darkdreamsx0x

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the children of lilith by darkdreamsx0x, literature

castle of horrors. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

castle of horrors.

softly brushing your fingertips over the walls, softly, for fear that if you touch them too roughly they'll crumble before you; erasing everything. if you touch them too much will they bruise? sunken peach pits full of dust and dried blood. these walls are haunted with the horrors of your childhood, worse, washed white. remember the loss of innocence here. young flesh and battered bones, your throat red and wrists red, and sore. puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, baby cries. reverberate through your ribcage, the symphony of danger. protect the child at all costs, the little girls whisper.. horror.. horror..

the less delicate things. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

the less delicate things.

i want to tell you of the delicate things; of little lace dresses stained in vomit, of peaches and cream and flower petals. i want to tell you of the milk puddles, and the way the blood pools up so quickly over porcelain skin. i'm a grimy fairy girl sitting in the gutter, a boy stops to say, "there's no glitter here, baby." "go home." oh a home, a home, a home. there is no such place for me, you see. i've been burying dog bones along the less traveled road, waiting for him to tell me it's safe to go home. but the poor dead pup can't speak, and home was never safe to begin with. i'm a rotten girl now. a swollen child who be

the serpent and the moon. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

the serpent and the moon.

i dreamed you were a serpent coiling around the moon. you called me luna, as i slept on a bed surrounded in white lilies; delicate, frail flowers, preserving me in soft death. my fingerprints bloomed primroses, and they tangled themselves in my hair, turning locks of dirt into rays of gold. i awoke in the womb of a butterfly, and was reborn into a puddle of milk. you carried me gently into the garden of eden, and fed me tiny raven hearts. you promised to protect me, and never leave me in the dark. but my love, you are the night; and fire burns your skin. i am the moon, i'll claim your soul. a serpents last desire. so kiss me quick,

storytelling. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

storytelling.

i was the gypsy child twirling in the grass, the little ballerina girl crying in the corner. the balloon tree princess hiding in her tower; leaving milk bowls in the garden for the fey folk. i was the soul seller, the dark daughter, sleeping with silver birds in red rivers. i became the scorpians prey, & was betrayed by the angel of gold. i became persephone captured by the devil, a golden flower ruined by the ruby; sweet pomegrante seed. i am the perverse servant to both angels & demons; my father made me stare into the mirror while he ripped apart my soul. i played witch, and princess, and often spun webs of death, an

crocodile tears. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

crocodile tears.

i am a sweet little sugar star fallen from the dark nebulae; the peaches & cream pie in the sky.* when i came to earth i drank crocodile tears, and was given an ultraviolet mushroom from the rabbit god.~ i rolled around in a field of clover, & my skin turned lizard green; under the moon i dreamed.* a manic pixie howling, sleeping in daisy caves and drinking blood with the bats; i play pretend, and reality. my DNA is mutating, and so is yours. i want to live in the clouds, the stars, and the dirt. i'm a space case princess, & one day i'll turn into fairy foam over the sea. dream a little dream with me~*

persephone. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

persephone.

i killed my soul because of you. don't you know that? you stole my light, my purity and what grew back was something darker, something hollow. i was sad when i met you, but at least i was still a living thing. now, i don't know what i am. hollow, empty, dead, alive, a ghost. all because of you. i don't know how you sleep at night. do you send all your ghosts to sleep with me? my heart was on fire. and now it's a rotting piece of meat, poisoning whats left of me. my scorpion lover, killer. you left me on deaths door, washed your hands of my murder in holy water. you pretend you're not the monster, but you always saw m

crybaby. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

crybaby.

fragile little babydoll, shakes and shivers on the cold bathroom floor. her petal white dress so soft and soaked in crimson tears, her favourtie shade of sadness. crystalline droplets shimmer and drip over rosy cheeks from dirt-doe eyes, and it is here she sends silent prayers to heaven to be saved. you innocent child, cry-baby; your father made you stare into the mirror while he ripped apart your soul and said, "look how ugly you are." she sleeps over the fragmented shards of broken glass, and cradles thorn-laced roses close to her heart. on a bed of eyes blinking batlashes against her pretty procelain skin, she dreams of a hou

garden in the ceiling by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

garden in the ceiling

swallowing magic pills and putting stardust up my nose wishing for the freefall into fairyland everything had become so fragile. my life had become a cold wind rushing through my brittle bones i lost control of my shaking body as limbs became wings the bones in my feet were crushed from pounding pavement running wild and pulling out my hair screaming as the magic leaked from my eyes. and so i collapsed in fields of forever conversing with the morning and evening star i befriended the boy on fire and we watched the wolf consume the moon. we let our arms become immortal entities, growing tall with the trees and drowned i

thirteen. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

thirteen.

trace the galaxies on my legs, see jupiter on my knee. there are red rivers over old scars, and bitter kisses down my neck. i'm searching over my skin for answers, but all i find is the memory. of last night, and what we did. my face is numb from your hand, from my mouth. i tried to cut you open. i marked your heart, with a cross. the dawn melted our pain away, sleep. and now i wake with new born eyes. the perfect baby, corrupted.

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the children of lilith by darkdreamsx0x, literature

castle of horrors. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

castle of horrors.

the less delicate things. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

the less delicate things.

the serpent and the moon. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

the serpent and the moon.

storytelling. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

storytelling.

crocodile tears. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

crocodile tears.

persephone. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

persephone.

crybaby. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

crybaby.

garden in the ceiling by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

garden in the ceiling

thirteen. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

thirteen.

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crybaby. by darkdreamsx0x, literature

Literature

crybaby.

darkdreamsx0x

About darkdreamsx0x

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May 4, 1991
Canada
Deviant for 17 years
angel-play.tumblr.com
She / Her

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My Bio

^{"I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman."- Anaïs Nin}

sun: ♉ // moon: ♑ // rising: ♏ ~*

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally,inhumanly sensitive. To him…a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create…so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless creating.” ^{Pearl Buck}

Favourite Visual Artist

mark ryden, trevor brown, kukula, scott ferry, ammut aisilinn

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

marina & the diamonds, florence & the machine, grimes, bat for lashes, crystal castles, cocorosie, lana del rey, ruby throat, hole

Favourite Writers

anais nin, chuck palahniuk, sylvia plath, oscar wilde, osho, deepak chopra, f. scott fitzgerald, vladimir nabokov, kafka, carl sagan. ~*favourite quotes on http://rabbitinthemoon.tumblr.com*~

Other Interests

♥ ancient egypt ♥ sacred geometry ♥ auras ♥ cosmic consciousness ♥ alien life ♥ anime ♥ blood ♥ art ♥ flowers ♥ crystals ♥ poetry ♥ the 1920s ♥ faeries ♥

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darkdreamsx0x

Jan 19, 2012

i play with the angels at night

0 min read

and bruise their little throats with my fingertips. .................................☽..................................... hello lovelies!~ surprisingly i've felt much more inspired to write lately. it started with an idea i had about gathering all my writings (both prose & little sentences) into one blog. i went through all my old personal blogs & organized them into my new private blog called moth-girl. it's like stringing together all my little dreamy thoughts & giving birth to a collection of inspiring starters for future poems. sometimes all i need is a few words to create a whole story in my head. it makes things much easier t

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darkdreamsx0x

Dec 5, 2011

angels obey

0 min read

The fairy poet takes a sheet of moonbeam, silver white; his ink is dew from daisies sweet, his pen a point of light. - Joyce Kilmer ✿..............☽.❀.☾..............✿ hello darlings!~ so i've finally sorted through all the people i followed and organized my profile the best as i can for the moment. it took me about 4 days to go through each individual gallery of the artists and writers i have followed since the beginning and i've gone from 500 something people down to 108 people now that i still follow. it's quite a relief to be able to come back after a few days and not have hundreds and hundreds of m

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darkdreamsx0x

Nov 5, 2011

Follow your inner moonlight, don't hide the madnes

0 min read

hello deviants! i know it has been a very very long time since i've been around~ i'm not even sure who still follows me here, or if any of you still exist; but i'm back, sort of. i just deleted thousands of old messages that i never got around to, i put it off for a very long time. i miss deviantart, i miss writing. i'm not even sure i'll be able to, i've been in the worst writers block of my life for a very very long time now. but the winter is coming and if i intend to survive it i need to write. anything, really. i might not even have much to post here, but i can't bring myself to create a new account. no matter how embarrassing, naive, o