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Salvation in the Paradise of Rust

BrushstrokesInBlood

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Xuchilbara

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July 22nd, 2010

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star o doom
This entry is simply an update so that LJ doesn't think this journal is abandoned. Please reply

October 23rd, 2009

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hunger
this is beauty, red in truth and flaw.
somewhere between the roller coaster
and the still and silent lake
those colours are forgotten.


what if the word awkward was never invented, and we all just knew it as being somewhere stuck in the middle of a delayed cause and effect. if someone stepped forward and unstuck the situation, he or she would not feel awkward doing this, because there is no awkward. if the situation wasn't unstuck, then there would just be another delay in the cause and effect of delaying the cause and effect... i want things unstuck

October 9th, 2009

I go to the forest, trees reaching for the sun, thick flowers underfoot, and I am yet dissatisfied. My mind is more full of thoughts, recriminations, distrust, than there are flowers growing here. I relax against the thick moss and I am not comforted.

What happens when the world goes away? I used to drift in limbo, featureless, breathless, awaiting the world's return.

Now I sit and wait and wonder: will you ever know me?

(He does not know how long he has been waiting.)

I need to see you hear my name and think Yes. yes. yes.
Come back to me. I can give you the one thing no one else can: a hero's death. Come to me, brave and childlike. Let our fingers touch one last time. I will leave you where the waves lap the shore, let you lay there quite still as I take my leave. I will come back in time, and your tombstone will be my love letter.

(This is the lip I kiss you with, if ever I kiss you, if ever one or the other may be said to be responsible. It is my taste, my grasp, my single nerve ending. It remembers you. Anticipates you.)

September 29th, 2009

{uh oh..}

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There he is again, my new crush. I look for him now, I wonder when I don’t see him; I can’t decide how to behave when I see him, I vow that next time, I will speak to him.

His back is completely rounded and is quite stooped. His right foot points to his left foot’s arch, his leg is crooked. He takes a step forward with his left foot, pauses and pushes or slides his right foot to meet it. His progress is slow but steady. His head is tilted down and slightly to the left; his gaze is on the ground in front of him. I think when he wants to look up, he raises his eyes, not his head. It looks so awkward, it seems like it would be painful, I don’t know if I’m projecting or if it is painful.

I saw him again to-day. A girl was with him who had the taint of Valtiel all about her. They are in Alchemilla. That is where he stays! I must find out more..

{{OOC:: Giving thoughts to D'Namouh must have opened two ways. Suddenly Xulchilbara has taken interest in a certain old fling of D'Nam's as well. I wonder who it could be..;-)}}

April 24th, 2009

Beautiful Vistas

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clawed
What is the most beautiful view you've ever seen? Have you been there, or do you plan to visit? If you have one, share a picture.


There are no more sunsets. You must get used to this first, and the pain it causes is a sour thing. Do you remember stories? I remember one: a town devoured by darkness. They learned the word "monster" and promised they'd never make another one. They made up that word, "safe", because there wasn't a name for it; there was nothing that lived long enough to name it.

There in your room I almost felt safe, or at least the illusion of it. I guess that's how most mortals get along, can go about their days, that illusion. Such a frail thing between life and death, between calm and madness..

Aah, but you. You were worth hunting down, even if it meant leaving the circle of my own comfort. Seeing you made my soul try to leap out and embrace you to the point of engulfing you. It was quite disconcerting; I almost gasped aloud at it. Looking into your eyes caused a temporary inexplicable paralysis. Time stood still. The truth in them was blinding, and incandescent, and humbling, and pure. To be exposed to such perfection for even a moment was to experience a joy so very intense that I trembled with it. My body could barely contain the feeling.

Your voice, deep and slightly raspy, was soothing and invigorating all at once. It was intoxicating. You could have said anything and I would have agreed to it readily, anything to keep you talking. The timbre of that mellow tone of yours was enough to send electric currents through me. I could barely hold myself upright.

No, I will not allow myself to fall in love with you.

I do not want to feel that light headed can't stop thinking of you floaty feeling. Nope, not going to do it. You can send me as many bunches of daisies or wildflowers or even roses that you like. Have them wrapped in pretty paper and delivered to my door, not that you would, not that I'd want them, not that that's the signal either of us need to be wanton and wicked in each other's arms, if only for now, if only for a night, if only in lieu of him not being here for us instead.

I will not fall.

March 11th, 2009

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The trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

-Margaret Atwood

January 23rd, 2009

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I will wash my hands among the innocent; and will compass thy altar, O Lord: That I may hear the voice of thy praise: and tell of all thy wondrous works. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house; and the place where thy glory dwelleth. You darkness, that I come from, I love you more than all the fires that fence in the world, for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone, and then no one outside learns of you. But the darkness pulls in everything; shapes and fires, animals and myself, how easily it gathers them! -- powers and people -- and it is possible a great energy is moving near me. I have faith in nights.

October 16th, 2008

Time's almost up {again..}

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Hold your fingers this way, wayward son, and marvel at what thine hands have created.

your Mother and i were slick with sweat as we made you,

you are just like me now, and I am so so very sorry.

I know about the sky, the scratches on the floor. I know about the beauty, how there's so much of it if you really want to see it, and I also know about the dirt, the dirt that we let ourselves become, sometimes. The world will break your heart, if you let it.

I know about the negative space, the not-us, threatens to break like an eggshell, molecules already exploding audibly pop! pop! pop! The static calms, pulling itself into a question shaped like doubt, a word soft and round, but for its briar-like thorns that sting like ethanol on an open wound.The moment cracks open along its crimson fault line, I sing your name into stray pieces of bark, and slip them in the lake, trusting the water to preserve my memory of you and carry it far.

You were always mine, you see, and I belonged to your too sensitive, pale skin
before I ever kissed it, bit it, traced a poem into the loveliness of its naked, undone beauty. I knew what you would become, where you'd go. What dark noise rustled us from sleep and brought us here? O! I promise not to tell a soul, I'll sew the secrets in my throat, rather than upset you anew.

June 1st, 2008

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scratchy
Sorry for my lack of being alive recently.

..and if you were with me tonight, I'd sing to you just one more time; a song
for a heart so big, so brave.

Screaming from atop your cathedral I forsake you..

Kamlo, listen.. "man needs what's worst in him in order to achieve what's best in him"..

everything's about to change.



A few days ago I left the House of Servitude. It was a quiet separation, as I left in the night, taking nothing with me, not even my flesh. The quietness worries me, and sometimes I can trick myself into thinking that it is not forever, but truthfully I know I will never go back.

Ever since I returned from that mission hardly a word has been spoken to me. I am treated as the lowest creature within their midst and they find no affection for me anymore. I could have coped with anger, with chastisement.. but not this terrible silence. Did I mess up? Didn't I do it right?

bUt i Am wHole oNce aGaiN. iNtAct. iMmOrTaL.

complete.


I am waiting at home, with Her.I am on the sofa, doing nothing, boneless and smoking. I am in the book. I am the paintings on the walls and in the red
cellar, and embroidered onto the silk. I am in the glossy fur of the cats, and in the deep bath, and between the cool sheets, and in the light splashed on the wall. I am made of gold leaf and cinnamon and jasmine flowers, and you will choose to come home to me now.


Come to me. There is still so much we need to do.

May 27th, 2008

I always pluck my passion from the lavish orange fruit tree, all soft and covered with stretching sunlight that blossoms and unfolds across the flat, brown landscape which tips its head and stares at me keenly through my bedroom window. The sun always peaks when I can not see it, at its height in the dark blue sky, when it is littered at night with white stars. Seagulls hang frozen in flight, crooning and bleached, in the field of ice which is always draped above our minds agape and bodies entwined. I’d always seen him carrying his heart in the heat of his hand, imprudently allowing his blood to leak and stain his path, and all of the path’s intruders. Oh, faulty abandonment, there is almost nothing that I like to remember about our strange and ominous entreatment. Please erase yourself.

Because I'm a miracle in human form clearly I'm judging myself as much as others. I find you so hard to shed. I am wishing upon stars to preserve what we have. what we had.

A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus..


we're losing him


My kink toy. You're knowledge. You do not deserve me you do not deserve me
You do not

DO IT. believe.
otherwise..


Belief can create reality,

shut up about your damned paradise

and realities created can bridge the dimensions.

You are running out of time. and I? am running out of options. The beauty of the withering flower..

predestined


I understand it now. I understand why this has happened to me, this form.
Do you know what this is? Don't you get it?

The irony of it all makes me laugh. So many times the red was not my own..

are you listening now?

the words..our few precious moments. and yours. On a clear day as sad as last
time

if you tell anyone I'll kill you

I cannot answer my own question. I've changed my mind.. hasty hollow promises.
MOTHER. I'M SORRY I WAS BAD
Waste of curiosity, waste of forever. I've plumbed the depths of human experience my (MADNESS)..

preordained

There's so much more I wanted to see.. and it's imperative I see you again before it all ends.

..and the last struggles of a dying man..

Kamlo. Childe.

These are my blessings.
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