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UntitledI have the thought that if I can run
fast enough, I will forever forge ahead of the night,
hovering on the thin line that breaks in two
the dark that races behind me, and what I chase: my sun.
I could(/should/would) fly to you on wings cemented
from my shoulders all the way down to my hips.
You place your hands gentle on my hips
and you say, "It is with you that I run.
I could(/should/would) keep you, cemented.
I am not your brave and valiant Knight,
I am only a dull and dying sun,
but you and me (like all good things) come in two(s)."
I say, "You are not a dull-and-dying sun; too
bright is what you are. Your hands gentle on my hips
give warmth greater than what our sun
can provide. One day I will find the means to run
with you." It is in the oblivion of night
we learn we keep each other here; cemented.
In the early morning I get up and sit on the cool, cement
sidewalk outside of your house. You join me and we are two
again. We are binary stars orbiting each other day and ni
Say a Little Prayerthere are days i feel i have made a fatal mistake
in doubting the existence i'm twisted within.
take me closer to the flame held in others
but no longer treasured in myself.
i'm far from this fire, why are the rest so warm?
i'll take my fist and punch holes in the sky,
drag down clouds to weave into prayers
and throw my doubts to the stars.
if i were to fall backwards into you,
would you catch me in my leap of faith?
who am i to challenge God?
It's Raining, It's Pouringit starts to rain
and rain and rain
i am drizzling meaningless words
and equally meaningless feelings.
i am creating storms inside myself,
there's lightning blazing in my eyes.
i have thunder in my lungs
and hurricanes in my head.
i hold the heat of lightning-bolts, burning.
i can braid our fingers into tornadoes,
our bodies into heat-lightning.
promise me not to create a clamor
with your thunder as i sleep.
it starts to rain
and rain and rain
InkYou found me as
A mess of sharp corners
Someone had wadded me up
And shoved me in the corner,
Trying to forget about
Our shared past.
I guess you were curious
Enough to take a second look,
Smoothing out the worst of the
And speaking soothingly.
You said you could fix it.
And for a while, you did.
I became smoother,
And some of the rips knitted together.
I was still a bit smudged
By my past,
And had some sharp edges.
They made me
And I had a crazy personality,
An odd writing style,
And a habit of not looking
People in the
Those made me
Had other plans.
You made me blunt my corners,
Straighten my lines,
And rip clean my ragged edges.
You made me look at you,
And made me bleed down
To the horizontal blue lines
Of my soul.
Red ink washed the lines away
And grew formless in your hands.
I displeased you,
And you crumpled me up,
And shoved me in my old,
Why couldn't you realiz
vices.there's hell in your eyes, painting them black cesspits that could eat away the stars.
you tell me you need out of your head. the moon pulls higher in the sky, quietly marking the hour. our feet hang over empty air, the tracks below an open casket. you inhale nicotine and exhale burning buildings. smoke curls like fingers into the body of the night.
we're breaking like an ocean. eggshells on pavement.
i can't hold you together,
so you down handfuls of little white pills like peppermint candies.
like if you just keep swallowing, they'll whitewash the walls of your ribcage and purge your dirty heart.
you drink like you're always thirsty,
like you've found the antidote to forgetting.
instead, i hold matches to the dry tinder of my parchment skin to see if it catches fire
to burn down the gosttown of all the things i can't forget.
i dig trenches in my skin to leak out poison pulsing in my veins and the dirty swingset in my bones.
we both have memories we can't kill.
the black in our
PersephoneI fed her
and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.
With cracks in my heart
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.
Summers Lost god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember.
to sewer lines:
like a wish
on a dead star.
the feeling of gritted teeth
and fingers crossed
until they break.
like a scalpel
and a brick wall
against my throat.
and i was
when i said,
swallowing cinder blocks;
stuffing steel under skin.
on my cheek,
like book pages:
"where have you been?"
Happiness and How To Find It
Today happiness has gone down 35 points,
While sadness is up 43 points,
Which is a record high for this year.
Today the president announced a bold new initiative
In order to generate happiness,
He's shipping in 100,000 puppies in from overseas.
Projections indicate that those puppies could
boost happiness by as much as 30%.
President: "America needs happiness. When you
Want happiness, you don't sit around and wait for it."
The national party of Life Fulfillment issued a statement
Today claiming that the president should be
Placing an emphasis on long term happiness,
And that this is only a temporary fix,
As those puppies will only be regular dogs in a year.
Andrew Socolovoyich, house min. leader: "America
Needs long term solutions. The president should
Be encouraging citizens to pick up a hobby. It's not as
Fun as puppies maybe, but people with hobbies
Usually live rich, happy lives."
And in local news: Have you ever wondered what
It would be like to live without happiness at all?
we were found beneath the seai've been meaning to tell you
(i swear i have)
i'm hopelessly addicted to throwing
messages in bottles
and losing them
the milky way.
i had once thrown them across the mid-
-length of seas
but then you would
and leave them,
much like the nights you found
rhythm in my
i found your messages
(i swear i have)
i'm tired of shooting seagulls
and watch them fly
the milky way.
i had once chased them shouting mid-
-length of the sea
but then you would
write a letter,
throw it to me,
and windowsill sit,
much like the night you found
poetry on my
and then i found verses
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i thought you stopped
yelling metaphors to keep me
i just thought you'd
stop painting your dreams
on my salty
i wrote fabricated honesty
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i wanted to whisp
Insert Title _1We, the petty,
we, the bourgeois,
poring over mirrors of reflected, collected verse,
only we could drown
in the shallow pools of our own desires.
Self-worth and efficacy distort, distend,
Our longing sighs inflate
gauzy bladders, diaphanous,
and we fancy them substantial because they are large -
(We say much the same of our philanthropy.)
- seeking no synonyms,
though "bloated" comes to mind.
A pseudonym can shelter
the sodden intellect, emaciated,
denigrated by false modesties.
How deep, the brainy poet
who breathes his own despite
behind alabaster walls,
sherry perched atop whalebone fingers,
sloshing like the contents of his skull.
scar-crossed(my fingers are colder than the solemn blue
buried in her eyes. so much dead beauty,
like an ocean without waves).
she is fading and i cling to her,
and in this tiny little moment
we barely even exist.
you need to have a plan...so here's to
to some forgotten shore.
2. fall desperately in love with
i. the ocean
ii. the sky
iii. the honey sunrise and
iv. the steelgray winter dawn.
soul-deep into the water and
4a. search out the requisite words
i. from behind white and blue curtains
ii. and underneath clam shells
iii. and in the wakes of fishing boats, and
4b. pluck them from the ceaseless
scrawls of sunlight
against the slopes of waves.
5. make time for
ii. and other
everything to feari sat alone with the turntable on,
speakers releasing a forgotten song
while rain hit the windows
as if to sing meekly along.
the cat wailed from a faraway place
and trotted all through the house
just to lay by my side.
the record came to an end
as the storm grew fierce
and the needle clicked as it continued
to spin. i raised my hand to my mouth
and pretended to smoke, pressed a finger
to my wrist and pretended to slice,
but i'm no good as an actress
so it didn't quite do the trick.
rain lashed at the windows
and as lightning broke apart the sky,
i felt there was everything to fear.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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