|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Day 244She has her wings now, frail like a butterflies.
But, she wears them proudly, as she shines
in this glittered spectrum of her new self.
She's almost near her inner perfection.
Becoming the one thing she has always dreamed of.
Taking more interest in her self,
she realizes that she can finally fly.
She sees that she isn't a stupid winged creature.
She is an intelligent and beautiful butterfly.
And now that she knowsknowsknows,
she's ready to take flight.
Day 243It feels so nostalgic to be holding papers written
in my fourth grade hand and looking through photos
at a girl who never really stood a chance at love.
I was innocent; with awards and straight A's and the ability
to turn a phrase and keep too many journals.
I wrote poems and drew on the sides of my notebooks.
And there were stories about wishes for cherry rain
and taking my mother out to dinner.
I had loved my mother.
And happiness didn't lay in my heart for myself, but for everyone else.
With the only hate on a misconstrued view of my dear father.
And during those days, I kept notes that belonged to others
and little messages were scribbled onto the corners of my papers.
"Julian's head is so big" or odd mumblings that
won't ever make sense to me now.
And as I look back at these phases of my life,
I begin to wonder and almost miss this stranger that was me before.
Day 242I'm tripping over myself aimlessly
and trying to find some stability.
I'm losing control of my thoughts and footing
as each step is a step
towards another mistake.
The world is sloping downwards
and this hill is becoming dangerously steep.
I can feel myself tumbling along,
waiting for the world to just disappear beneath me.
My emotions are at an angle,
too sharp and too odd for my own good.
I'm suffering from the projections of my mood;
I'm dropping in degrees with each foot.
And as I walk, there's no direction,
no destination to steer me to better places.
And I know I'm going to lose
myself to these drastic life changes.
Day 241I want to tear a hole into my chest;
where my heart beats
and myself drowns within a mess.
I'm dying on the inside
and I want everyone to see.
My fingers poking out of my lungs,
my hands aching to be reached.
I'm calling out for help,
scribbling words into my skin.
Cut, carve and curl my edges,
until every space and every crevice and every crack
is filled with pointless ramblings.
I'm so broken.
And a monster eats away at my thoughts.
Chewing down my common sense,
until I slowly wither and rot.
I'm an almost complete nothing,
trying to hold on, but feeling myself slip.
If only my dreams weren't of kissing within fires
and drowning within oceans
and the moon crushing my very being,
perhaps I would be able to pull myself back up again.
Day 240I'm an achy-breaky- mess again.
Coloring outside the lines in blue hues.
I'm scribbling myself in tired circles,
digging the crayon into my paper skin.
A well marked misshapen reminder
that my life is just a shape.
One that doesn't ever end
and continues to meet up at the corners.
And when I'm crumpled around the edges,
torn and broken and crinkled in the mind,
my thoughts and feelings get tossed about aimlessly,
thrown out with the rest of life.
Because I'm simply blown over,
dragged under and forgotten.
I'm just this little Miss Piece of Waste
that's put out in the trash when no longer wanted.
Day 239There's a fear for every fellow;
my heart is bound to feeling scared for others.
While he drowns within a pool of sharks,
I'm trying to save another from a bottomless pit.
So dark and alarming,
all I can do is panic.
I reach out before she falls
and watch while he tries to fit in.
I'm trying to save everyone,
but inside my head I know it's too much.
My memories scratched down the walls of my conscience,
and I'm trying to ignore the marks.
But, my heart tends to fail me
and I can't stand my own wits.
I'm trying and trying and trying
to fight my fears for them,
even though I surely won't win.
And as my temple crumbles
and my walls come crashing down.
I will surely drown within my fears again
because since the beginning,
that is where my heart has been bound.
Day 238Let me take your words
and tie them with pretty little bows.
for your papers and feelings.
I don't care for their meanings.
I just want to dress them up and pretend I can stand them.
And you ask me why I'm dancing so slow,
twirling a knife and carving into my soul.
I'm taking you out.
I'm removing you from my chest.
I don't want you to be a part of my past.
And you watch me curl and fall to the floor,
a throwing of foul words and feelings vomitted.
You make me sick.
And I'm so tired of all of this.
I just want to take your hits and be done with it.
Day 237Go ahead and just let go. I'm
Over trying to hold
On to you and your hand. I
Don't want to be your friend.
Boy, let's stop playing pretend. It's not like
You really believed we were friends to begin with. And
Eventually you were willing to say goodbye someday.
Day 236You have me chasing you through my dreams
trying to hold onto something that just has no hope.
We are racing down dark hallways with too many doors.
I don't know which one to open.
I'm afraid of the memories each one holds.
And you can't quite grasp why I grow tired
of trying to get you to understand.
My words aren't enough.
And the distance to you changes everything we had.
I wish you could see that this friendship is a pile of dust.
A mess of my fallen words that slipped off my tongue.
I want to cut, cut, cut them into my skin.
Try to comprehend them.
Memorize and understand.
Because I can't quite figure out where things got out of hand.
And you can only whisper me your sorrys,
trying to give me something to hold onto.
But, I'm done, done, done.
I'm no longer wanting to be your friend,
when you clearly have proven to me that from the beginning,
I really wasn't one.
The Boy Who Wouldnt EatIf you can flutter
I have failed you,
for you were not forged
to be so insubstantial as that
You were writ
to be an epic fable
of endings ignored,
of outlasting your body
through the sheer will
of a writers starving heart
through a broken, bowed
but bravely abiding body
that fights the soul
to comprehend Beauty.
................written in a frenzy and run-on
and exclamation points
used in rapid succession
words all blurred
so bare bones it's bloody
strung out and on display
in a frightening combination
of paragraphs and stanzas
punctuation gone mad
ellipses my new black
used and abused
then spit out
in gratuitous repetition
there is no word count here
no hearts dotting the i's
just a string of letters
done up in cursive
but not very pretty at all
you're just a question marki met you so long ago
but back then our bodies were made of metal
and nowadays they’re made of the blades of
grass and dirt settling
underneath my fingernails.
my fingers are having a hard time
reaching the keys and
my organs are shaking mostly because i haven’t
eaten in two days but also
because i’m worried about the things you're doing to yourself.
we didn’t meet very long ago at all but it feels like forever ago
and you say you don’t know me
that you don’t know anyone
but baby you're turning into a skeleton and i’m peeling back my skin
to try and reach my bones, just like you.
i hope you're happy,
i’m covering the hard wood floors now
the bits and pieces splattered.
they are calling it a suicide but i’m calling it
a way to see my brain and
just how dark it has become, and honestly
i don’t want you to try and see about your’s.
i’m mourning the loss of my heart and wish you weren’t either -
Sound PoemIthrumden, ithrumden delsum
nith mul thruss elmrissull.
Eth rut mundelliss
Curmiette dessel renrin
irme trell ithrumden.
To Be ThinYour eyelashes fall
on tablecloth cheekbones;
fine, white linen,
to an unsustainable point.
Your tears spill
and stain the cloth,
of grey, of grey,
spoiling that unattainable dream.
The partyFlashing lights
Smoke all around
About to pass out
My head starts to hurt
I can't take this anymore
So without saying anything
I find the exit
And escape that place
"How can someone have fun in there?"
Fearing MeI'm not afraid to cry
and I do it
a lot more than you would guess.
It isn't always sadness,
I just feel like I need to,
feel everything so strongly
that it's the only way
to let go for a moment
because if I hold on for too long,
if my grip gets too tight
I'll break myself,
I will break you like glass
and we will both
I am a good guy
who hasn't yet found a way
to show it,
I am a good guy
who still identifies with the villains,
hides everything important
anything to throw you
off of my trail....
and I don't know why,
but I am trying.
Maybe I think
that if you could see me,
the real me,
you wouldn't want to look anymore,
want to be anywhere near me,
and the idea
that I can't add up
to be enough for you,
to be enough for me,
is so fucking heart breaking
I can hardly fathom it.
I can't say that it doesn't hurt
because it does,
it hurts a whole hell of a lot,
I've come to depend on pain,
to befriend misery
Coming HomeComing down the ramp I spotted you in the crowd
Your tenderloin skin always stands out
Your aura was particularly bright that day
Whirling dervish colors in the pale sun
You wore a chauffeurs cap and held a sign that said “Anyone”
I knew that I wasn’t anyone, so I walked away
“Strange days,” someone said, and I agreed
I hate crowds and old garbled memories
Arriving home, my wife and cat didn’t recognize me
I looked in the mirror and noticed that I was someone else
Still carrying my old baggage, I turned away
I should have taken your limo
~days eat days
like I eat potato chips
on a couch whose
springs have thrown out
their backs no longer able
to hold even the remote up.
it sinks between the seats like
I do every lonely saturday night
or every evening I can’t quite
make it to bed, cupped with
similar back problems,
a similar sag.
I’ve begun to
take after my furniture.
"the only unattractive curve,"
a girl once said to me with a few
desirable curves herself,
"is the one a person develops
in their back.”
we dated for a month and
she called me her
hunchback of notre dome
(it’s dame, babe.)
and I called her beautiful.
and nothing else.
but somehow her leaving did nothing
to straighten my bent back but
only managed to deepen
my parenthetical stance on
those who love me
(they don’t exist).
Day 116You try to fool me with all your lies,
covering up a face so strange.
But, I know what you're like on the inside,
and I find the monster beautiful anyways.
You say your bad luck walking my way,
and I just dismiss it all with a kiss.
I don't care for such superstititions,
I just live for what is and this.
You try to convince me that you're not worth it,
and you throw words that are never too nice.
But, I keep holding on like crazy,
because I can relate to living a difficult life.
You say you don't understand my actions,
and you pry me with questions and obscene words.
I just tell you it's very simple darling,
that I am the only one who can see your worth.
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More