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Post by Tricky on Nov 28, 2012 1:28:14 GMT -5
 I WIPE MY BROW AND SWEAT MY RUST Caine doesn’t sleep.
He wonders how the rest of them can, wrapped around each other, content with their nightmares. And he stands here, his eyes sunken and ringed, stardust in their corners and fatigue fresh on his lips. He is envious of them, envious of their ability to put aside all the faces and all the cries. Do they not see them every time they close their eyes. Are they not haunted like he is haunted. He doesn’t regret, if he were to regret anything he’d go mad. So he pushes aside the guilt and focuses on something else entirely.
How do they sleep?
The night is full of monsters and not all of them have teeth, and Caine is all too aware of how cold the wind is on his skin, although it cannot reach the tender flesh beneath his mask – sore and red and bleeding. That is where it hurts the most. But this night, this night above all others, seems to be so still, as if even the monsters cannot bare to breath. He understands, because he can feel it too. The air is strong, pressure on his chest, squeezing against his heart, crushing the muscle under its weight. He chokes on its thickness every time he opens his mouth.
How do they sleep?
Oh he knows how.
They forget, they drown, they stop believing they are humane and embrace their animalistic lust for blood. They tell themselves they enjoy it. His brothers – his comrades, companions, fellows – they had all addressed themselves with such familiarities but Caine can’t remember ever seeing their faces. They’re probably dead. Better off dead.
He turns his face towards the breeze, although he can’t feel it on his skin, it flutters against his lashes. The light that dares to stretch through the darkness and into the clutches of the early morning is weak, but Caine knows that when it grows stronger he could claim to have survived another sleepless night, and feel the ache in his bones again. He is tired, so tired, and yet when the world beneath him switches and changes, rolling below his feet until it is new and fresh – he feels the same. Different, untouched.
And it feels glorious. ROTHLERCHE, OF THE KELUKS TEMPLATE BY WE WERE INFINITE ! OF CAUTIO 2.0 |
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Post by Tricky on Nov 30, 2012 6:09:27 GMT -5
[style=width:300px; height: 300px; background: url(http://img248.imageshack.us/img248/668/javierheadshot.png)] javier sloel Caine doesn’t sleep. He wonders how the rest of them can, wrapped around each other, content with their nightmares. And he stands here, his eyes sunken and ringed, stardust in their corners and fatigue fresh on his lips. He is envious of them, envious of their ability to put aside all the faces and all the cries. Do they not see them every time they close their eyes. Are they not haunted like he is haunted. He doesn’t regret, if he were to regret anything he’d go mad. So he pushes aside the guilt and focuses on something else entirely. How do they sleep? The night is full of monsters and not all of them have teeth, and Caine is all too aware of how cold the wind is on his skin, although it cannot reach the tender flesh beneath his mask – sore and red and bleeding. That is where it hurts the most. But this night, this night above all others, seems to be so still, as if even the monsters cannot bare to breath. He understands, because he can feel it too. The air is strong, pressure on his chest, squeezing against his heart, crushing the muscle under its weight. He chokes on its thickness every time he opens his mouth. How do they sleep? Oh he knows how. They forget, they drown, they stop believing they are humane and embrace their animalistic lust for blood. They tell themselves they enjoy it. His brothers – his comrades, companions, fellows – they had all addressed themselves with such familiarities but Caine can’t remember ever seeing their faces. They’re probably dead. Better off dead. He turns his face towards the breeze, although he can’t feel it on his skin, it flutters against his lashes. The light that dares to stretch through the darkness and into the clutches of the early morning is weak, but Caine knows that when it grows stronger he could claim to have survived another sleepless night, and feel the ache in his bones again. He is tired, so tired, and yet when the world beneath him switches and changes, rolling below his feet until it is new and fresh – he feels the same. Different, untouched. And it feels glorious. Read more: printsinthesand.boards.net/index.cgi?action=display&board=images&thread=6&page=1#ixzz2Dhf9GPVW[/style] |
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Post by Tricky on Nov 30, 2012 6:16:06 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]
[style=text-align: center]  JAVIER SLOEL [/style][style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: CCCCCC;] Caine doesn’t sleep. He wonders how the rest of them can, wrapped around each other, content with their nightmares. And he stands here, his eyes sunken and ringed, stardust in their corners and fatigue fresh on his lips. He is envious of them, envious of their ability to put aside all the faces and all the cries. Do they not see them every time they close their eyes. Are they not haunted like he is haunted. He doesn’t regret, if he were to regret anything he’d go mad. So he pushes aside the guilt and focuses on something else entirely. How do they sleep? The night is full of monsters and not all of them have teeth, and Caine is all too aware of how cold the wind is on his skin, although it cannot reach the tender flesh beneath his mask – sore and red and bleeding. That is where it hurts the most. But this night, this night above all others, seems to be so still, as if even the monsters cannot bare to breath. He understands, because he can feel it too. The air is strong, pressure on his chest, squeezing against his heart, crushing the muscle under its weight. He chokes on its thickness every time he opens his mouth. How do they sleep? Oh he knows how. They forget, they drown, they stop believing they are humane and embrace their animalistic lust for blood. They tell themselves they enjoy it. His brothers – his comrades, companions, fellows – they had all addressed themselves with such familiarities but Caine can’t remember ever seeing their faces. They’re probably dead. Better off dead. He turns his face towards the breeze, although he can’t feel it on his skin, it flutters against his lashes. The light that dares to stretch through the darkness and into the clutches of the early morning is weak, but Caine knows that when it grows stronger he could claim to have survived another sleepless night, and feel the ache in his bones again. He is tired, so tired, and yet when the world beneath him switches and changes, rolling below his feet until it is new and fresh – he feels the same. Different, untouched. And it feels glorious. Read more: printsinthesand.boards.net/index.cgi?board=images&action=modifypost&thread=6&post=56#ixzz2DhgwDQkN guard captain of arcaian's capitol
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Post by Tricky on Dec 1, 2012 0:34:29 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]
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[/IMG][/div] JAVIER SLOEL [/style] [style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: 262626;] Caine doesn’t sleep. He wonders how the rest of them can, wrapped around each other, content with their nightmares. And he stands here, his eyes sunken and ringed, stardust in their corners and fatigue fresh on his lips. He is envious of them, envious of their ability to put aside all the faces and all the cries. Do they not see them every time they close their eyes. Are they not haunted like he is haunted. He doesn’t regret, if he were to regret anything he’d go mad. So he pushes aside the guilt and focuses on something else entirely. How do they sleep? The night is full of monsters and not all of them have teeth, and Caine is all too aware of how cold the wind is on his skin, although it cannot reach the tender flesh beneath his mask – sore and red and bleeding. That is where it hurts the most. But this night, this night above all others, seems to be so still, as if even the monsters cannot bare to breath. He understands, because he can feel it too. The air is strong, pressure on his chest, squeezing against his heart, crushing the muscle under its weight. He chokes on its thickness every time he opens his mouth. How do they sleep? Oh he knows how. They forget, they drown, they stop believing they are humane and embrace their animalistic lust for blood. They tell themselves they enjoy it. His brothers – his comrades, companions, fellows – they had all addressed themselves with such familiarities but Caine can’t remember ever seeing their faces. They’re probably dead. Better off dead. He turns his face towards the breeze, although he can’t feel it on his skin, it flutters against his lashes. The light that dares to stretch through the darkness and into the clutches of the early morning is weak, but Caine knows that when it grows stronger he could claim to have survived another sleepless night, and feel the ache in his bones again. He is tired, so tired, and yet when the world beneath him switches and changes, rolling below his feet until it is new and fresh – he feels the same. Different, untouched. And it feels glorious. Read more: printsinthesand.boards.net/index.cgi?board=images&action=modifypost&thread=6&post=56#ixzz2DhgwDQkN [/style] guard captain of arcaian's capitol [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Tricky on Dec 7, 2012 5:42:19 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #999999; width:450px; height:490px; padding:0px;][style=width:400px; height:165px; opacity: 0.8; font-family: times; background: url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lh4vjet5IK1qge5lvo1_500.gif)][style=width: 270px; height:100px; background: transparent; float: right; letter-spacing: 4px; font-size:12px; font-family: times; text-shadow: 2px 2px 2px #333333; line-height: 25%;] TELL ME WHAT YOU FIND
WHEN YOU READ MY MIND [style=width: 200px; float: right; background: transparent; text-align; justify; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size:5px; font-family: times; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px #111111; line-height: 80%;]the good old days, the honest man, the restless heart, the promised land, a subtle kiss that no one sees, a broken wrist and a big trapeze. oh well I don't mind, if you don't mind 'cause I don't shine if you don't shine. |
[/color][/style][/style] [style=text-align:center; text-size: 9px;]metzli - shaman of the achup tribe text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text[/style][/style][/center][/td][/tr][/table] this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.[/center] |
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Post by Tricky on Dec 7, 2012 6:09:06 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#002535 ; width:400px; padding:8px; border: 8px solid #04B997;] that's part of it all PART OF THE BEAUTY OF FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU IS THE FEAR YOU WON'T FALL
text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text
metzli
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[/b]- shaman of the achup tribe[/color][/div] this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Joshua Radin. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves! [/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Tricky on Dec 7, 2012 6:18:21 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 1em; -moz-border-radius: 1em; background:#000044] Sometimes I wish for falling, Wish for the release I’ll dance with myself, I drunk myself down, Found people to love, Left people to drown, I'm not scared to jump, I'm not scared to fall, there was nowhere to land, I wouldn't be scared at all…
PUT POST HERE!!!
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