beautiful and i love it, "yours to play with" at the end makes me feel things
much like etro anime's danger's "danger of falling in love like this, danger of falling apart in the hands of another", it invokes a sensation of devotion which im a lover of
however while danger's image is that of a heart delivered by shaking hands, this is a heart delivered with a smile. not that there is no fear of what theyll do with it, but because i dont care what theyll do with it as long as they keep it.
beautiful and i love it, "yours to play with" at the end makes me feel things
much like etro anime's danger's "danger of falling in love like this, danger of falling apart in the hands of another", it invokes a sensation of devotion which im a lover of
however while danger's image is that of a heart delivered by shaking hands, this is a heart delivered with a smile. not that there is no fear of what theyll do with it, but because i dont care what theyll do with it as long as they keep it.
You're very kind, thank you.
We aren't a professional poet, by any means, I believe this is the first compliment we've ever received on this sort of writing, in fact, so it means much.
Semiramis is one of our names. The Greek form of the Assyrian Shammu-rammat. The most famous bearer thereof was a Queen of that ancient nation, demonized many centuries later by Leontodites who named her the inventor of poison, of black magic, of homosexuality, and of castration. She is the woman first-scorned, and is all women scorned.
One of our system sisters is named Semiramis Winters, as well, taking that name for herself. As the historical Semiramis is all women, so too can our Semiramis fill the role of any woman, student of the arts as she is.
Stab me ferocious, the night is alive as I am dead. I don't often stand straight. I'm a puzzler by nature, this hunk of mental has my name hieroglyphed onto its blade. I'm an open heart, and I'll make yours do worse. Strangling the hilt to death, I slice my hand across the sharp, and bleed onto the blade. Its silver crimsones, and the blood in the iron lifts it into the sky like my own fists - It. Is. Alive. - The spine moves, the blade is a red serpent; thrashing, hungry.
Before I had even drawn it - drawn this - the space I can see was already ash. A hot wind blew in with me, and I leveled all of the trees. Cracked and crooken, black and cooked; timbers to matchsticks. I will cut it all down; the trees and the people. The bad ones, and the good ones too.
Comments
purple, Roman scarlet,
and other snailish colors -
centralfix'ed, lies the Monarch,
cocooned and dreaming
You're very kind, thank you.
as for you.