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crimsonmelodyStatus: Run, Rabbit, run. Dig that hole, forget the sun...
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Latest Journal Entry: update February 22, 2010, 03:09pm
Profile: ^Any pictures in my gallery are either of myself or are pictures that I have drawn. They are my own personal work. ^-^ FYIName: Crimsonmelody, Nibby, Crimmy, Kanii, Melody, Rebekah, or Evin poet ninja writer actor norwegian music lover paraphiliac aspiring artist sanguinarian pagan pastafarian atheist pangender pansexual lynx manga maniac animal lover people hater libertarian heavy sleeper biter therian living controversy listener watcher verbally blunt individual reader spontaneous nipper skeptic nihilist small town spawn I am social obscurity. I am just barely human. I am singularily many. I am infinitely finite. I am a figment of your imagination. I enjoy what I do and don't do what I don't enjoy (easy, eh?). I have written a lot of poetry and many stories some of which are on deviantART. My name on there is "sanglante-melodie". Feel free to check it out. I may post some stuff on here but not too much. ^-^ Infection's Inflections She asks me if I smoke. I say I quit a few years ago. She asks me if I drink. I tell her rarely. She laughs a little and says, "Good lord, child, you don't have any vices. I'm jealous." The nurse closes the papers on her clipboard. She gets up and crosses the room, "The doctor will be with you in a little bit." I say thank you but only the back of the back of the door hears it as it softly closes behind her. Past it I can hear the distant noises of a busy office, the chatting of nurses about family vacations, the talk of doctors in technical terms that I've heard before but don't really understand. The starch white room itself is silent. Stainless steel instruments hang on the wall and sit on the counter. Disinfectant, magazine rack, paper covered exam table. It all gives me the chills. I stare at the speckled grey carpet and can't help but smirk. Vices. Lady, I don't know how you define them but I have plenty. They just don't have little boxes to check off on your clipboard. That statement should probably make me happy. That there aren't little boxes. That they aren't expected. Or accepted. At least, by the majority. I play with my earrings, still staring at the carpet. A shiver crawls over my head even though I'm wearing a sweatshirt. It isn't cold. It's just...creepy. The silent kind of macabre that you don't really think about until it's too late. The slight hint of something sinister behind a placid facade. In hospitals and clinics, you're so open. Exposed. Vulnerable. I suppose that's the real reason I hate them. Surrounded by hundreds of people who know things that I don't and we trust them to cut us open. To see past our skin. Hundreds who, with the tiniest decision, can either take or save a life. The energy of those places, while sterile, it's also stagnant. Hanging and waiting. Every motion, every step, is only a temporary solution to the final inevitability. A child is born but into a world of deceit and ignorance, helpless. A treatment is found but gives only a few more years, more time to waste away. A wound is healed but the psyche is forever scarred. A death confirmed and taken in writing. I sincerely believe that a hospital is the most depressing place on earth. Spawning hope but also a promise of pain. Creating opportunity but always at a price. A few more years, a more desperate hope. A few pills. False pretense. Placebo. Playing the psychic game. Cemeteries are places of rest. There is pain but also there is closure. There is sickness but it is given to the earth to heal. The body, accepted into the ground, begins to cover the pain. A hospital, an open wound. A necessary wound in society, a place for the living to die and to try delaying death. Forever accepting disease, forever regurgitating it. It's stainless steel faces promise chaste hope. Kind of like my knife. The difference is my knife doesn't lie to me when I ask if everything will be "ok." Because I'm not asking about the temporary degree of acceptable pain. But only my knife ever seems to understand that. The doctor just smiles, prescribes me something to dull the pain. To help me sleep. Surprisingly enough, she caught the inflection as I asked. Her mask smiled at me as I wished her a nice day. And I swear I saw it slip a little as I walked out the door. Indistinctly The soles of my shoes wear away on the cement until you tell me, you really tell me what you really meant. My sighes reach my knees while my eyes plead softly. I asked you to be honest but I guess that was too much to expect. Now my fingernails are leaving trails through my brain and your riddles are slowly complicating this game. I'll ask you one more time if you really care but as time goes on I'm finding it harder to listen. So take my, take my, take my hand. And I'll leave the questions behind. So tell me, tell me, help me understand. But don't say a word until you know what to say. The breeze through the trees, it whispers to me. A song with a melody that doesn't quite fit. So rewrite the words to answer the question but if you don't really want to, I guess that's just fine. He said, she said, it said the melody is what needs to change well I said, she said, we said the melody is what is just fine why does the leaf bleed? Because it needs a melody to dance to before it's dead. And I need, I need, I need a melody. To change up the words to that song I once wrote. So dance a little jig even though it's not over and smile a little grin before it's too late. The tree's song can wait because while I have you I want you to know that I'll always be here. My shoes now are held together with silver tape and my hair's falling out from too many sighs. But when I'm with you, my mind ceases to care because even though it's not clear, I like passing the time. conTENT...CONtent He misses the star beyond the sky. Winking it's bright eye, it said, "Nothing is as it seems" as it disappeared beneath the moon in all her glory. Her cheeks so pale and soft. Lady Night told me to not be so naive, to take the stony mask off and see the world in all it's honesty, it has no ability to lie. For nothing is as honest as the darkness beyond the sky. Each being must give their own a meaning. A purpose, a course. An existance without meaning is as a stream with no banks. It pours over in to everything else, emptying, evaporating, And it ceases to be. Likes: oreos, nature, any and all forms of art, taekwondo, hockey, hello kitty, leather, chains, biting, being bitten, sketch books, zebras, edgar allen poe, theatre, acting, mythology, the moon, being choked, being slapped, philosophy, folklore, dead baby jokes, Les Miserables, RENT, war, peace, love, hate, strong emotions, dark humor, the french language, fire, water, K-pop, J-pop, The Darwin Awards, The Flying Spaghetti Monster, sangria (for short nights), fine wine (for longer nights), spiced rum, my electric-acoustic and electric guitars, dogs, cats, fish, frogs, animals in general (except monkeys, chickens, full grown cattle, and pigs), my piano, scented stuff, candles, incense, my bass clarinet, rocks, gemstones, Tarot, runes, Diablo II, manga, new moons, chewing on my fingers, chewing on pens, chewing on stuff in general, web comics, super glue/duct tape (and their many possibilities), collars, the death penalty, badasses, girls' asses, witty jackasses, celtic knots, hand cuffs, cat ears and tails on cute girls, cute girls, girls in general, light, dark, colors, rain, the castration of dumb people, serial killers, sociopaths, psychopaths, pathology, psychology, herbal studies, forensics shows, Dexter (best show ever), House, Scrubs, That 70s Show, Psyche, Monk, Dr. Who, South Park, Drawn Together, lesbians, Devil May Cry 3, Final Fantasy, Kingdom Hearts (1, 2, and Chain of Memories), Katamari Damacy, Odin's Sphere, Silent Hill, shiny kitchen appliances, skeletons, my hamster named Tomatoes :3Dislikes: too much of the color pink, the close-minded, probably you, gangstas, wiggers, socialists, socialites, communists, the gender binary, hardcore catholics, rap, racist jokes, being itchy, people who talk too much, people who talk too little, dumb people, drunk people (when I'm not also drunk), biblebeaters, religous nuts in general, stalkers, dogs who haven't been trained, bitchy cats, the dryers at my dorm, expensive crappy food, the so open-minded that they're brains fall out their gaping mouths, artists who shouldn't be, dumbasses, pointless jackasses, smartasses, bad grammar, when people call me "girl" or "gurl" or "woman" or any variation of that, people who mess with my friendsFavorite Music: Amber Pacific AFI Arch Enemy As Cities Burn Apocalyptica Arch Enemy Avenged Sevenfold Bad Religion Becoming the Archetype Big Bang Bleed the Dream Bowling for Soup Chiodos Children of Bodom Dashboard Confessional Default Dethklok Disturbed Dragonforce Evanesence Flyleaf G-Dragon Godsmack Gorgoroth Green Day Haste the Day Keep and Confess (local band) Korn Led Zepplin Linkin Park MCR Marilyn Manson Nickel Creek Nickelback Nightwish Nirvana Nine Inch Nails NoFX Ozzy Osbourne Papa Roach Poison the Well Rammstein Red Jumpsuit Apparatus Sage Francis Senses Fail Silly Fools Slayer Stone Sour Super Junior The Beatles The Used They Might Be Giants Third Eye Blind Three Days Grace Unwritten Law  Created by Recipe Star If you actually are serious about wanting me to join a cult, you have to actually message me and ask me personally. I block all cult invites but if you ask nice enough in a personal message, I will look it over. Cults I Don't Accept Invites to Under Any Circumstances -fashion cults, contest cults, hair cults, dr-feel-good cults, roleplaying cults, lesbian/bi cults (sorry ladies, I don't discriminate), religious cults... I'll add more to the list as I think of them. If its not on the list, feel free to try me. Homepage: http://sanglante-melodie.deviantart.com/
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