35356 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
mecalsiz azap yokuşu da inilemez bir hal aldı. oysa hep gokyuzune bakmaliydim.
the sluggish ascent of torment can not be climbed down anymore. yet, i should have looked at the sky forever.
Meridian (1)MeridianMeridian (1)1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Langsam bahnte sich mein Geist seinen Weg durch die Schwärze. Meine Gedanken wurden klarer, aus dem Schwarz wurde Grau und Sterne zeichneten sich auf der Wasseroberfläche ab. Nein, es war kein Wasser. Dafür war es zu dunkel und auch viel zu schwer zu durchdringen. Diese Leichtigkeit musste ich mir erst wieder erarbeiten.
Doch fühlte ich mich hier auf eine merkwürdige Weise wohl. Es war schön Verwirrend und eigentlich bedrohlich, aber doch so unglaublich schön. Und friedvoll. Dennoch konnte ich nichts dagegen tun, dass mein Bewusstsein immer weiter aufstieg. Es erkämpfte sich
wait forever. yes,the morning came in, thick as honey, studded with beestingers of shadows; the unlight from the trees' stagnant fingertips. last night i stood under the branch sky, and picked off twigs, still green inside. they tasted of fading things, like the peeling photographs of summer-skin on your wall. and you put two fingers and two thumbs together and found me in the middle and said you wish you had your camera. you called me picturesque. and i laughed and said, if that is what i'm like, why don't you tell me what i am.wait forever. yes,5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
they come quiet and leave with such a racket, boisterous and petulant, with loud pouting lips unapologetically kissing my feet as i
tell me when it hurtsremember the year we skipped your birthday?tell me when it hurts5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
you watched the hands and legs on the face of the clock and tried to make sense of the clown's noses, prong teeth and drooling drips of time, layered on the rims of your auburn hair and spilling down onto the contours of your whipped and beaten eyes like chocolate milk. we dyed your hair that day, purple, spilled wine and mauve egg yolk, and we told you that you didn't have to age if you didn't want to, we told you that the ten-second rule applied to things like beauty and innocence, and we told you that you could be a child until peter pan came for you and you didn't have to watch the clock anymor
red shoes.it's just one of those days, where everything is black and white. trees, sky, the earth itself seems to be various shades of grey. it is eerily quiet as well, the only thing it could use is some jazz music, maybe a solo saxophone, or piano. it would seem to fit the days events. everything in slow sluggish moments, yet it's all poor quality. i suppose it was a film noir thing that happened.red shoes.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i made a pot of black tea, but it never whistled. well at least i never heard it. it was misting outside, and the fog was rolling in, bringing the cold with it. i stood and stared out the kitchen window wearing my grey corduroy cargos with my black hoodie.
the nature of wordsthe nature of words5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
What if I told you I was Jesus?
Look Him up on Google Images. Right now. I'll wait.
Let me just tell you you'll find pictures of Him, fisted beard and soft eyes, holding lambs, small children, His hands strung up on crosses like a marionette doll, dipping His feet into broken waters, along with the odd picture of an African-American Jesus or a manipulated photo to show Him smoking, drinking, having gay intercourse. And you'll smile, and bite your lip a little, maybe play with some knick-knack, some tinsel and bouncy toy on your desk.
Now look at me. Don't be shy. I'm not offended.
Get in so close to my face that you can only catch
a breath. I linger onThere are things that I can remember that hide away in the dark of me until I pass that grocery shop on the corner. You know that organic one? And theyre selling blackberries on special for a dollar.a breath. I linger on5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Or it could be someone I have never met falling away from my gaze and bringing his laughter like a resonant chord plucked from the depths of my falling away from gasps. I shudder. Close contact with my chest is my heart beating through my ribs pleading to be ripped out.
You can see. I know. You can see, but you never say a word. Is it pleasant? Being that, oh look there, again here, oh where are you? Can I tell?
Echoes through these tunn
in the pursuit ofI cannot define happiness without simply referencing a myriad of other yellow-sounding adjectives: joyous, pleasant, euphoric, loving, warm, merry, blissful, festive, idyllic, overjoyed, elated, pleased things that don't even really mean happiness, just equate it in my head.in the pursuit of5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
And that makes me nervous.
How do you define happiness? Real, emotive, unguarded and unbridled happiness? How do you describe the dizziness in your toes, the warmth at the top of your head, the numbness on the front of your teeth? The woodlike quality that comes with it, the sort of anesthetized, delirious, passionate happiness?
Without the clichés, maybe?
you moved softlyYou moved softly, like end of summer leaves falling into autumn, turning the pages of the air with your fingers, as a silent maestro begging the orchestra to play. I never met so many instruments willing, waiting, dying to be resonant.you moved softly6 years ago in General More Like This
Stepping into the street, watching you, sounds lose meaning they dont disappear but they elongate into the stretching moment and Figaro in and out of my ears as a rushing hissing straining noise. Like whistling kettles I havent heard, in real-time, for years.
Silk rippling slowly through the air from you; your arms are fluid and wistful. You seem so sad as you run your fingerprints a
He loves meThe sun fell down on me like soft petals gracing the ground at your feet. Like that day I picked that flower from your garden, daring your eyes as I plucked our forever.He loves me6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He loves me not.
Of what a kiss should be.Today, today I felt as if I would break. In a gentle way. With the pain of some kind of realisation. Or theory. Or delusion, fitting to such strange situations. Perhaps not strange at all—same? The acidic grind of the same wheels turning the same cogs the same outcome, the same clock striking time to sleep.Of what a kiss should be.6 years ago in Post-Teen (Mature) More Like This
I don't think it's up to thinking about what I should have dones, how I could've changed things. What you could of… it's only blame. And regardless of the supposed weight lifted off of one, it never takes away the negation of the entire experience.
Why do we say we feel hollow when we can still feel? Sometimes it's only an overload of em
A Letter to MeDear Me,A Letter to Me2 years ago in Letters More Like This
I know sometimes the days seem long and the nights even longer. I know there are times you would hide from the world. You feel the weight on your shoulders, and see the accusing glares.
I'm here to tell you that it does get better. The sun does shine through the worst of our depression. It's there when you're ready to reach out and grab onto the ribbon of laughter.
Don't worry about those flashbacks, honey. There was a time when you had to deal with it alone, but that isn't the case anymore. No matter where it takes you, when you come back, you'll always have a strong person who loves you for who you are...imperfections and all. H
Human...Human...2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This world is so pure, so beautiful and flawless. Everything has its place, purpose and meaning. Everything is interconnected and all life somehow fits. The trees around me, bending their branches in the wind; their song perfectly fitting for this warm, late summer evening. The crickets joined in the lullaby with perfect ease, with no effort or even thought behind it. It just fits.
The wind itself moves and shifts, slows down or stops completely with perfect timing. Birds fly over my head with fluid motions, mimicking the invisible waves of the wind. The very last rays of light of this day bounce and reflect of everything, as if kissing the
messages.it's twenty degrees outside, and when he breathes into the air, the smoke spells sex.messages.4 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
but not the loving kind, the kind where taking a shower just isn't enough to get the smell of him off of me.
he's all wrapped up into disney movie, magic shit. when i know that he is just some dirty subliminal message, and i'll get sucked in.(but i'll tell myself it's not my fault, because my sub-conscious should be more aware, and i'll pinch myself to make sure i'm sleeping.)
i know that's not right. (anything to keep me asleep)
for you.If you;for you.2 years ago in Letters More Like This
have ever been l o s t, damaged, (heart)broken, vulnerable, unloved, unwanted, unneeded.
have ever lay on the cold ground and let the solid surface dig into your skull, graze your ankles and induce sh-shivers to see if you still
r e a l l y feel.
have ever stood in the heavy, pouring rain hoping that as it soaks you to the bone and cleanses your pores, maybe it will wash away everything about you too, giving you a fresh start.
have ever slipped under the duvet, swallowed the lump in your throat and squeezed your eyes shut praying that once you drift into your deep slumber, you will never wake up.
bipolar hearts.we use to watch Fight Club together, because she said that it made her feel a little less alone, and i could never reply so i held her in my lap.bipolar hearts.4 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
and she told me she was kalea's dizzy mind.
and in real life, you would think nothing of anything really, because she watches the birds fly just like you do. the morning rises on the same side of her window, and she can watch the clock tick away hours, just like you.
and she told me she was kalea's spinal cord.
i watched her pick at her fingernails for too long, and alway
lightening bolt eyes.he has lightening bolt eyes and one fucking killer smile.lightening bolt eyes.4 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
let me introduce you to whom i call "fire-fly."
he has ice white skin and something about the way his hair falls that makes me wish mine would conform to such a beauty.
looking at you for so long makes me feel. Really feel.
he calls them fire-flies but i say lightening bugs.
fire burns hot against his skin, and i can feel the heat in his heart
but lightening bolt eyes can destroy you.
but god, it's so beautiful first, but only at first.
he calls me his "freckled girl" and i call him my heart
and he says that i shine undern
memento mori I.memento mori5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Death has been standing outside my house all night.
Last night I wiped my eyes against the cool glass and I watched him out the leaves of my window; watched while he circled the perimeter, his hands dancing near my rosebushes, giving light touches to the leaves and breaking them off along the neon vein lines. I touch the patches on my face and I try to make out the lines on his body: hooknose frame, dark lidded eyes, nailed mouth. The ceiling of nighttime rushed over him like a blanket and a smile, and I fell asleep with the crook of my head against the sill, images of his dead-star hands floating on my eyelashes, dripping off
Swish-CthunkSwish-Cthunk7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Today I went down to the Bureau of Words to trade in my autumn onomatopoeia. Usually I put it off until at least the end of November, but this year the squelch-thud of my boots in the mounds of soggy leaves brought me up sharp. I went home, gathered my dry snaps, crackles and swooshes, as well as the cheerful spthooshk of a water balloon left over from August and headed down to the department. The rain hurried down to meet my umbrella, an excellent winter sound for which I had no words. But that would soon change.
The stooped man at the front desk greeted me with a finger to his lips. "We're running the barnyard tests, so we've got to be v
still.one.still.4 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.
(and i don't blame her)
she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.
Nevermind My LoveNevermind My Love2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
-She- 'Bye! See ya!'
-She- 'What is it?'
(I Love You)
dArama - ISSUE ONE - Love.dArama - ISSUE ONE - Love.5 years ago in Editorial More Like This
The dynamic between core staff, volunteer staff, and the community can at times be pure quality dArama.
It's worth noting that for years I've worked pretty hard to remain neutral on community politics. Today, I'm going to shatter that concept.
Needless to say, I am extremely politically aware of the inner workings of the deviantART community. I read *a lot* of journals, comments, forums, chat rooms. I have fake accounts. I spy.
But I don't spend my time talking politics, instead I focus internally at deviantART designing technologies and implementing understandings with core staff to address the issues I see pop up.
It's time to take a mo
Revolt Against The Odds An illuminated topaz sun blazing down to bake open cuts and exposed skin. Sweat percolates into his clothes while his chest falls and rises like a frightened rabbit. For what he sees as his last moments, Warren lets the radiating star above his head take his eyes, shutting them out with a blindness that he hopes will help him die quicker.Revolt Against The Odds3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He's lying out on a road, some car far off in the distance, the one that decided to leave him here, dying. A feeling washes over him, it's a wave of pain and a throaty groan drips from his lips, muffled as he tips his flushed cheek to the roasting pavement. Eyes that open back up, just to trac
lay marbles along the groundit's raining again outside and i am not sure whether or not i should go to the post office, and post that letter to you, i even made sure i got your address right, picked a nice little envelope.lay marbles along the ground5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
it's something like pleasance, something like a train wreck, a horrific plane crash with no survivors, all twisted metal and you can't even make out where a mangled something could have been where a body was, or is. maybe it's like how all the colours are all swirled into a representation of, how earth is from up way high. like when you're flying and everything slowly takes on a cartoon-like certainty, the world becomes a doll-house, i guess then, we