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Left In BetweenI watched as they took her away
Through the crescent of an ill-fitted doorknob
Black straps and a blanket
Not receiving but dispatching
But she hasn't been here
For so long now anyways
And as she lays in a cold white maze
The dinner burns and hands shake
I had murdered before
Something ripped out and away
The thing she didn't do to me
So I am left to feel the pain
The blood is so silent
Creeping over top and then down to the floor
Lost to shadows and dust
As I scrub for salvation
And I'm so scared to be near
For she's already gone
They are already gone
And I'm left in between all alone
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