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EcstasyLITTLE PILL WHITE AND ROUND,
GULP OF WATER, TURBO DOWN!
ANXIETY NOW, CAN'T STAND OR SIT,
JUST WAIT, DON'T WORRY, IT WILL HIT!
IN HALF-AN-HOUR YOU RISE INSIDE,
EVERYONE LOVES, NO HATE TO HIDE.
EVERYTHING'S GOOD, THERE IS NO WRONG,
IF THE WHOLE WORLD SWALLOWED IT,
EVERYONE WOULD GET ALONG...
WORLD PEACE I HAVE A VISION,
CANNOT BE OBTAINED THROUGH RELIGION;
BUT CAN BE RESOLVED CHEMICALLY.
THERE IS A GOD CALLED XTC!
MDMAI can feel my synapses sending electric jolts to one another,
firing pistons, high powered machine guns.
I can taste the chemicals,
the composition of everything I put my tongue on;
right down to the molecular level.
My spit is acidic, peroxide flavored,
and my head pulses to the insane back beat of a song no one but I can hear.
Every light has an extra glow, an aura, a halo around it,
and the night is ever so inviting.
Being still is not an option in my book;
this story was based on movement.
My teeth, once again 32 bits of glass,
crash against each other in harsh ocean waves of involuntary movement.
My legs, my body, they no longer belong to me;
nothing is my own any longer.
All involuntary impulse movements and spasms;
everything is now out of my control.
My secrets run out of my mouth before I can stop them.
The truth shines down in conversations on tough topics
where I would otherwise lie and deny.
Some things are better left unsaid,
but my mind and thoughts no longer belong to me
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More