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Clash of Two Worlds: Chapter TwoThey drove for an hour in the stop and go traffic of NYC that forever drove her insane. Sure, the sea had patience; it wore away at a rock until it was smooth and offered no more resistance. But she was the sea before the storm. It didn’t have patience then, it was waiting to snap and claw with vicious water. She gritted her teeth but said nothing. Sitting still, not saying anything and having her mind full of questions was not a good thing. She was ADHD, like most demi-gods.
So despite herself her leg bounced. Let them think it’s nerves, she thought, I know it’s because sitting still like this is going to drive me nuts. She didn’t know where they were going, and had resisted the urge to ask.
It was better she stay silent and answer their questions with annoyance. Let her attitude match her image. She wore worn out dark wash jeans that were ripped from use and monster claws. Her shirt was a loose band T-Shirt. She’d ripped it down both seams at her sides a
We WishWe wish,
We wish for life.
We Wish for wealth.
We wish for love.
We wish upon a star,
To make dreams come true,
To make life brighter,
We wish for health.
We wish for fame.
We wish as flip the coin into the well,
For such a small token we want grand things,
We wish for all matter of things,
Big and small,
We wish because we’d rather wish than grab our dreams,
And make them come true ourselves,
We wish for a job that we love,
We wish for happiness,
When happiness cannot be wished for,
We wish for things that cannot be granted,
We should take our lives by the hand,
And show it where we want to be,
What are dreams are,
What we wish upon that star,
Should be something we’re willing to fight for,
Yet we wish,
And dream and wish,
What do you wish?
HumansLife is precious. So very precious. Its short. It trickles like the grains of sand in an hourglass. It looks like so much, so much time, but its so very little. Its blown away in the wind, flows away in the water. Every day, every hour, is just another step towards death. Pain, both fleeting and long, only means you're alive.
Happiness, that brief, happy emotion, means you could still find the good in the world. Could still find laughter despite the creeping dark.
Love, that elusive, sticky emotion, means you’ve found where you belonged. Maybe, maybe, that you’ve found who you belonged to. Who belonged to you.
Anger, that heat in the blood, only means you could still find something to get angry about. Something you could care for.
Hatred, the opposite of love, yet could stem from love, means that you saw the dark, or saw the light. Hatred is fickle, and often a heavy burden. It burns bright, true, but often leads to the dark.
The dark. It creeps and scuttles, shoots from sh
For the Love of (Demi) GodLove is a tricky emotion. It’s sneaky. It can stay hidden for weeks, months-even years. Then, when you’re least expecting it, it leaps up and grabs you by the throat. It drags you under, and you can’t fight. Nothing can defend against love. So you sink, and you love, even when that love causes you pain. Even when the last thing you want to happen to you is to love.
That’s what happened to Nerida Roods. She loved. Not romantically, not soul mate, star-crossed lovers, not the one-and-only kind of love.
But the love the best of friends feel. The love siblings feel.
She loved her friends, her brother, desperately. It was a constant ache in the heart, a bleeding wound that could never heal, not completely. And just when she thought the scar tissue had finally covered it, had finally covered her wounded heart, she took another blow, and the blood fell anew.
Such was the case when she discovered that Nico was gay.
She didn’t have a crush on him. She had no romant
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More