IzabellaStormfire2

The Warmest Machine

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His Coffin is Not Your Arms by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

His Coffin is Not Your Arms

I'm drunk on my own suicide They say I show up like a motif All these voices in my head Well maybe I'm just part of them Like they are part of me I'm here with my own coat in hand It's only my dead cold skin And I take these pills like I'm drinking water I need to sleep but This isn't water I'm lying here listening to the rain On my window like the fragile beaks Of birds I dreamed of ages ago and whose Tiny feathers never flowered only Struggled up and closed

Scraps by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

Scraps

There is a hierarchy of needs A hierarchy of people I need People I may or may not Honestly care about There is a circle I hold Of 'what should I do who should I kill' When killing is love and if bones are Mean then how and whence I come Are measured out in soft sugared spoonfuls Of flour a little past its time And old cakes sit waiting On the mantle piece and windowsill My carpet fades Everywhere but underneath me I am a shield, and in my monotone retching I cleanse myself of health And this is near the only hour I can ever see clearly And this is near the only place I cannot love the precipiece Or leave me! Because that's what I deser

Observatory Mansions by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

venus i by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Told in Obscurity by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

Told in Obscurity

I met you, an acosmist And from the worthless sabaism of my past I descended Into your categorical nothingness (Nor I Nor you Nor even do we exist) In euphoria I fell And I felt As if the world could now stop spinning For only now had I begun to see A sabine, paralian dawn Sanguinous, bled too long Now dimming, now darkened And gentle-bred we harkened To the weaker side of living We saw the pale things which Suckle at the belly of the higher world and breed Monstrous and grotesque - beautiful indeed They quiver and die Blink out With not so much as a sound I met you, the acosmist

tea and spice by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

tea and spice

"what do you think of silks?" said he i stirred my tea and twirled a stick of cinammon between my tongue and teeth "if bees wove honey the way worms weave silk i should be perfectly happy." "and do they?" his voice was quiet in the gentle light a shaft of dark sun in the kitchen dusk "i used to think they didn't" i looked up at him through lashes brown and warm with the scent of cinammon "but then i met you"

Irene by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Phoenix Imperator by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

Phoenix Imperator

I. The phoenix is a god Unto the smallness of men He stands above them Glorious And molds them to his will The girl The she-wolf Coils behind and Weaves around Them she leads and Him she follows Silver footsteps make no sound II. Rivers uncoiled Molten gold Roils within his eyes Like lakes of fire Twin depths, they shine Two hearts from which the soul pours forth And she a sliver Of twining silver Lines of light and shadow hide She feels the fire, The wind and finds What silver and gold are worth III. He stands, encircled By brightest gold Feathers And she kneels before him The guardian I am an offering A bl

(and I was dark) by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

(and I was dark)

I pulled you up From the water under those old stones And you fell into me Like the water in your bones I held you close And you shocked my skin And the mud in my pores You washed me clean I held your hands And we met the abyss We craned our necks to see The bottoms of the cliffs We held our breath and lifted our arms Raised our hands to the sky And we flew And where were you? When I was soft and cold and crying When I knelt at the base of the mountain and prayed I needed to feel the icy floods of your words I needed the winter storms of your lovely face I was dark, unclean, and winter-worn I needed all your grace I love

not a word by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

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His Coffin is Not Your Arms by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

His Coffin is Not Your Arms

Scraps by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

Scraps

Observatory Mansions by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

venus i by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Told in Obscurity by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

Told in Obscurity

tea and spice by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

tea and spice

Irene by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Phoenix Imperator by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

Phoenix Imperator

(and I was dark) by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

Literature

(and I was dark)

not a word by IzabellaStormfire2, literature

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Six letters to define you by CognoviUmbras, literature

to the gunman of a school shooting in newtown, CT by learningtobefree, literature

Literature

to the gunman of a school shooting in newtown, CT

the black man on the television screen spits reform, but parents of dead children plea gun control in the wake of the destruction of 20 children, 26 lives total. adam, don't you realize it's christmas time & these parents will be burying bones instead of caroling songs? the black man on the television screen admits: our heart is broken. but there is no beauty in the unity that follows robbing of innocence. adam, you sprayed the school with bullets bursting into shrapnel off the shattering skulls of children. 20 little bodies hauled off in white sanitation bags, stained red with crusty blood and shouting mothers screaming to t

mussolini by learningtobefree, literature

Literature

mussolini

i went to bed with benito mussolini - harsh, harsh man. clean-shaven face, smooth skin but rough hands. mr. mussolini was the great leader of Italy - hitler was his friend. see, nothing gets a girl's blood flowing like fascism and invasion of foreign lands. i fucked a black man once; Ethiopia, you have good food. but benito, boy, he sure knows how to treat you. il Duce, tu dolce - you're sweeter than sacramental wine under the scalding sun. the roman empire didn't stand a chance against the man who tingled my insides with his laws. with his straight, pointy nose and his full, full lips the Italian ruler drew the secrets from my skin,

boys who love their grandmothers by learningtobefree, literature

Literature

boys who love their grandmothers

never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother. he will be too gentle with your lips, too sincere when he whispers blessings into your ears pleading that he doesn't deserve you. his tongue will not slither between your teeth. instead, the heat of his mouth will melt your scar tissue until there is no trace of your travels. never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother. he knows patience. you will try to convince him that it is one of the many virtues you don't yet possess, but he will dig through the flesh in your ribcage until he finds it lodged beneath everything you're too scared to confess. he will teach you forg

Cuil Theory: Hopscotch by seafortyone, literature

Literature

Cuil Theory: Hopscotch

Billy is playing hopscotch. 1 cuil _ Billy scraped his knee while playing hopscotch. 2 cuil _ As Billy played hopscotch with bits of flesh and blood, it became clear he would lose his life savings to this game. 3 cuil _ White as the lines on the pavement; Billy is no longer with us. Quiet as the chalk. His voice is now silent but in his flesh a grand cacophony screams. His being echoes with the grace of God and his dead skull with the chatter of little boy's dreams. His heart soul pours out his lips like liquid wildfire as the maid sweeps up. 4 cuil _ Before you stands a grid, and you have all but one choice to make. Roll the dice, thro

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About IzabellaStormfire2

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

May 20
United States
Deviant for 12 years
They / Them

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IzabellaStormfire2

Oct 30, 2015

Guys I'm making a new account. I will show up here occasionally but I will transfer soon.

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IzabellaStormfire2

Oct 29, 2015

Careful or you'll blow your head off

0 min read

Make sure the safety's on

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IzabellaStormfire2

Oct 22, 2015

Devious Journal Entry

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And I need this like I need paper-thin fins

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Profile Comments 408

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fireheart613

Jun 13, 2015

I thought about writing you a letter before we graduated, but I only ever wanted to when it was late at night and I was already halfway asleep.

I know, now, that we both fucked up a long time ago, and maybe I was never a good friend to you to begin with. And hell, I don't know if anything that happened really matters anymore, because shit happens, and your best friend when you're thirteen isn't likely to be your best friend for life.

I don't know anything, really. I just know that I wish I'd at least made an attempt to talk to you before I knew I would likely never see you again. And I know that looking at this page makes me sad.

Bye, Tyler. I really did love you, back then.