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there are days the world feels like a
glass ball in my hands
and I want to break it between my fingers
and let the blood rush over the pieces
like a tidal wave
just so I know I can still feel and
because the world needs to know
I do exist
I have urges to scream
at my mother
at anyone or anything
I am angry but at who or why?
I am unable to say my name
I spend most of my days on my bed
looking into this brightly lit screen
remembering when I had a reason to go outside
when people better disguised their annoyance at me
I don't blame them for my insecurities anymore
last summer I almost killed myself
I wish I wasn't such a coward
secrets are heavy, too heavy
I like to pretend I know what I am reading
but I am too busy looking at my reflection
within the words to see the point
I am scared of being alone, but
I have resigned myself to that future
I have come too far to not accept it
unravelingstrings connect us between
eyes and lips and your
sand coated glass tipped
words falling from parachutes
emergency rations carefully
navigating the politics of you
and me loving and knowing
don't look, don't stare, only
at the ground drawing lines
we don't want to cross or do,
but, divided, our silence crashing
like waves upon the conscious
heartbeat drumming to the erratic
beat of two lovers unloving
mother said it's better to say nothing at allRemember when we were children and we thought we could create an entire language of our own? We'd imagine telling the world our hearts aloud and them never finding our secret arsenal. We had notes planned and tests ready. We were the teachers and the students, the inventors, the engineers. But, forgotten was how the language we already knew could cut the skin and break bones, how the taste of bitterness hid behind words, ready to poison any sentence, any friendship. Serpents dormant on our tongues until we tried to swallow the lashings on our lips. We tried to make something new to replace something we did not understand, and soon we abandoned frivolity. We favored the safety of masks and silence, afraid to summon forth the demons language creates. Instead of learning about our origins and discouraged to continue our imaginings, we feigned ignorance and confirmed to compliance.
this separation is only temporaryI press my lips to the moon and wish her a good day
sweet dreams and sleep tight
I don't want her to be lonely and forgotten
know we are only parted for a moment
and we will meet again when the stars shine
and the shadows grow cold
reach for the stars they saiddead roses in empty bottles-
the manifesto of destitution
desperation, and dirty alleys
the question is not whether to be
or to not to be
but whether we will be or were
were we fools digging for
gold in a dumpster?
looking for beauty in our lies
we all have the potential to be something
but something is just a word, not a life
wanderlustyou belong somewhere between the
ocean and the sun, something evanescent,
continually moving and crossing the beams
connecting reality and the unfathomable,
with the moon shining on and tiding you over
to me in the bright light of the dark,
and then continuing to cross the gulfs
with empty mouths screaming your name
and pouring into ancient forests perpetuated
by lost lore and your sense of loyalty
why are we here?I watch the stars pass by and
I wonder if I am even here at all
as a child, I used to think my life
was written in a story book
screaming for someone to let me out
so I would never have to end
and I never thought
of how I began or what my story was
we're too concerned with the words
we want to finish and yet ignore
the ones we are saying right now
don't care how we present ourselves
obsessed with dying and it's beauty
afraid of living and of what makes it ugly
are we even living?
do the stars care if we're here?
do they even notice us?
no matter what I tell myself,I wish beauty didn't cost so much
my fingertips, dipped in tan liquid
painting my chin, eyes, and cheekbones
hiding the spots, the dips, the morning
blooming on my face
ready for that 3am coffee stop, the eight hours
of nothing in the back corner of the store
the perfect picture of a distorted image
cracked glass under a fresh coat of war paint
and they dare tell me gorgeous, pretty, like their
overused words are good enough payment
like I am getting my self-worth back
from this toxic investment
as if pain is only a dropped penny in the street
washed down a drain and forgotten in the rain
but each stroke as I brush my hair reminds me,
each knot and snarl jarring me to reality
my nose is too long, my face too square and I
look freakish whenever I put my soft curls up
and those ten, fifteen, twenty pounds I gained
stole away my figure like a runaway child....
I wish beauty didn't hurt so much
your heart (...)Girls
hearts are not like candy,
you can't buy them at a store, and
they are not meant to be eaten-
watch those assholes choke on bad blood
and the memories you want to forget-
you have a priceless jewel in your chest
and it's the key to your soul
treat it like you would your mother or sister;
love it and watch it grow old
bury it in a coffin and have a memorial each year
to commemorate the sacrifices it made
cherish it and the flowers it grew
Skyline MuseSkyline Muse
vistas of sylvan charms
cross my vision as we drive through art,
a mural of green flags
across a watercolor(ed) canvas.
with her arm out the window
the wind holding her tresses
in a tempestuous tenure,
she looks back at me
and flashes her beaming smile
as we drive towards the peak
aiming to hit the highest mark.
the gravel road rolling under turning tires,
we move up and up,
the sun falling the higher we go.
we always envisioned arriving here at sundown
and it’s yawning now,
so it’s only a matter of time
before it must tuck itself in for the night.
so when we reach crown of the mountain
and park the hardtop near the edge of the crest.
jewel encrusted skies tease auburn blankets
as the stars are finally materializing incarnate,
it’s almost heavenly to see the body
merge from fervor markers to cool ink.
the draft was a signal of the art just beginning,
feet moving across clay as we dangle soles
over the edge of the earth as the day
puts on its hoodie
twenty-threescars are like tattoos
no matter how
they got there, you still
like the look of them.
twenty-twoyou aren't supposed to bury your children.
but if you're the one that killed them,
i guess it doesn't matter
little thingsI don’t want to be the wind beneath your wings
or any other monumental things
I wish to be feathers
(a hand to hold,
a gaze to meet
a place at night
to dream in peace)
so you can still fly
HappyWake up be positive
Going to have an amazing day
Watching my babies is going to be a joy
Even if I have to force myself I am going to be happy today
Not going to worry about anything but being with my little family
intentyou didnt mean that
dont say things you dont mean
things like that
theyll catch up to you
your heart isnt the only one hurting
so dont try to hurt another
its probably already been done
but it still hurts
you meant it?
i dont think you did
you wouldnt mean something like that
you wouldnt feel something like that
how could you say something like that
you loved her
i still do
i know it didnt work out
it ended pretty badly actually
to be honest id hate to be you right about now
but dont just
pass that onto someone else
that horrible feeling
is it only mine?
what do you mean its her fault?
are you listening to yourself?
you sound like an idiot
a cruel idiot
why would you say that
where is your heart
look what youve done
look what youve caused
this didnt have to happen
it didnt have to be like this
it didnt have to end like this
things could have been different
You are not a loneHey you
I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone
You may be going through some hard shit and you think no one in the world is going through some hard times
But I bet if you ask anyone they have gone through the same thing or maybe worse
I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone
You do not have to go down a road that I went through
Don't pick up that bottle or the pills Don't use a razor or think of suicidal
Right now you might think that no one will give a fuck if you take your own life
But I bet plenty of people will care even if they do not act like it
I just wanted to let you know that you are not a lone
It will get better I promise might take a while but it will
It might also get worse but it will always get better
You are not a lone
DaisyHere lays a flower;
A daisy so fragile
Broken and torn beyond repair.
Here lays a shard;
Of her broken, broken heart
It's left her with nothing but despair.
Here, lay her body,
Her tiny shrivelled body,
To be swallowed by the earth
That which had birthed her.
I love you
I know at times we have not been close
But I am glad that we are getting closer
I know that you have gone through a lot of stuff but I just wanted to tell you that I am proud of you that you got the courage to do what you had to do
I am glad that you are finally happy
I love you
LucyHer eyes lit with hope
The dark oppressing the single flame
Small boots loud on the wooden floor
Quietly making her way through the winding halls
She searches for the one room.
"Nonsense" they told her "Quit lying"
They did not believe her, they did not even listen!
They could no longer be curious
The war had taken their innocence, their childhood
Not her, she would not let go
She would hold on, fight with nail and tooth
She would war with War, and she would win
Her world would be her weapon
She found the doorway
Crept into the thick darkness
No life was thrumming this time
It was just her and the small flame of hope
It was enough to cast a light pallor
Unto the gleaming mahogany
Her breath quickened, her heart stuttered
Her hands shook as she twisted the dull brass
The wood opened before her
A cool breath blew out the flame
Her eyes widened felicitously
Hope thrived in this dark room
She entered the wood
To embrace her innocent destiny
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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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