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~TheSeventhWave:iconTheSeventhWave:

Rob Christopher MacDonald  

  • Status: Member
  • Shadow Deviant
  • Male/Canada
  • Invisible
  • Deviant since Jun 27, 2004, 2:16 AM
  • 12 Deviations
  • 2 Scraps [browse]
  • 8 Deviation Comments
  • 4 Deviant Comments
  • 1,909 Pageviews

Rapture

You make it seem like there's nothing more to life,  Than morning inside your bed and my hands beneath your head.  Sometimes I am sure you're an angel,  And you've got me under your spell.  I'll save your wings from their tangles,  And care for you 'til we're well.   
But I'm sure no one would believe me.   
You made me promise that I'm not afraid to die,  I assure you my heart is honest, no worries, you're by my side.  If you want, we could sleep through the rapture,  And come out when the sun goes down.  If you rise, I will climb your ladder,  To heaven from our ground. &

Recent Deviations

Last NightWhen I enter a room, voices raise as though the dead had also.  Am I an experience with a ghost for friends long since lost?  I am a forgotten handful of seconds to drunken whores,  Splitting the silence I wear with things profound, I am sure.  Concerning myself only with sewing quiet hide together again,  I am the drink christening brick in their slurred after hours.   
By the time I woke up, aquarius had been smothered alive.  Neither the cold asphalt or welcoming drainage ditch stirred me,  From what I had prayed was a dream between reality and death.  I was a disbeliever, begging for an id Last Night
in Other on 11/18/07
XyComfort which ebbs nebulous fashions agony,  With time strapped to a torso like violent plastics.  Suck specifics from my skull before I surrender,  Painting sidewalks with every detail.   
Apathy rapes an ultimatum.   
Noxious despair steams under hushing aether,  Patiently approaching a boil which might erode,  Cleanse and refresh honest love grown wary.   
Held breath meets an evaporated past.   
Sprawled across our inspired vertex,  Emotion inverts upon tender infinites.  Hatred to affection and ego to om,  Forever expanding post cusp. Xy
in Other on 10/8/07
FormaldehydeSubmitting gentle vomit harmonies into my ear,  Your legs served as an anchor in oceans of viscera;  Comforting possessions in your temporarily concerned arms.  Maintaining consciousness via the stench of preservation,  Which had stained your disambiguated solace in iodine,  You sleepily compared the texture and tint to bark,  About trunks in which we carved immortality.  Nostalgia swam into your crooked mouth,  Upon harmonies of an unsheathed edge. Formaldehyde
in Other on 10/8/07
Yeah
in deviantID on 7/15/07
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