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Literature
the ghost of vivica
she always thought that she would die
like marilyn, a still life of beauty, of release,
painted in pain and silk sheets,
and sometimes life does hold that image,
but never death.
she wasn't ready-
that’s what she tells me.
she doesn't tell me much, though.
gossamer skin wrapping bird bones
into a lithe bundle named vivica,
soft curls spilling
claims her head’s always spinning,
always swimming in the sea of pills
she swallowed
i hear her hollow voice
singing or sobbing- i can never tell,
but it plays softly every night,
sometimes in whispers,
a symphony of stories
she weaves about her past,
lulling me to sleep so easily,
and i dream of a sorrowful, lost, lonely family,
missing their melodic daughter, sister, mother,
missing their train wreck beauty queen,
missing a woman lost in time,
missing vivica.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 1 0
Literature
house of wolves
and 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?
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 5 0
Literature
to fade or to stay the same
in the deepest, calmest hours of the night,
when you have naught but your own company,
i hope your mind reaches out to memories of me,
i hope they wash over you like waves of the sea.
i hope that you can still find comfort
in my presence beside you,
like a moth to a brilliant flame,
know that i will always find you.
i hope that even when you are alone,
you do not feel lonely,
because you carry thoughts of me with you,
just like i do, for you only.
i hope that waking up next to me
fills you with such contentment
as it does for me, because
you are my favorite sentiment.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 1 0
Literature
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.'
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 11 0
Literature
this is our burden
my soul song is the
tea kettles whistle
it expells steam like spirits
and we all wish
we could banish our demons
so easily
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
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 12 0
Literature
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
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 7 0
Literature
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
foreign
to my tongue.
all longing for your skin
had been
scraped
and
peeled
from mine.
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.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 4 0
Literature
call it what you want.
it burns so bright inside me
i would scream it from the rooftops,
but i don't want a soul to hear.
no, i want it to be like a secret,
like smoke floating between us,
i want to see green on everyone
when they see us,
green like the ocean,
green like your eyes.
i want to drink you in,
soak you into my skin
and feel you in my bones.
i want your yearnings to be my desires,
your thoughts to be my obsession,
your words to be my voice.
i want
you.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 2 0
Literature
i still don't miss it.
my hands still
have the contours
of your body
memorized,
and the way
the textures of
our skin
constantly
opposed
each other
still makes me shiver.
the way
your voice
curled
and
drifted
like smoke,
and mine chased it
like a hopeless wind.
the way you
always called me darling,
and i pushed
and
pushed
until you were
too far away
to reach.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 3 0
Literature
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
pulls me
with boney fingers
down and
      down and
           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
down under.
i don't know how
long it holds me
there,
but just as i
cease struggling
against its claws
i am gulping in
gallons of air
kept in little tanks
inside a hospital.
and i'm empty.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 32 0
Literature
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.
what question?
i couldn't voice it if you asked me.
but you begged.
and begged.
and i tried to
force the words
from my throat,
but i don't have a gag reflex.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 13 0
Literature
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.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 6 0
Literature
whale bones.
we spend our days
dazing between sunrise
and sunset,
but baby, open those eyes,
i can remember when
they were the widest,
all full of the ocean and your stare,
just that could fill me up.
if i could,
i'd take you by your tail,
and never let you go.
show my teeth and
have my way,
have all that i want,
but it's only you.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 3 0
Literature
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.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 11 0
Literature
depths. (lost at sea)
tearing through my chest
you remove twelve bleached, bent sticks
to reveal the oceans underneath,
waves and waves, swallowing, devastating.
farther than your stare will go,
they crash and collide and sink ships
greater
than
y o u.
tomorrow, i lie bloody and torn
tangled in your sheets,
tangled in your memory.
try to regain sense of port and starboard
my hands grasp empty air and
deserted pillows
i blink away my salt water tears.
---
without you,
this mattress stretches on like the ocean
the bottom of this bottle
feels like the depths of the sea
and the only thing i can feel
is the current pulling me down
and davy jones calling.
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 9 0
Literature
please.
         carry me to shore
when i wake
    i will ask you
to let me drown again
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove
:iconvanityisthenewlove:vanityisthenewlove 1 0

Random Favourites

Literature
tremors
curled over a porcelain mouth, i let my dinner fall out.
it's 9:33 p.m. and i think about saturday,
when rain hit the pavement like firecrackers,
the sky darker than the shadows behind the shower curtain.
        i know there's a spider burrowed between those plastic folds.
funny thing about deep spaces; they feel better
when they're stuffed full. i think about how your fingertips
made my skin feel soft and breakable, how your tongue was warm,
about how my legs wouldn't stop shaking and you laughed, whispering,
"you okay?"
        well, there's this experience known as an aftershock.
hands clutching cold tile, water coming in spurts
from the faucet, i pretend that no one can hear me and bend my spine.
my thighs are still splotchy and red from bathing and jade green bruises
polka-dot my kneecaps.
        sometimes i do things i don't think i should.
i've gotten used to
:iconbailey--elizabeth:bailey--elizabeth
:iconbailey--elizabeth:bailey--elizabeth 380 57
Literature
we're never what we think.
at least twice a day, i find myself wishing i was less.
less of a worrier.
less of a lover.
less of a mess.
all of this would be so much better, if the disconnect between
what i want and what i have would close because then things
would be simple for the first time in years. and i could inhale
without wondering what kind of consequences it will have five
minutes from now. you can only imagine what really goes
through my mind in the time it'll take you to breathe in and
out. now hold it. like i've been holding this thought for months—
the girl i was is quickly vanishing.
i've been holding it like a secret on the tip of my tongue afraid of
what the outcome will mean for me but saying it out loud doesn't
dilute the impact it's having on my insides or the way i've been
closing my eyes and trying to pretend it's not true for the better
half of a year because if  there is ever one thing that you don't
want to lose it's yourself. but still, i woke up this morning—
and for
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 133 59
Literature
there's no right way anymore
i do not know why we do these things to each other.
our sentences lack all the proper meaning. we only say what we're feeling when we're feeling nothing at all and keep all the most important things we could ever think to say safe beneath guarded tongues. we are clever in all the wrong ways.
it's about how we do all the things we're expected to because to actually do what we want the most—the things that scare us—would mean having to take a risk. we might need to deal with the possibility that we have something to lose by doing nothing at all.
there is a complete certainty that we've gotten content in our loneliness—in our misery. we're stuck standing still, not at all responsible for the way we function, because even our hearts just keep beating because it's committed to memory—not because we make them. not because we want them to. we are incomplete in exactly the way we want to be.
if the fact that tomorrow never arrives because it's always today means that nothin
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 108 52
Heroin by WRDBNR Heroin :iconwrdbnr:WRDBNR 176 23 Paint Job by stuntkid Paint Job :iconstuntkid:stuntkid 3,055 114 Corvid by stuntkid Corvid :iconstuntkid:stuntkid 759 30 Some Things Can't Be Fixed by WRDBNR Some Things Can't Be Fixed :iconwrdbnr:WRDBNR 205 23 fursuit by AceroTiburon fursuit :iconacerotiburon:AceroTiburon 1,666 258 autograph by AceroTiburon autograph :iconacerotiburon:AceroTiburon 2,472 429
Literature
the poets.
we are the in-betweens-
the rise and fall of poetry
we misuse structure,
misplace grammar's skeleton
and neglect the proper magic
of capitilization
but we are poets because
we hide in the vowels, slip in between
the sharp consonants that make
tongues click and teeth snap
to the spaces between the actors
and the supporting cast
connecting words like buttons on a shirt
or colliding magnets
we are poets because our hearts
become the page, the stage
but we are always left
with the blood on our hands
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby 47 7
Literature
if love is blind, stab my eyes
Oh, all the glorious tragedies I've
seen today, all within ten minutes:
A guy holding a bouquet. An expected
box of European chocolates shaped
like a heart, naturally.  A stuffed
bear. A couple holding hands. A boy
kissing his girlfriend's soft cheek.
A girl carrying pink balloons. Oh.
I'm alone, naturally.  How awkward.
Eyelid umbrellas hold back rain,
torrents of gushy-mushy romance.
A metaphoric flood; stormclouds.
Walking from Point Envy to Point
Misery.
Facing down, arms crossed. Eyes
on the ground. Please, no optic
tidalwave leakage. What's this?
Stop: step on a blue candyheart.
Facing down, thank God.  Thank
God, not Cupid.  Not that dumb
St. Valentine. Not a cordiform
morsel of sugary conversations,
spreading one-liners older than
this holiday. Kiss Me. Miss me.
XOXO. Love Ya.
Detour: stomp.
Saccharine aorta vs. my shoe heel
(not Achille's, but same difference)
What?  You want to know who won?
Are you kidding? Y
:iconChloroformBoy:ChloroformBoy
:iconchloroformboy:ChloroformBoy 92 51
Literature
the science of sleep.
i don't sleep anymore. or at least i don't think i do. it's one of those things i stopped keeping track of like the number of words that make my mother cry (cancer, lists). if i'm being honest, i stopped sleeping (maybe) around the time i started thinking in a series of parentheses.
because i don't sleep, my arteries demand too much air (oxygen, clean) from the space outside my window. i make my room my heart, cold. it fills with a wind only bricks can breathe, an ice only soil is willing to withstand. i am winter's soul.
the world becomes a different place when you stop noticing sound (mute, black and white film) and start noticing every movement your bones, your muscles and the acid in your organs make. you start twisting your spine to imitate the birds spreading through the branches like cancer and you force your fingers to bend in unnatural angles to stop the shaking. but aren't we all just mocking birds (mockingbirds)?
when you stop sleeping, your body becomes the experiment and y
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby 298 26
Literature
i breathe ashes.
one day,

i won't feel-

my itchy skin, raw

my collapsing lungs, needing

my spine tingling beneath

my skin, a reminder

i'm merely skin and bones
but i will feel.
there will be no need

to keep my ears underwater

and my palms pressed

against the windowpanes
or the need to stand knee-deep

with bare legs and a bare heart

in the snow, fighting for
the moment i feel numb
i will feel less like i'm falling from

a burning building and more

like i'm inside faced with the flame

because it is in fire that hope remains
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby 15 4
Literature
the thing about writing
the thing about writing
is that it gets lodged beneath your skin
like your favorite dress caught
and tangled in the thorns
and all you can think about is
how it itches, how it hurts
how out of place, yet familiar it is
amongst your skinny bones
and stretched muscles
the thing about writing
is that you get lost in the metaphors
too often and too carelessly
to make much sense of the rest
and everything suddenly becomes a
breathing poetic device
the thing about writing
is that every story gets shifted
to the point where it gets
harder and harder
to tell the difference between
dreams and reality
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby 51 29
Literature
peter pan.
i grew up in a house with
floors that slant, a porch
that rots and an attic full
of glass. i watched as my
father insulated the walls,
my arms getting wrapped
up in itchy pink material
that left tiny cuts across
my skin.
i grew up in a family that
either cared too much or
didn't care enough. my
father never talked and
my mother only accused
but never apologized. i
watched their affection
fade and a fog of too-
high expectations rise
and consume me.
i grew up scared and a
coward. my nails would
dig trenches in my arms
and my stomach had a
habit of rejecting what
it was given. i got used
to hiding my pale limbs
in sweaters and blankets,
soon learning they would
never keep out the cold
like i desperately needed.
i grew up taking baths in
lukewarm water and want-
ing nothing more than to
climb behind the crooked
walls in my crooked house
and hide, just for a little
while.
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby 35 17
Literature
all i see is yellow.
you always told me if i ran too far, i would run out of things to run to. and i guess in a way i did. i became a sheet of plastic sweeping through a wasteland of i-don't-knows and i-don't-cares, clinging to broken trees and drowning in mud puddles. i was running without a ribcage, without a heartbeat.
i watched as the sky i've always known as blue turn gray; i watched the wolves come closer; i watched your hands slip farther and farther away. somewhere i realized that maybe it wasn't what i was running to or what i was running from that mattered, but rather the empty space in between where i felt the world break and my knees weaken.
i built a city of bones inside myself, a world where i became the pollutant with every breath that left my body. i etched a maze of streets and bridges into my skin as it stretched like shingles over my bones, trapping the light. and my eyes, they became the streetlights on an empty sidewalk.
because well, i've been losing faith in the sun.
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby
:iconhush-lullaby:hush-lullaby 29 14

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isabella
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i'm isabella and i write bad poetry and sleep too much.

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:iconanatattoo:
AnaTattoo Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2013
Thanks for the fav :)
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:iconlittletinycheez:
littletinycheez Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2013
heyyyyy dB
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:iconchocoroar:
chocoroar Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you so much for watching me! :iconcraiplz:
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:icongetyourgrip:
GetYourGrip Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2013
thanks~ :)
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:iconvanityisthenewlove:
vanityisthenewlove Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2013
don't thank me, i should thank you for your amazing writing c:
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:icongetyourgrip:
GetYourGrip Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2013
shucks :}

note me real quick
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:iconsospook:
sospook Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2013  Hobbyist
Thank you for the  watch and all of the favs it means a lot to me :heart:
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:icon50-for-nothing-cent:
50-for-nothing-cent Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2013  Student General Artist
thanks for the watch sweetie~ :iconsupertighthugplz:
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:iconmoxli:
Moxli Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you so much for all the faves oh my goshhh.
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:iconvanityisthenewlove:
vanityisthenewlove Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2013
Sorry I spammed you but I just loooove every single thing in your gallery
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