Gothic Paradise

Okay, so I admit to browsing Dev's MySpace page, and marveling at how pretty she is when she's all dolled up with her make-up. And I admit, I love putting on lipstick and eyeliner. And I ADMIT, I'm the one that suggested that she and I talk on Skype and use Webcam while we toy with a few products...

...but who would have thought this with be the result??











...okay, and I also admit, that I did deliberately do the eye-stare-thing like Ren. I am fully guilty of that charge.





On three: everyone say, "Satan"!

Amy and I!

I met Amy Steinberg for the second time! How lucky am I?!!



Very, very lucky. That's how.

Woe for Woe (Another-nother poem! Gasp!)

Another depressing poem! I guess dark subjects inspire me to write about them. No, I'm not emo... maybe I'll just become the next Tim Burton. :P

This story was, again, about our WoW characters, at Dev's request. It was when Celiia betrayed Destiny, and killed her... I changed it a bit, though, to make it more dramatic. Enjoy!


Woe for Woe

I sit here with a sinking feeling in my chest,
In my head, I shall all but rest
Brain dizzying from rapid breath,
Who would have thought this would be my death...?

Visions and memories, they were all lies,
False joy and happiness, why oh why?
Good times, good games, good drinking parties as well,
I remember when we were on the roof, and we both fell!

We gathered ourselves up, bruises on our arms,
"It is fine," you said, "we have hardly any harm!"
A mischievous grin twitched at the side of my mouth,
I yelled, "I bet I can beat you to the cabin to the south!"

We ran and ran until our hearts pounded with pain,
The clouds grew dark, so we danced in the rain!
Slippery grass and mud between our toes,
We need not the sun to chase away our woes!

We had each other, and that's all that I saw fit,
Now I lay gagging on the ground, taking your every hit
We were sisters, and the best of friends, too!!
What has become of this... who the hell are you?!

Sadness debating with a persistent, stirring fear,
Not even a glimpse of remorse, or "sorry" did I hear
My rage was winning over, perfect for the time,
Doubt was a quiet nagging voice; no louder than a single chime

Red blood darkened and poured from where you plunged,
My clothes soaked it up like a sick, thirsty sponge
I gripped the sword in me, and pulled you near,
I whispered soothingly and close, so only you could hear:

"I will not die by your hand,
"For it's not the way I must go.
"But you will feel my vengeance...
"...and I will pity you; woe for woe."

My voice rang in your ears as I gripped your neck tight,
It wasn't hard for me to put up with your small, futile fight
I forced you to your back as your face turned blue,
It would soon be over... and I'd be joining you

But not by your hand, for I did not jest,
I'll throw myself away like you-- like an insolent pest!
For this is what you deserve for betraying me,
Fight fire with fire; do you not see?

As your struggles cease and your raspy breath fades,
The adrenaline in my blood disappears and decays
The wound in my stomach forces me to keel,
My mind is poisoned; it cannot heal

So I retrieve your sword as I heard the nine o'clock bell
I whispered to your corpse, "...I'll meet you in hell."

Once again; no, I'm not emo!

I hope you enjoyed reading, as I did writing!

Dark Eyes; another poem

Ta-daa! Another poem I will share with you all - whoever "you all" may be.

Personally, I always get the most inspiration in the morning. Whether it's writing or poems or having intellectual debates (while I was writing, Alec and my mom were talking about debating religious beliefs... what's the point?). I always ramble the most, in the mornings, as well. Maybe it's because it opens up my imagination, and lets it ALL out. It throws away the filters, allowing myself to go and go and go! ...which means that later, I need my mom and/or Alec to edit it out, and find the grammar errors in the sentences. :P

Anyway. I felt the need to write more, this morning. All night, Dev has been making me these AMAZING photoshopped pictures! They were all gorgeous (and you can find my photoshopped eyes on the right)!! But I could not do any of them. Maybe it was making me feel less special, and incapable. Maybe I was just jealous! Whatever it was, I wanted someone to ask me to do something for them, and make them proud of whatever I ended up doing. Thus, I asked my mom and Dev for a subject to write a poem about. My mom suggested "friends." I would like to have written about friends, but I don't have THAT many friends that I hang out with all the time, so I felt no inspiration with that idea (sorry mom!).

...Dev, on the other hand, suggested I write about her World of Warcraft character; Celiia the Werewolf. She wanted me to write about what it'd be like to be a werewolf, and have to endure turning into a beast every week/month, and being excluded by everyone around. Next thing you know, I have a six paragraph poem! Whoo!

ONE more thing I must add before I post the poem itself! The "herbal pill" that I will be referring to in the poem is one that Celiia had been taking for a long time, and eventually developed an allergic reaction to (another debate going on between my mom and Alec AND Dad now... can you grow immune to a formula that helpful to your body? Yes and no. The "pill" in this poem is not helpful, as far as Celiia's body knows.)


Okay, and here it is!


Dark Eyes

I did not ask for this, I would not have tried,
To have fangs, claws; to grow a hide
A curse, a spell, a hex, if you will,
I've grown immune to my old herbal pill

"It was gone," I said, "why did it return?!"
This power and thirst and blood that I yearn
"Make it go away, make it disappear!"
Must I continue to endure your jeer?!

While you all laugh and drink and have fun with your games,
I sit over here, being shouted and called names
Frustration and rage runs through my dark veins,
It's becoming worse... egging on my pains

Feral growls escape my lips,
My body jerking through my hips
Pulling my hair and clutching my head,
I clumsily load my gun with lead

Hurry, now! I must do it quick!
Time goes by with every "tick... tick... tick..."
Then... my eyes darken a shade, and I lose control,
Dropping the gun, I begin my patrol

My breaths grow low; forced and unsteady,
My lusts have renewed! Restored, and ready!
Continue to make jests, they all will?
Thus whose blood shall I spill?...

Morbid? Sad? What would it really be like to live as a werewolf, and be forced to live with such a curse? Blah. Personally, if you ask me, I think it would quite literally suck. Unfortunately, Dev fell asleep by the time I was finally done with the poem, so she'll have to wait until tomorrow to read it.


I hope you enjoyed reading as I did writing!