud and mighty all the time, filling them with longing and shame and...and...how dare she! the egotistical whore!)
They would eat, eat, eat and when they were done, they would burn the bones and pretend she never existed, that's what they would do.
Living with her clothes and her skin poorly wrapped around their excuse of a body.
Chorus of the Nunnery of Denial:
(hallowed be! she should be thankful, she wasn't that much of a big deal)
Praying in their guilty deathbeds, lying in their waking hours, terrorized in their sleep by dreams of rotten teeth.