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Posted: Tue Sep 21, 2010 8:35 pm
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Posted: Wed Sep 22, 2010 1:48 am
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Posted: Fri Sep 24, 2010 1:39 am
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Posted: Mon Oct 25, 2010 9:28 pm
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b i t t e r ✥ b r a n c h EVEN WITH A LIFE, YOU COULD NOT ATONE
It drips. A silent echo against the sky. It drips, falling from an elegant neck into the ground. It drips, the gentle life blood slips away.
There is a doe on the ground, her eyes fast loosing light. Her neck arches towards him slightly and her mouth moves as if saying something but he hears nothing but gentle pitter-pattering.
Her head hits the ground with a resolute thud, words still lingering on her snout. She lets out a hazy breath, shudders and then it's quiet. All quiet and hush and not a sound except the beating of his own heart within the walls of his ribs.
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Dry grass and naked branches on the outskirts; where the mother swamp's waters do not reach and the ground is strictly solid. The wind blows, the grasses sway and the branches clatter against each other. In this kind of colorless world, blood stains brightly. It shines against thin spidery branches where the lantern bush stands deathly dry. "They had," he thought vaguely, "bitter berries."
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Come. Home. Come. Back. Come back with me. Please!
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Somewhere along the line, he reaches the foothills of great mountains. Where the soil is rough and frozen solid. There are rocks and grass and snow and in the midst of it all, fields upon fields of chinese lanterns. The red berries, glaring obvious against the gray landscape.
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But, I can't. You don't understand; I want to see the world,
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He turns and runs as if his hooves can carry him away from her corpse when it will haunt him for lifetimes to come. He runs. He runs and then, the young buck's hoof slips through the sac and touches the earth. Soft. Moist. Earth.
your pain laced in bitter bone-white branches the seasons long past won't return to the hearth once shared, now empty so scratch your existence upon the stainless wall of sin
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