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Untitled.sing to me
in your ocean tide voice.
crash into me. hurtle your stones
and sea shells
against my skin and make me sway.
hold on to me
with your straying grasp. collide
your runaway train into mine.
don't end the sentence of my existence
with a question mark.
sleep with me.
give me space-time-synesthesia
so i can see the clock encircle me,
the calender sheets.
so i can recall what you have to do last tuesday
and did tomorrow.
when i see you
i really see you
walk with me.
slip your twitching fingers into the spaces
between mine. we may not fit 'perfect'
but we fit 'all right.'
dance for me.
bend your body in
skeletal origami. take me by the hand
and fold me a paper crane.
peel me away, layer after layer
till i am too light to fly,
blow in between my folds and set me
your thunderclouds and make me
sway. sway, to the breeze of your
starry night meadow. silence your oceans
and still flinch at the deafening roar.
hush my hurricanes, hush.
Addictionyou are forever
and i am dying. you
are a book that starts
with no beginning. the star
that was never high enough
to fall. the dream never lucid enough
to hold. you are
the sticks and stones
that could've broken my bones
but took me home
you are forever
and i am dying. you
are the sky that
could've fallen. the page
that could've been turned.
the flame never bright enough
to be put out.
you are the broken watch
ticking, clicking, wishing
for the end of thinking
next to nothing.
you are forever
and i am dying. you
are the rope around my neck
the death of me.
with every breath in me
i call for you
wondering if you
the whole truth.
you are forever
and i am dying
to touch you
to love you
to wait for the end of time to be with you.
i can spend the rest of my life with you
but you can't spend the rest of yours with me.
i want to be the beginning of your book
the height of your star
the strength of your dreams.
i'm ripping open my hearts' bloody seams.
you are f
Can't phrase a sentence right.i have always wanted to write. writing, it’s, it’s one of those things that strips you of race, gender and culture and the only thing you’re judged on is the way that your words glide through the air, planting a kiss on every corner of the room when you say them. writing is one of those things that can be so moving when said that even the crevices in cracking plaster walls smile and whisper, “hey, that was beautiful.”
writing, it just kind of asks you to lend it your heart so it can paint words that are true and as soaked in dreams and hope as your blood is. it isn’t just words on a page, no, it is so much more. it’s lyrical origami, it’s poetry that makes diamonds shrivel in distaste as they wait to reach that state of perfection, it's a song that can be read in soundless space and still be heard with music in the background. it’s line after line of nothing but a collection of letters that don’t deserve to be called words sim
Just for a heartbeat.“i will never be the hero. don’t you understand that? i will never wear a cape and fly around town, saving people. i will never get a medal from the mayor of wherever. i will never be a hero. i can’t fly or shoot beams out of my eyes. i’m not even an 'average' hero that walks to work. i’m nobody. i’m a freak and everybody knows it. i’m a freak with fake broken pieces in me because i’m so pathetic i can’t even make my self up out of anything but lies. i’m a freak and no freak was ever a 'hero'. i’m a bloody lighthouse and i can’t just become a wave crashing at the shoreline. i just can't disappear. i’m not a hero. i’ll trip over my cape and kill someone. if that’s heroism then i’m on top of the world but, by definition, that doesn’t count. i’m a screw-up that will never do things right. i’m a screwed-up freak and that doesn't count... i don't coun
As long as anywhere was far enough.instead of a prison cell, he thought of it like a bird cage. it was his bird cage. we were imprisoned in three concrete walls that laughed at us and one lined with iron bars for the others to join in until we could bear no more mockery for the teenage sins we committed. while the rest of us screamed and cursed, crying out loud for the endless laughter to stop, he did nothing. he never did anything but twist metaphors and similes into ribbons he wrapped in every heartbeat and though the bitter hated it, i couldn’t help but find it his way of coping because he saw himself as a bird. a bird with the will to fly far away from the cage it was held captive in because we all saw this world as a chessboard or a game of scales but he wanted to believe there was something more, that there was something after the king had fallen to a pawn. he wanted to believe this world was something he could fly away from. that it was something that could wait for him and slow down when the time was
We were eternal.The body attacked itself. The mind forgot things. The eyes became sightless and limbs became immobile. The heart stopped beating. The blood stopped flowing. The fingers began sh-sh-shaking. The head became weightless. The hair weakened and fell. The bones began weakening and made us fall. The tongue refused to paint words in the air. The breath froze over. The heart stopped beating. The skin receded into a shrivel. The body bent over and hid in shame. The lungs stopped breathing. The heart stopped. The blood dried up. The bones stood strong but the flesh was lost. The corpse decayed. The life was gone.
But we were eternal. But we were forever. We were matter into energy. We could not be destroyed. We could not be created. We were there. We weren't everlasting. We weren't forever. But we were eternal. But we were eternal. We were supposed to be eternal.
On lockdown“Karah. My name is Karah. I am not Alice. I am Karah. I am Karah, Karah, Alice doesn’t exist.”
In those few seconds, Alice could let herself slip into a blanket of quiet. For some time, she wasn’t Alice anymore. She wasn’t weak or alone. She wasn’t hurt or broken. She wasn’t a thousand pieces of shattered glass lying on the floor trying to mend itself to form the perfect mirror it had once been. If only for a moment, she was whole. She wasn’t a runaway train. If only for a moment, she was on the right track, zooming at high speeds, safely, not colliding, not crashing. She was beautiful. Her scarred skin shed and now, she was beautiful. Her skin was painted in a hundred colors and her eyes shone as if star dust had found safe haven among her tears. She felt for the scar beneath her eyes and found nothing. She wasn’t Alice anymore. She was Karah. She was whole. She was complete. It had been so long since she had last felt so perfectly
Colors only i could seeas a child, my world was full of colors only i could see. my whole world feels like nothing but a collection of memories i can only remember, memories i can no longer go back to in hope of escape. sleeplessness made up about half of those memories. the night was a blanket my dragon friends wrapped me into before cradling me to sleep in their wings, the sound of their conjoined heartbeats thick and dreamy against my ears. it was the sound of immortal strength and a creation i had formed from nothing. it was mine. it was all mine. it was all mine to keep.
Ajax and Aya were my warriors of choice. they were “colored in Satan’s brightest flames” , they had once said. they were majestic, they were beautiful, they were everything. he, she and i rode into the night and we kissed the stars so lightly yet so deeply that there was no such thing as “farewell”, there was only, “until next time.” when Ajax and Aya were off, Peter took me to Neverland and i s
I'll make it.i've never really known how to reply to "how are you?" because how do you describe years of pain and an eternity of time you need to heal it in anyway that could properly express the helplessness of floating in space, not knowing where you're going and not knowing what you are and if you'll make it to wherever you have to go? how do you emphasize it into pity and self dwelling enough for people to notice you have no one and that even gravity refuses to hold you to the ground and that you need some strength to stand tall enough for it to help you stand straight before you go off floating into empty space not knowing when you'll have a second chance to say 'help me'?
i've never really know how to reply to "how are you?" but i've learned to lie and fool polygraphs by stating, "i'll make it. i'll make it on my own."
You're worth so much moreShe was the type
to cut her wrists,
and then swallow the
because looking at what
was even harder
but I want to tell her
to let the emotions
p i l
out of her mouth,
instead of her
and that I'll gladly
let the words slice me,
if it means
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
A note for people who need a kind wordJust a note,
For anyone who has felt,
Like they have been broken.
Just like an old toy.
Thrown and tossed around like a rag doll.
To anyone who feels,
They re tearing at their seams.
And they re losing all control.
A note to the little girl,
And waited for her mother.
Or her father.
To come back home,
To keep her safe,
While she cried.
Or to at least of said goodbye.
And wishes they d come back and tell her,
A note to the lonely boy.
So quiet and reserved.
Who sits and takes their cruel words.
Thinking it s what he deserved.
To be thrown into lockers,
And thinking he can find something better,
With the company of a razor,
Rather than a human.
Because humans have caused him more hurt,
Than the blades that pierce his skin.
A note to the beautiful girls.
Who walk for miles,
Until they have blisters on their feet.
Because they will not accept the defeat,
Of having to see numbers,
That tell them they are not worthy.
They are not pretty.
And they should not be living.
If they c
You're beautifulPlease eat.
Are you listening to me?
If you are,
I want to tell you.
You re beautiful.
It doesn't matter what you weigh,
you shouldn't feel guilty about what you ate.
It doesn't matter,
I promise you things will get better.
Listen to my words,
Hold my hand.
Don't worry about the rest of the world,
It's okay if they don't understand,
How it feels like,
To feel fat,
To feel ugly,
To feel worthless.
You are none of those things.
It s okay to be chubby,
It s okay to be skinny.
Because you have a big heart.
And your smile,
Is like a priceless work of art.
And I don't want to see you destroy,
Because you're more than just a broken toy.
And to everyone else,
So for once let yourself be,
Accept your reflection.
Because you are the definition of perfection.
So don't worry,
Don't be sorry,
To be who you are.
Because you re,
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
What is Hope?Hope is something we have as children,
It helps us thrive and try our hardest.
Hope is what we express in the worst of times
When all hope seems lost.
Hope is what people possess in life
To work toward our dreams.
Hope is a lie
That's not worth our time.
AnxietyAnxiety tapping on my door,
"Can I come inside your head?"
I shiver, not ready for its visit.
It charges in, smelling of worry.
Spends a morning, afternoon and night,
playing with my emotions.
A marionette dancing its old tune on rough strings.
Leaves me winded and praying to beat it the next time.
I Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger TogetherI Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger Together
if i’m being completely honest,
i can’t say i know what you’re goin’ through.
and if i’m being frank,
i’m sort of afraid to write this
because i’ve always been unsure
if i love too much but it’s my nature
and i’d rather lose by trying too hard
than to do so without doing enough.
i hope you’re asleep now
and i hope you don’t read this
till the morning and i hope by then
things will be a little lighter
but i’m hoping against hope
because if you don’t know,
i feel when things are off.
call it intuition, call it a feelin’,
say i just know it.
my friend, my door is always open
even when you’re feeling closed
off to the world and right there,
i can understand that feeling well,
because i still feel we relate to one another
better than most brothers understand their sisters.
know i look at you as a sibling
and i believe we know when the other
I miss youYou are a ghost in my head
Living, yet you haunt my thoughts today
To speak your name
Would be to desecrate this space
Where you are, I should not care to know
But you are a never-healing wound
An unfulfilled promise
A chance to do no wrong
My memories burn with your taste, your touch, your smell
Who have I become?
Too long have the years been to me
To find myself wishing for the crossroads
For the chance to say no, one more time.
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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