Dread of night. Dread of not-night.

        On she went dimly, into the lonely night amid the dark. In the midst a windbreak of black oaks, shadowy and vast, is before her. Her footsteps slow and careful. The leaves above her shudder, they're black with gloomy foliage. Her hair like rising smoke whirled in the air, the wind bit her eyes and tears streamed down her filthy cheeks. She blinked, and darkness overtook the light. She could just barely see the silhouettes of the trees. Her eyes adjusted to the change it was then that she noticed, something unspeakable was staring backwards at her, with eyes that glowed like fire. Disbelieving, a small sound escapes a bone-dry throat, her frozen blood stood still and clogged her veins. It's mouth was full of needle-like teeth in a white row, fearful and daunting, and upon it's grim brow lay a mane of golden locks entwined with bloody ribbons.

     It spoke, a powerful sound, "I am Phobos. What do you dread most in this world?" She answered not, so it spoke again "Did I steal the courage from your heart?" In a furious haste she atoned for her delay, "What I dread the most is already what I live." The monster looked offended but it seemed to already know this to be true. It replied with a growl then disappeared into the darkness from which it spawned. Then she was falling, no flying backwards, then she awoke. Completely alone.

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Care to feed the madness?

I don't like the drugs (but the drugs like me).

        To my readers, fans, and stalkers alike; Fear not! I am alive and well as I can be. I'm suffering from an awful case of writer's block. You see, the explanation is really quite simple, about 8 weeks ago I started new medication. They are the prime suspect in the murder of my creative self. I'm eager to start writing again, so I'm really hoping that this resolves itself sooner rather than later. Until then, try not to go insane. Inspire, motivate, encourage. I'd love to hear more from my readers!

deviantiffany@gmail.com

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Care to feed the madness?

My very own sonshine.

        It's hard to believe that 4 years ago, I had my first son. He stole my heart and has it still. I love you Duncan, you're wild and you drive me crazy but I couldn't imagine my life without you in it.

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Care to feed the madness?

Cake, ice cream and wine. Oh my.

        Duncan's 4th birthday festivities. And yes, the adults had wine.

This lady, she's something. The name is Sloane.

Sloane's little boy Adam has Duncan's back. Fo sho.

Heartbreaker Brandon. Pretty much my adopted son.

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Care to feed the madness?

Dark am I, yet lovely.

        She gropes in darkness, hoping for light, but none comes. Clouds and thick blackness surround her now. He casts her down to ruin so that she will never be rebuilt. Abandoned to her grave the decay crept deep into her bones. Her skin grows black and hardens, her heart follows suit. She prays the end is near. "Please grant me relief! How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?"

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Care to feed the madness?

Great and horrible things.

        I see hell in my dreams. I want to interpret what this all means, but the details are both complete and fragmented. Maybe these dreams are dreams foretelling great change in my life. Maybe I am my own frightener.

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My Fair Lady.

        He created her, loving her before she had form. Shaping her lips, to kiss. Forming her cheeks, to flush. He worked his hands over the crude clay assembling her as she was in his mind, defect-less. Burning with excitement, he worked frenetically. Budding breasts, to touch upon. Molding curves, to absorb the attention of mankind. Casting eyes, to look upon him fondly. She was complete, minus a beating heart to love him, except breath to whisper his name. Back to top

Simply she.

        She's not supposed to be perfect, no one is supposed to understand her. Her story is meant to be chaotic, meant to make you bewildered, meant to keep you wanting more. None of this makes sense, but it's all so delightfully nonsensical and I love it.

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I think I'll stay here for a while.

        Running at a feverish pace, the sensation of being chased fades and so she slows. She pauses, finding herself in what seems to be a lacuna, in a world without end. This place, it's barren of trees and shrubbery, blank of grass, bleached of growth, devoid of life in general. There's neither pain nor pleasure, neither happiness nor misery. She spins and spins and never gets vertigo because this place is not physical. In her mind. This is her own personal oubliette and she's damned herself. She sits cross legged, she interlaces her fingers. She looks up and just over her head in her dungeon, she can see him. She sees Artemis looming and she curses him inwardly.

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I blame Artemis.

        "I overcame the fiend." She thought as she hitched out of her hiding place and into an open clearing. She secures her heart all the same, locking in what wants to burst out.

     The sun resigned unnoticed this day, a somber moon assumed its role. Artemis, ever so grim-faced is looming. Looking down upon only her, or so it seemed. The air held a slight chill, a mist was forming. The trees, stationed like soldiers, glowed eerily in the moonlight and fog. In the distance a lone figure huddled beneath the strange light.

     Her vision honed a form glowing softly in the encompassing mist just ahead, She knew then that the hunt had resumed.

     She hadn't even the chance to turn and to run. Her heart was racing, and her breath came in short gasps. She had no idea how to getaway, or exactly where she was to go. Resigned, she opened her arms and she fell. Perhaps, this game had gone on long enough. When she first saw him, it was his eyes that captured her. She lost her breath briefly as they stood facing each other.

     He has managed to seize her, though I don't think he knows. The question now becomes, how is she to seize him? How is the hunted to become the hunter? The pursued to become the pursuer? Back to top

The hunted.

        She wants to run from him, she wants run to him. Running, racing, heart pounding, tat-tat, tat-tat. The drumming of her feet, like hoof beats upon the earth as she runs, clank-clank-clank. She can hardly breath, her lungs are burning for that one deep breath she cannot catch. Because she knows, oh she knows that she must keep running. She steals a glance back, she hears the beast is drawing nigh, he's advancing on her with rapid strides. She knows it is no gentle chase, she's running for her heart. Back to top

Melinda's.

        Memories of a good friend (sometime in 2008).

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Vacant am I.

        The girl is not quite deserted, said the ghost. A solitary heart, neglected by the world, is left there still screaming in secret places, bated breath pleads "Please don't go! Don't leave me here alone."

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All hope abandon ye who enter here.

        I wonder if it shows, the look of defeat all about me. Can they look into my eyes and tell I've abandoned hope? Does my face show my defeat? If they have noticed, would they care enough to ask? If they asked and I affirmed, would they then offer me their hand? I feel like a mannequin, anchored in this place, absolutely mesmerized by nothing in particular. My face is blank and featureless. Inside I'm both barren and ablaze. My blistered breath is devoured piece by peice, again and again by the flame that burns through-and-through. A burning that is profound and all consuming. This is not easy to write, to untangle the complex notion, a puzzle only making sense in my mind. The feeling of being, both devoid and blazing at one time.

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Dreamland.

        My eyes open, the morning light pouring in through the windows opposite of my bed. I'm aware of the warm bodies on either side of me, my children asleep surrounding me. Our bodies are close, our breathing synchronized, our minds could not be further apart. Each dreaming a different dream behind closed eyes. My dreams I don't recall upon waking, and I'm all the better because of that. Sadly, I know my dreams are not real. In their minds, a whimsical place in their minds, where cartoon characters sing silly tunes or adventures are had. I can merely speculate on what wonders are taking place, if I had to venture a guess, might be something like this: Acres and acres of bright colors, sing-a-long songs echo in the valley of Gumdrop Mountain, hand in hand with a beloved baby doll through the Lollipop Forest, a magical place where no one grows up, and everything is wonderful. Oh to know the dreams of sleeping children.

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Fibrillation.

Fibrillation
by: Tiffany Anderson
       Do you wish to erase me from your past?
Pretend you never met me? Well, that's too bad.
You can't deny that you felt the jolt I gave you.
So go ahead, eliminate me.
But, I'll stay buried in your depths.
And your heart will never forget me.
It might not be today, it may not be this year.
Before long, thoughts of me will crash onto your mind's shore.
It's then, my dear, I'll light your soul's dark corners.
You will know contempt, you'll go on pretending no more.
I want you think of how you crossed me, dashed me, mutilated me.
Think of it forevermore.

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Twilight pictures.

        Yes I am a Twilight fan, yes I use Photoshop. ♥

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To love and back again.

        I was always terrified of you, Jorge, because you actually made me feel something. I used to think love wasn't worth fighting for, but when I met you I was ready for that war. The truth is, I gave my heart away a long time ago, all of it, and I never really got it all back. But I gave you the best in me.

        I still think about you all the time. Every couple of nights or so, I'll dream about you. I can't just get rid of you like you got rid of me, why didn't you face me? You know, just because something is unspoken doesn't mean that it disappears or that the hurt isn't there. I dunno that I want to know the truth. I may think I wanna know, but if I knew why, I'd prolly give just about anything to go back to being ignorant.

        Maybe you and I got lost somewhere, I dunno. A broken heart is not what I wanted from this, but I will evolve in love. I'll find a heart that will love me at my worst and arms that will hold me at my weakest. But you, Jorge, you're always going to mean something to me. No matter what happens. you're always gonna be somewhere deep down inside me. I’ll never forget you and the way you made me feel.

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Life is too short to blend in.

        Original thinkers, are you out there? Are we that rare? In all seriousness, hear my cry bloggers of the world, stop blogging only about family, obsessing over your kids, or trying to spread your religious bullshit. I'd like to read something that I don't already live every day. Follow my example, I don't blog, blogging is fucking stupid. I write. I wrote long before I ever signed up for Blogger. I write what I feel and I feel what I write. I'm tired of apologizing and being made to feel inadequate because my blog isn't entirely about my kids, or a significant other, or church. Yeah my kids are number one in my life, and I love them, but I didn't stop being an individual when I gave birth.

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Hang a dream catcher beside my bed.

        I awoke from a nightmare that felt so tangible only to realize that, the horror was unchanged in the sunlight. I'm alone again and it hurts. It's not a profound hurt, because I've been through worse than being dumped. I just wonder, what did I did wrong? What could I have done better? Was it me? Was it him? There are so many questions left with no answers, he's condemned me to wonder. It's a waking nightmare.

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Why little boys really giggle.

        While doing the dishes, I seen the top of a blonde head go past the bar and said "Duncan! What ya doing?" He promptly popped his head and replied "Nothing!" For the dish doing duration, he had the top of his head down to his eyes in my line of vision and was giggling and staring at me. When I finished and walked around I seen he had removed his diaper and then it all made sense lol.

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Things that go bump.

        I love darkness as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love it without knowing how, or when, or from where.

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My son the tadpole.

       

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Timeless.

        Pain and sadness feel not the binds of time that has passed. It's been a year's time since I had then lost him. Ticking is my heart, because the clock that keeps my time it crawls not flies. "A part of you has grown in me, together forever we shall be, never apart maybe in distance but not in heart."

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