The Sun Shines Through

Shadow

2009-02-16T18:14:00.002-08:00

Obsidian eyes haunt me in my dreams. They are eternally watchful, tracing my every move. I’m ensnared in the corner when they uproot themselves from his angled face and embed themselves in my porcelain skin. Slowly they sink, deeper and deeper, until they become a parasite in my heart, burning it black. I jolt to consciousness with a start.

He emerges in my waking hours with his black wings covered by rough, leathery, black feathers. He clouds my thoughts with his pure-sin smile as I walk through downtown. Past the music shop and photographers’ studios. Office after office. I feel the soulless black eyes x-ray my insides. I can feel their burn on the back of my neck. I touch the tender spot and turn my head to look behind myself. The shadows shift to disguise the disappearance of their artful master: The Shadow King.

I wrap my arms tightly around myself; pleading with my insides, begging them not to spill out over the cracked sidewalk. My apartment seems miles away. Quickening my pace, I shoot my eyes from side to side. The shadows are closing in on me. I smell their sweet, seductive fog as they cling to my legs.

I make the fatal mistake of glancing behind me. As my head turns, my foot slides across the ice. I don’t have time to process that I am falling before I feel something solid grab me around the waist. Everything is slow-motion as I look down to see massive arms. They turn me toward him with an inhuman grace. My head is dizzy, growing increasingly slow as I try to identify whether he is my captor or my savior. The last thing I see is dark, razored hair that parts to reveal shadowy black eyes and a wicked smile.

* * * *

I don’t know where I am when I wake up, I don’t know what I am; I just know that I’m different.

I feel immense strength coursing through my veins as I survey the tomb-like room. I clench and flex my hands, observing their majestic power. A smile escapes against my will. Something is different. My teeth are jagged, each one filed to a point. They sink into my bottom lips as I test out their potential for damage. I look back down to my hands. My nails. They’re thick. Pointed and sharp.

A shudder overcomes me; my body quakes with terror and delight. He walks into the dim light, that sinful smile consuming his face. I back into the corner of the room, knowing what will come.
His eyes crawl out of his face. They attach like leeches to my skin, sink into my heart. I can feel the tears of the saints run down my face and hear the screams of acid-covered children escape my lips as those eyes change me. I won’t plead with him. I won’t ask him to end the excruciating pain.

I cringe as I accept my fate. It’s who I am. Who I knew I would someday become.

I am his Shadow Girl.

Stolen

2009-02-16T18:14:00.001-08:00

This is who she is. Sometimes I just have to remind myself. It may seem strange for a seventeen year old to spend the majority of her time “alone” – talking to people that can’t be seen. Everybody knows she is crazy. The voices aren’t real; trees don’t breathe or have a heart beat, much less a voice box. But to her, they are very much alive and their voices are very real.
She comes and tells me the same thing every day – the trees were talking to her again. Oh? I say. What did they talk about today? And it will all be very strange. Something about the swing not being very kind, nobody remembers her and the trees look at her funny and they won’t let her leave; she has to go back. They’ve stolen the girl again. Or the swing. Something like that.
The tea is always ready for her to bring outside. She sits under the graying wood of the swing-set where the silver slide and ladder shelter her from the world. Talking to her ‘friends,’ she looks around nervously. She turns back and offers them more tea. Then a chill runs through me as the familiar creakings of rusty springs on the back fence bring me back to my world – the real world.
Everyday he comes for her.
He walks through the yard, up the porch to the back door and pulls it open. Alice, won’t you come in? he asks. Instantly she abandons her world for the sanctuary of his arms. As she looks up in his eyes the most beautiful thing happens: she smiles.
And that’s all I need. He makes her sane for two hours a day. No voices, no unknown words. The trees release her stolen youth for those two hours. All their secrets and all their sins fade away until he leaves. Then she is their captive once again.

Well

2008-11-28T09:09:00.001-08:00

I was going to post some pictures. But I got distracted. Which caused me to lose that "umph" to get it done.
So now, I don't know what to do. I could do a number of things, but i think this is all i feel motivated to do at the moment...

SHIRT PICTURES

2008-10-28T13:43:00.001-07:00

Story revised and continued... Based off of a song

2008-10-27T12:32:00.000-07:00

Your scent lingers on my skin. I'm helpless. Sitting on the edge of the bed you sing to me, your fingers brush the guitar strings. I watch. My eyes trace the guitar, your hands, your arms, your neck. They land on your lips where they linger before meeting up with your grey eyes. I wince, and find the bittersweet song slipping from my lips.
You stand up and edge closer, I curl up tighter. My body is rigid while yours moves with such fluidity that I am forced to close my eyes. I feel the heat of your body as you sit down next to me. I hear you lay the guitar down on the wooden floor, feel the bed shift as you lay down. I am consumed by you.
You have to know I saw it. The image is burned in my mind. And when I asked you where you had been, you told me your sister's, but we both know better. That pain. Oh what they say is true. So just try to ignore all the blood on the floor, it's just this heart on my sleeve that's bleeding.
And kiss her again, just to prove to me that you can. And I will sit here. And Burn in my Skin.

TSHIRT

2008-10-27T12:21:00.000-07:00

I am screen-printing and selling tshirts C:
The name of the design is "Eve" (pictured above)

Eve shirts have two options:
-Mens/Unisex American Apparel Jersey tshirts in heather grey with black design on the front
*There is one, size small "grass green" shirt with black design
(looks good on both guys and girls so I couldn't be exclusive...)
-Women's fitted shirts in white with black design on the back

Pictures will be up tomorrow after I go into the printshop and get them all done after school
All shirts cost $26 each.
Let me know if you are interested!

2008-10-26T17:16:00.000-07:00

Your scent lingers on my skin. I'm helpless. Sitting on the edge of the bed you sing to me, your fingers brush the guitar strings. I watch, my eyes tracing the guitar, your hands, your arms, your neck. They land on your lips where they linger before meeting up with your grey eyes. I smile, the bittersweet song slips from my lips.

To be continued... when im not about to pass out from sleep deprivation.

I'm not quite sure...

2008-09-28T08:15:00.001-07:00

If anybody actually reads this.
But I don't really care.

Here's a little thing i wrote about the little playset in my backyard.

Age old trees cast their shadows over the graying wood.
Winter’s chill seeps into bones.
Rusty metal chains cling to dirty blue plastic seats, a desperate last attempt to make amends. These swings once brought children such joy, but the deteriorated seats now hang limp and unused like last year’s Christmas doll discarded in July’s rain. They brush the ground. A memory forgotten.
The slide had been silver many years back, but covering it now is the brown-grey film from a decade of neglect. The adjacent ladder misses all but four of the original ten rungs, the space between them filled with the cries of children fallen victim to the splintering wood.
Up the ladder, vines swallow all that once flourished; their viral existence choking out delicate flowers. Their thorns pierce skin, needle points like syringes trickle out enchantment that makes time hold still. Lavender flowers. Asphyxiated buds. Youth inert.
These vines lose their grasp as the altitude increases, leaving only a handful that reach the platform. Many tea-parties with fairies and rendezvous with wood nymphs have left the wooden beams well worn. The scent of youth and Earl Grey still linger. The taste of sugar hangs in the air. Remnants of past festivities. Memories. Nostalgia.
Divinities have journeyed from Heaven and Hell to visit this small wooden structure, accompanied by figures of the past and their ghostly artifacts that litter the ground around the square base in a mid-winter snowfall. Eyelashes glisten with lust. Fingers itch with the bite of frost. Masters are too consumed by dreams of greatness and immortality; they neglect to pay any mind to the potential damage.
All who visit unearth the fountain of eternal youth, its springs flowing forth unlike anything of this world; ice chilling the individual who dared disturb its rest. Relief is found in the melancholy symphony of winter’s eternal residence in the wooden beams of the small swing-set with broken swings, a neglected slide, and memories that restore youth to any who seek it.

Walking in Comatose

2008-08-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

I'm well aware of what they're doing to me. And I'm tired of trying to fight it. My morbid fantasies no longer hold the same excitement they once did. Demons all around taunt me with fierce war cries, calling me to join them. The hiss of their breathing fills my ears, and I'm on the floor with my hands covering my ears, screaming. Tears stream down my face and sting unseen scars deep inside. Then a change comes over me and I'm laughing, a wicked laugh that comes from some unknown place in my soul. I've never felt like this before. So out of control. So dark, so powerful. In my submission, I've gained such strength. I have become something fierce, something so beautiful in all its harshness. The freedom I once sought so ardently I've traded for yet another imprisonment. I'll drink the syrup and swallow the 20mg, so long as the numbness continues to cover the pain.

Props to Unknown Photographers...

2008-08-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

I found these on friends' blogs and deviantart and in search of images of that dark fairytale type look. love it C:

So I'm really bored.

2008-08-27T08:10:00.001-07:00

and was looking through old-ish but not really pictures.
here's a few favorites from a summer photo adventure...

Photography

2008-08-22T10:05:00.000-07:00

Some writing

2008-08-21T20:09:00.000-07:00

the sun

warms

skin

soaks in the cancer.

i enjoy every moment of it.

flesh burns

and wind caresses

my neck

my back

my legs.

the sun gives me his smile

and the warmth of his kiss

lets me feel a hint of yours.

My Immortality

2008-08-21T19:25:00.000-07:00

Samson's sweet kiss has sealed my fate.

Great Inspiration: Emilie Simon

2008-08-21T08:50:00.000-07:00

Flirty, sweet voice. Adorable sense of fashion. Awesome music videos.

Emilie Simon is an icon.