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| Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - Virgin Satire |
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Vel Belmont Merchant          Since: 07-18-05 Since last post: 6827 days Last activity: 6422 days |
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| My influences come from that of Dani Filth, so if you find this a bit familiar, in the writting style...then you know.
-- The stars blanket the sky like a shimmering breeze The touch of cold stone under her feet As the grave man speak, she falls into this land She lays her hand upon a concrete foundation of death Which enabled one's soul to translate the worlds in sacred text Anon...Where does she breath? Across the open air, it is the fact that all men shall seek A tortured soul lost and wonders this river of stone A concrete pillar of writting upon the blessed alone Eyes that feed upon the rivers that come to bleed Her arms wide open, as her fingers torn and bleed Come across this frail and unwanted body She buries her feelings in the dirt of despair As her angel comes to weave themselves in the air A depressing matter comes to press her there Silence is the night that takes her life A screaming widow of defeat As she pays her dues with the wanting of death She unsleeves herself to a naked plain of disease She is hunted by her former other a wicked dancer of spells She laid her hand upon her forehead of thoughts Driving the memory from her mind out to sea A coffin of black velvet, a mahogony of trees Sank in the sunset that would take there leave As soon as she was ready, the knife comes to save A broken soul under the moon as its heaven's loose their way An ethereal voice comes to speak like a haunting mass scream Creeping up from the shadows diguised as a beautiful dream She wakes herself with the thoughts of becoming dead like one But with perversions of thought that God had displeasingly done She turns...and falls away, dying slowly as she cant hold sway For there was no light left in her eye as she whored herself to the day She felt disgusted and beaten under the leaves of this golden ray Now the sun which bites at her ruby pale skin like a flame to the moth She pushes herself to her grave, her feet slipping as she drives them away Curses is the day when she breaks under way, the fallen of her grave The warm dirt under her skin now feeds off her body till she gave Carpets the grass like spiders weaveing their prey till they are stunned A cheerful scream, an ode to her dream... all is none... |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable  Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 101 days Last activity: 101 days |
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| Very interesting Vel. I like the imagery and the diction even though I myself am not familiar with Dani Filth. |
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