Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login

Similar Deviations
if anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.

and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.

i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or sleep
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch anyone by accident
because right now a touch would be a touch too much.

what i want is for you, to be here,
tonight, two rows back.
i want you far enough so you can't touch me
and you won't feel it when my tears hit the ground but
i want you to see it all and i want to watch you take it in.

instead of me, the worm, the perpetual squirm,
the body beneath yours in warmth and rapture and fullness,
i want to see you watch me empty myself and see as nothing and nothing and nothing comes up in heaves.
i want to watch your eyes the whole time and never look down
because i don't want to miss a minute of this, i want you to see with clear eyes
what you've done and i want to see that you mean it when i say
you're sorry.
we both feel it happening but i don't want it to
this is the hurt from last time and the hurt i'm feeling now
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.




Sometimes, I feel so very sorry for
the letters that I write.
Born onto a blank page and
trapped there all their lives.
No new sites to see, no unfamiliar faces to meet;
standing in a lonely row
just to express my thoughts as words,
and yet, completely unable to express their own.
They lie paralyzed in their birthplace
lacking the ability to grow and learn.
Immovable to change for the rest of their lives.
And sometimes, I wonder to myself,
why I choose to be the same.
Above all things in life, be thankful you are human. For no other creature on earth possess the gift of self-denial.




Check out my new Tumblr account: [link]

Other poetry by me you may like:
October Eyes: [link]
Sadness: [link]
Abeo Solus: [link]
Pianist: [link]
Human Nature: [link]
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

it seems that by now I’ve been diagnosed
with a mild case of weightlessness, mindless
drifting past empty homes and the emptier people
that purchased them.  I remember conversations

with you about existentialism
and the almost intricate fabric of my mind and
everything in between, and you-- the way you
paused before making a point as
the words defined themselves in your head:

I remember the day I told you I was God.
Creator of all things unimportant, trapped
in the body of a girl with nothing left to give, you
believed me

it must be a beautiful place
inside your head, with a world
that revolves around hope and expectations
the way it was supposed to; all
storybook-perfect like the
wars promise we’ll one day
become

[I’d like to think that every great leader
once cried themselves to sleep wondering
if they’d ever mean anything and
did things to stand out like smoking
or drinking or pretending to be someone
they’re not and every morning they’d tilt
their head in the mirror trying to find the angle
where things just looked “right,” before deciding
they were worth more than that,

just to know I’ve got somewhere to go]

to whom it may concern,
forget me as soon as you can. replace me
with the constellations in the sky
the shimmer of the waves and the
gossamer webs tying you down
to a life you weren’t ready for;

people keep trying to save me with things like
self-preservation and religion and social
obligations and novels about all the ways
I should be ashamed of myself and
The Path to fix it
 (step one: become someone new
  step two: repeat)

I feel like I lost my voice on
all these people who don’t understand me,
proclaiming these words I’ve said
a million times before because
I still cannot hear them. adulthood
is slowly going deaf and calling it wisdom,

I guess it’s about time
I grew up.
I'm trying out new things because I've been frustrated with my writing for a while. Still not quite happy with this.

true story: i once told a boy i was God and he believed me
truer story: people keep wanting to fix me like i'm broken
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

I want to create an aromatic sea of jasmines
and stardust mountains of silver and —

No.

Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...

Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.

I want to write

    gods


and

    chaos.
I'll cease with spamming you all with dumb and worthless writing this week, now.

This actually has a deeper meaning.

I'll just keep that to myself.

New styles are fun to play around with.

Why did this make the front page. I don't get it.

Well...I edited the format a bit, because it made it flow better in my eyes...yeah....
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

Do you know what it feels like?
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.

I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.

I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.

The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.

Now I have nothing.
I've lost my touch with words.
--

The irony is that, I am using words...yet these words don't seem real.

*2 WEEKS LATER*
Thank you all for the views and the lovely comments. I'm afraid this time I did not reply to all the comments like I usually would, but rest assured I read all of them and I appreciate the time you took to write them. :hug:
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

you call me an angel
in spite of the bruises left on the fronts of my knees
stains of sin left on my skin;

the knots in my back,
you liken to the wings soon to burst from my shoulders
&tell me you can feel no sadness
when looking at my face-

eyes you analyse
into paints of the colour wheel,
several shades i have yet to see;
my smile,
despite its crooked nature
&peeling lips,
thinning enamel from my sickness-
you still find me amongst the heavens.

&sometimes,
as this once,
i kissed you to shut you up.

my skin is removing itself after my clothes
in the winter,
cold &dark,
too unlike the white night of russian summers.

i kissed you &it was wet because i was crying
&every time our lips parted
another sob stuttered its way through the gap.
you heard what words i couldn't swallow,
the ones straining to pass over my tongue
yet drowned upon existence.

you listen to me until i lose my headstrong aim
to starve back to bones,
to see the angel wings i've lost in my skin
you touch &feel are there;

you leave me warm
&wet in a cool bed beneath your window
as no one had managed before;

you lull me to sleep
with lips on my
forehead
cheek
nose
chin
&hold me lightly enough
that i can move
unrestrained
but when i do,
i only curl closer
to you.
i cannot believe i wrote this i cannot believe i wrote this i cannot believe myself
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

Memories of War:

What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...

A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?

Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...

And the world will soon forget.

Fill my heart with this regret?

For the victims written in stone.

Unspoken sin you now atone...


Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain.
Now we both know we be broken;
Give this man his smokin' token.

Held up guns with both his hands;
Not a boy he's cause he's a man.
Order comes by a suit and hand.
Will you flee or will you stand?


This is a memory of our war,
Of all the things that we can't ignore.
And staying blind to the cries of pain...


Will lonely ashes be what remains?


-Chen Yuan Wen ft. The C-Crew, 15th January 2013
If you liked my work don't forget to click that favourite button at the top :star: (^_^)/ Thank you

If you'd like to support my artwork and you have some spare change. Please take a look at my new e-book it's only $1.99 and available in multiple e-formats for purchase [you can even read it on your PC, phone etc.]:



Other Important Links:

My Facebook Page: [link]
Youtube Channel: [link]
My Gallery: [link]

Author's Comment:

Aye maties,

As I've stated I'm going back t' basics and so this is actually a song that I wrote yesterday t'gether with me old friends from me rap crew. The part in italics is th' guest rap sung by them and I do the clean vocals (no change in font) as well the rough dirty growls (bold).

My friend raps in a voice similar to snoop dogg's smooth style so I thought it worked very well with the overall chemistry of the piece ^^ His piece is in italics.

It was a lot of fun to do this song (gotta admit that) even if the topic might be over done, I was happy to explore it and doubly thankful for the chance :3

Enjoy mates.

-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates :iconwordofchen:

If you really like me lots and want to show some epic support (other than just purchasing a book), following this link and read the journal (^_^)V >[link]<
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

-I had never wished to know the moon,
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.

-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present

-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
Me,
the sea,
shooting stars.

-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”

-dp
it always has been.
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

Standing in the shower
Skin turning redder

I stay still and soak it in
This water won't erase my sins

Scars stand out bright white
Burns and cuts all in sight

The real scars cannot be seen
They reside inside of me

I wonder if all I will be
is a creature scarred eternally?
Sadly accurate
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.