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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."
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
the certainty of imminencei.
tomorrow spills over
inevitability-rapt and enveloping,
as wakefulness startles,
i'm caught up in past-time
i forge(t) myself in oblivion
midnight so hollow,
we all stop
with the clocks.
nothing looks the way it did
and i guess it seems
i'm blinkered, brevity-bound
in century footsteps forever stumbling,
always being blindsided
by the passing
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate app
ScienceI am more than my
F L A W S;
a masterpiece of
S C A R S
a delicacy of
D R E A M S
a sculpture of
B O N E S
R E A C T I O N
a well of
A broken heartI promised myself I'll never fall in love
Whenever I fall in love I feel renewed and happy
But like a drug
Once everything finishes
I'm crying, depressed and the wreckage of my heart
I always end up feeling worse
I want to find someone that is special
But I'm afraid to suffer again
I'm afraid of losing another person
Do not want to suffer
Do not make me suffer, do not lie to me
Do not hurt me, no more
I will not hold on to people who only sink me
I'll be free and live with have left
A cold and lonely spirit.
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