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hope is in all of us.i want to shed this snake skin
over and over until
i am raw, and new, and alive again.
i want to sew my eyes shut
and be blind until
there is something worth seeing.
i want to hibernate through this era
and stay asleep until
the next ice age comes
and the slate of this planet
has been wiped clean,
i want to begin again,
i want to change,
i want to transform into something
that can survive her own mind.
i want to escape,
i want to run away,
i want to create something new.
i want to be found in every lonely soul-mate,
in every last goodbye,
in every broken home,
in every single person,
under 'new-found hope.'
fear of life.i have not a fear of death,
a definitive end does not
entice the dark recesses of my mind.
my real fear is so much harder to hide,
a fear of the opposite, a fear of life.
you couldn't understand, you
take comfort in the feeling of
your heart beatbeatbeating
and in the rush of blood
through your young veins
you embrace life, constantly
being grateful just for being
alive. but i, i just don't.
i can't, really. my chest shudders
as i pull in breath. it only calms
at the attack of nicotine,
my blood sloshes lazily through
the hollows of my veins. it only rushes
at the prick of the needle.
these warnings of impending
death are the only comfort.
soft spoken with a broken jaw.and i can feel my mind whispering to my heart,
you strengthen that which you fight.
and it persists, what you resist.
i know it,
but i can't seem to
rip my grasp
from the burning iron.
the pain is tangent,
this is not.
the scars are answers,
this is the question.
i couldn't voice it if you asked me.
but you begged.
and i tried to
force the words
from my throat,
but i don't have a gag reflex.
house of wolvesand the snakes are in my skin
underneath, the sin is sewn in,
my bones drip deceit and unhappiness
i can lie for a time but
wont you please just let me in
accept me for who i am
i can share all the skin you want
but i don't have a heart for you to stop
i'm afraid i don't have a heart
for you to haunt
but i can lie for a time
if you'll please just let me in
into your bed, under your skin,
i cant fall asleep in your arms
but i can make your head spin
i'm sorry if i wasn't what you were looking for
but it was you who knocked on that door
saying, love, please just let me in,
into your heart and your heart i'll win
i couldn't make you see
that there is no heart within
but i lied for a time
i faked what you couldn't find
i forgot my conscience in the dark
i hurt a friend and left my mark
so tell me, what's the price
of forsaking love to fill a vice?
some die lookin' for a hand to hold.and this storm has been raging for weeks,
but you gave me your eyes, you didn't see.
we loved the same way a symphony crescendos,
softly at first, all smooth skin and gentle whispers.
and then so loud, it hits you harder than death.
you cant sleep at night, choking on sobs and crying out like a banshee,
the unmistakable call of those all alone in love.
to wash away and away and away.i watched the rain melt my car away
it flowed into the spillway,
with all the fish and a stingray.
my street is flooded and it's flushing
all my bad dreams into pipe drains
but they don't quite fit
like how my bones don't sit right in my skin
the rain water seeped down beneath it
and under my sinew to fill a girl who
doesn't think right with thoughts
of evaporation and polarization,
no memory of this medication or my hospitalization,
i stopped worrying about time zones or cell phones
rain is more than the weather, clouds mean more than
"you should put on a sweater," and air currents
were there when you weren't and birds sang before buildings
saplings grew before the airplanes flew
the wind blew through the seasons changed
and the sun rose before the earth was even composed
but i am not the sun or the clouds, i'm just a girl
stuck in this town who can barely keep her feet
on the ground, who barely knows up from down
much less where any sort of answers are found
so i sit on my driveway a
anxiety. [full up.]and i'm all full up
with that feeling.
you know the one.
it pretends to have a cause.
but it's useless.
and it clings to my bones
like a sinewy second skin.
i tear at the flesh
with my nails and teeth and blades
but i can never get it off.
and i'm full up
with that feeling.
it leaves no room for oxygen
in my lungs
so i drown.
i drown and it
with boney fingers
d o w n.
until i can't see the surface,
i can't see the sun.
and i'm full up
with that feeling.
its pitch black
i don't know how
long it holds me
but just as i
against its claws
i am gulping in
gallons of air
kept in little tanks
inside a hospital.
and i'm empty.
long dead.my pen has inked
all that it could about you.
the guts i had for you
have all spilled out.
the emotions i harbored for you
have all evaporated.
your name has become
to my tongue.
all longing for your skin
my veins have been sucked empty
of any blood of yours.
all of the words you spoke to me
have leaked from my head,
and all those that i spoke to you
have dried up from my mouth.
every part of you that was once part of me is long dead.
and i'm left here to wonder
if those parts
might have been all of me.
we killed the star shooters.and you can hold my breath for me
while i try to hold your heart.
forgive me if i damage it,
i'm not the best with delicacy.
and we can just build castles in the air
we'll steal the silver lining from all the
seasons clouds, we can wear them
just like nooses around our necks.
because this feels like
we killed the star shooters
with their own guns
and stole the magic from the sky.
because this feels like
i filled all six barrels
in our game of russian roulette
and made sure you went first.
Inside Out.Inside Out.
Do you love my insides?
You know the parts you can’t see.
The parts that constructively divide,
All the places where you can’t be.
Do you love my internals?
You know all my unexploited crevices.
All the words I leave out of my journal.
The soft tissue areas that offer no benefits.
Do you love my fleshy, raw fillings?
You know the boring and bloody parts.
The features that are not made for kissing.
The invisible strokes that add to this body of art.
You see it’s my exterior that attracts you
But it’s my interior that made this possible.
So when my insecurities inadvertently attack you,
Don’t be so swift to class me as distrusting and illogical.
I need to know and to understand.
That you truly love me for who I am.
Even the parts of me you cannot see
Because those are the places where I want you to be.
The CrowBirthed before the white flames of snow, is a crow of intellect with a darkened glow.
A glow from the shadows, deathly and grey, it dwells within souls of the crow's mindless prey.
Such blood-filled specimens without a clue or a light, they wander the deep oceans without knowledge of fright.
Dimensions of fear drown their pitiful eyes, the crow only watches them from above the black skies.
It scavenges their bodies and devours their hearts, nevermore seeing humanity as it ignores and departs.
I, ApostropheLabel me the apostrophe.
Providing union prophecies
and communion plays
to quench your exotic fixations
Coaxing your child-caliber -
through coated girth and doubt.
Naming off syllables of sitcoms
till re-runs act as lungs -
breathing mediocrity as genius
and sewing smiles securely to your lips.
Undoubtedly, the quill tip sips
the prayers you pray for me
because no man's sonnet reeks or bleeds
such as this nomad's need.
Ignorantly, my bliss poises your beauty
and admits that I -
am your sole apostrophe.
Smile, DarlingHey there.
Yes, you over there.
Has anyone told you lately that you look great?
Yes, with your morning hair. Your “chopstick” limbs. Those things you call fat. Your skin with all the blemishes which make you shine brighter. Your eyes which shine like the stars.
I want to say that you look beautiful, and that you shouldn’t worry about what you look like.
What do you mean you’re a terrible person?
Oh, is it because of the intense jealousy for those who have things you don’t have?
Or maybe because you feel immensely insecure of your wonderful self? Or maybe because you take out that anger and sadness on something? Or is it because you’ve only been getting negative feedback from others? Is it because you can’t fulfill your own duties?
Here’s one thing I should tell you, darling.
Put down that blade.
Throw those pills down the sink.
Drop that bottle of liquor you’ve got there.
Let those tears fall.
I am a GirlI am a girl who smiles
when things aren't always happy
I am a girl who cries
but stands up and starts over
I am a girl who is Bisexual
that loves both of the sexes
I am a girl in love
with 2 people
I am a girl that is strong
when most are weak
I am a girl that smiles all the time
when everything is falling apart
I am a girl that sheds a tear
but starts all over again
I am a girl that never gives up
when things don't go her way
I am a girl with a heart
a girl that is in love
I am a girl that cares deeply
for those she truly loves
I am a girl who is in love
with a guy as well as a girl
I am a girl that is Bisexual
and stands up for what she believes is right
I am not a whore
I am not a slut
I am just a girl
that should be treated fairly
I am a girl with a difference
I am a girl with opinions
I am a girl that does not care
I am a girl who will always be Me
Too Dizzy To RideI'm on a carousel.
Not one of the good ones either.
Not the one with the sparkling pink unicorn, nor the one with the majestic lion and prancing tiger.
Not the one with the sturdy, strong elephant and certainly not the one with the graceful jewel-toned seahorse. (That was always my favorite ride.)
It doesn't play the insouciant dulcet symphony raining sugar-spun treble clefs of beatitude on cherubic smiles.
I'm on the one that must have been designed by M.C. Escher. It spins slantwise and upside-right-down, all at once.
I'm on the one that was painted by Tim Burton, all washed out skull-grey skin and bruised-appearing eyes. It is Saturn Devouring His Son.
It has wild-eyed braying donkeys dripping blood from blunted, gnashing teeth. (I don't like these donkeys.)
It has giant sea tortoises with velociraptor talon-beaks and flippers toothed with saw blades. (I used to like sea turtles…)
The music is written by Cannibal Corpse. The ride is a rusty metallic howl of tenebrosity and be
Friend Zone.Friend Zone.
I just can never seem to get it right.
How can she say that I am not her type?
After the constant phone calls and the facebook messages
And listening to you talk about all of your annoying relatives.
I thought that you and I could’ve been something.
I know now you think all guys are just after one thing.
Especially after the last guy and what he did to you
And I thought since I was the person you came running to.
That maybe, eventually there could be something between us
And you would believe me when I say I am not thinking of my penis.
When I say I long to hear your voice, even if it's only for a little while
And I love the way your delicate dimples develop whenever you smile.
I even love the way you chew your nails wildly whenever you’re nervous.
So when my suppressed feelings for you begin to pierce through the surface
And I confess all of the affection held captive in my chest.
You say that you love me but you can only see me as a best...
This where the mem
this is our burdenmy soul song is the
tea kettles whistle
it expells steam like spirits
and we all wish
we could banish our demons
these walls are held up
by kind ghosts and curious ghosts
they make a house a home
if you let them
why do you think
the sight of a newly vacant lot
is more sorrowful than
the childrens vacant eyes?
we all carry water vapor inside us,
things that tie us down
to this concrete ground
but we are not tea kettles
and my lips
cannot form the whistle-notes
to expel ghosts
so i carry them
we carry them
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