Disclaimer: SD not mine.
"Soulful Possession"
He moved and flowed like a one of Tennyson's poems, with rhyme and rhythm, hidden meanings, passion, power and love, tucked away beneath a glittering surface. Boundaries and bindings and rules made him flow like starshine and glow like the moonlit rain. The ice that poured from his veins melted in his fiery steps as he danced across the polished floor.
He was alive. Breathing, feeling, enraptured with the life that surrounded him. It was beautiful.
I watch him, worshipping from afar. I am too afraid of the frost in his heart and the fire in his eyes and the strength in his soul. I am too afraid to go near him, to touch him, make sure he is real and not just a godsend from my imagination.
He is perfection incarnate. His face seemed to be carved out of the finest white marble just as his flyaway hair seemed to trap darkness within it's depths. His eyes reflected the ocean and smothered everything, surrounding your soul. His lips tugged down by the gravity in his mind, his flawless aristocratic nose and sweet, sweet mouth couldn't have been more beautiful. Perfection. His long limbs appear to reach out to forever and his elegant mien freezes anyone who comes near him. The Ideal Being. Like the snow that falls from the sky, unmarred by impurity and dirt, forever perfect and pure and white.
Forever mine.
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The snowflakes lightly frosted the streets of Kanagawa, giving everything a festive look for the holidays. It was Christmas after all, the season filled to the brim with love, laughter and light; however one lone young man prowled the deserted alleyways of the prefecture. Who is it? a familiar figure, even encased in anonymous black clothes.
Is it the tall, handsome, basketball star out ALL ALONE on Christmas Eve? Dear Lord in Heaven on high! The world must be ending. Pigs must be flying. Stars must be falling like rain. Or have hearts been broken like cheap wine glasses? Hard to tell...
The young star stumbled into a dark alleyway and cowered there among the trash bins and garbage. Foul stenches and rats his only companions as he crouched in the darkness. He seems to be waiting. Watching the streets lit by single lamps and moonlight. Waiting. For someone or something?
The answer seems to be almost in sight. It's just around the corner! And as a slim hooded figure rounds the bend and passes the flickering streetlamps we catch a glimpse of a pale face with deep set blue eyes and a chilly demeanor to match the coldness of the night.
Our cowering friend smiles as he sees the slender hooded figure. He smiles an insane smile; full of need and want and thirst. He cowers deeper into the shadows, melding in with the dark until he is one with the filthy wall behind him. He whispers a name. Lovingly.
The ice eyed man stops walking, glancing around him like a lost deer as he feels a chill set into his already cold bones. Does he hear the whisper of his name in the air? Does he feel the insanity radiating from the filthy coward? No it's just the wind, just the cold, cold wind that follows him.
The wind follows him through streets and roads and twists and turns. The wind with hungry eyes trail him through his front door and watch him while he shrugs off his hooded coat and greets his family with a tight-lipped smirk and careful holiday hugs.
The wind sees him, the wind with soulless blue eyes. The wind feels him with an icy inhuman touch, and in the dark alleyway the shivering coward smiles amid trash and refuse. He is the star, he is the wind; and he can see and he can feel. He is content.
"Soulful Possession"
He moved and flowed like a one of Tennyson's poems, with rhyme and rhythm, hidden meanings, passion, power and love, tucked away beneath a glittering surface. Boundaries and bindings and rules made him flow like starshine and glow like the moonlit rain. The ice that poured from his veins melted in his fiery steps as he danced across the polished floor.
He was alive. Breathing, feeling, enraptured with the life that surrounded him. It was beautiful.
I watch him, worshipping from afar. I am too afraid of the frost in his heart and the fire in his eyes and the strength in his soul. I am too afraid to go near him, to touch him, make sure he is real and not just a godsend from my imagination.
He is perfection incarnate. His face seemed to be carved out of the finest white marble just as his flyaway hair seemed to trap darkness within it's depths. His eyes reflected the ocean and smothered everything, surrounding your soul. His lips tugged down by the gravity in his mind, his flawless aristocratic nose and sweet, sweet mouth couldn't have been more beautiful. Perfection. His long limbs appear to reach out to forever and his elegant mien freezes anyone who comes near him. The Ideal Being. Like the snow that falls from the sky, unmarred by impurity and dirt, forever perfect and pure and white.
Forever mine.
@@@@@@@@@@@
The snowflakes lightly frosted the streets of Kanagawa, giving everything a festive look for the holidays. It was Christmas after all, the season filled to the brim with love, laughter and light; however one lone young man prowled the deserted alleyways of the prefecture. Who is it? a familiar figure, even encased in anonymous black clothes.
Is it the tall, handsome, basketball star out ALL ALONE on Christmas Eve? Dear Lord in Heaven on high! The world must be ending. Pigs must be flying. Stars must be falling like rain. Or have hearts been broken like cheap wine glasses? Hard to tell...
The young star stumbled into a dark alleyway and cowered there among the trash bins and garbage. Foul stenches and rats his only companions as he crouched in the darkness. He seems to be waiting. Watching the streets lit by single lamps and moonlight. Waiting. For someone or something?
The answer seems to be almost in sight. It's just around the corner! And as a slim hooded figure rounds the bend and passes the flickering streetlamps we catch a glimpse of a pale face with deep set blue eyes and a chilly demeanor to match the coldness of the night.
Our cowering friend smiles as he sees the slender hooded figure. He smiles an insane smile; full of need and want and thirst. He cowers deeper into the shadows, melding in with the dark until he is one with the filthy wall behind him. He whispers a name. Lovingly.
The ice eyed man stops walking, glancing around him like a lost deer as he feels a chill set into his already cold bones. Does he hear the whisper of his name in the air? Does he feel the insanity radiating from the filthy coward? No it's just the wind, just the cold, cold wind that follows him.
The wind follows him through streets and roads and twists and turns. The wind with hungry eyes trail him through his front door and watch him while he shrugs off his hooded coat and greets his family with a tight-lipped smirk and careful holiday hugs.
The wind sees him, the wind with soulless blue eyes. The wind feels him with an icy inhuman touch, and in the dark alleyway the shivering coward smiles amid trash and refuse. He is the star, he is the wind; and he can see and he can feel. He is content.