Home.
is where the heart is.
beating profusely,
like a drum,
alive and tender.
shattered.
a word.
a look.
one poignant moment,
lingering longingly.
four walls and a window,
looking far too much like hope.
locked.
broken.
to whom am I speaking?
cracked mirrors don't bring bad luck.
but I do.
Please. Sit.
I am no goddess to pray for
no spring, no ritual, no temple to bring offerings to
I'm not a mountain you climb;
I am a woman who has
seen too many mornings spent on chairs and words spilt
over coffee breakfasts
and watched houses become
hungry mouths for more lives to swallow and regurgitate
as miserable messes over and
over again, while I stand in the
corner waiting for the walls to stop caving in, and the doors
to finally slam shut
I have planted my own land mines
and watched them tear off limbs and hearts and seen
the sores become infected;
see, burning bridges is easy
and they can be rebuilt, but souls are priceless and once
cr
ignorance is a virtue by dreamlandtheories, literature
Literature
ignorance is a virtue
I did not know my glass house was
in fact a store front window display
where my every action is an advertisement
and my words are to be changed and hung
up and thrown out with every season I grow.
When I was younger, I was not aware that
I was a product, a special commodity to be bought
and paid for with chocolates and unzipped pants, and flowers,
to be programmed with only certain phrases and
preapproved emotions, that I am a fantasy but breathing.
How could I have known my education was to consist
of the equation to finding a man, the art of subtlety, the
science to domesticity, and how to write myself as
a book easy enough to read, but
there are some things I can't let go by dreamlandtheories, literature
Literature
there are some things I can't let go
buried you in my ribs and caged your songs
everytime you come back I will feel your voice
ricochet between the fragile pieces that hold me together
and at least my bones are hidden in this shell so that
no one may know I kept you in my heart and that I
am a locket filled with words cut from your lips
bloodied and dead but potent with honeyed conveyance and
sewed into my lining so someday I can say you are a part of me
each syllable a reminder each letter a code to the keys
to closing me tighter around you the notes I took
to remember the melody for each part of me you sang to
liar, liar, pants on fire by dreamlandtheories, literature
Literature
liar, liar, pants on fire
mama's wild child and daddy's worst nightmare
hell broken loose on the playground
sticks and stones yeah, if only it was that
but words stick, and bites get infected, and
everybody's throwing something at someone,
saying the big bad wolf can't blow their house down
cause, yeah, that's what they should be worrying about
in the mean time, the devil gets away and
all that is left is his discarded toy
and rather than fix it up, people talk about how
disgusting it is, and poke and prod it, and says
it was cheaply made anyways, it should've been
been better than what it was, too bad, so sad
not really- just ain't worth saving, and that's life
so yo
you say I have a heart of stone. I say you got it all wrong;
my heart is tender and sore, and will break into a million pieces after being slightly touched by a single word. sometimes that word is a good thing, but it is such a rarity, and I am sorry, I have a bad case of xenophobia, and “good” is such a foreign subject.
whereas you, your body is a pillar, carved with intricacies and designs deep into your skin, but not deep enough, I'm afraid. you are very deceiving, and I would like to think my pleas fill each hole, each notch, until you are finally moved to do something. but, you keep standing still, and I realize how hollow
I am not your Eve. by dreamlandtheories, literature
Literature
I am not your Eve.
I am not your Eve.
I am not of your flesh and bone. I have my own thoughts, and feelings, and dreams, none of which belong to you, and are not subject to your approval. I am not lost or broken. You are not my missing piece.
I was given the gift of free will, just like you were, and I shall wield it as a blade, to cut through your lies and misguided sense of superiority. I am not your slave with the well-hidden chain and shackle; I do not answer to your summons. My body and mind belong to me. I will not have them tainted with antiquity's rejects. The past is the past. I will not hold the blame for your inabilities and lack of progression, no
What most people actually feel by dreamlandtheories, literature
Literature
What most people actually feel
I am.....broken
no- I am
...lost?
I am cliched
a dewdrop on a a perfect red rose
a heart-shaped cloud on a lovers' afternoon
I am all the pretty things you feel for when
you see girls bent over from their non-existent weight
shoulders hunched in pain and bones sharply defined
eyes hungry for sweet word candy capsules to swallow
willing, sliding out their hands for one hallowed touch
before pushing them down their constricted throats
hardly tasting as it's forgotten in their need for more
dusty memories on some stupid shelf
a sticky-note reminding you have a big meeting
the surprise party you have been expecting
I am...ordinary
no- I