a suicide of the saddest kindi am rotten with passion,a suicide of the saddest kind1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
struck down too soon with the hands of
ones i love,
and sick with the hearts
of a million dying daughters,
throats bleeding as they scream
i have taken to sea, rising with
the buck of mercury waves,
rising with the morning
and falling at the wayside,
for that is my place,
and as a woman, i should listen
more and talk less.
among the millions who breathe despair
as if it needed to be seen by throngs,
i have broken down in the crowd,
my heart giving way, but never
curling into my sadness,
i let it feel me instead
as i am a dangerous emotion.
i am cities burning by oceansides, waters
licking the shores with tongues that
have tasted what it means to be loved
i am wasted on people
who want me for what i seem,
not who i am.
Killed myselfToday I killed myself,Killed myself1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Shot myself in the head,
Killed all those voices,
They laughed as I bled.
I tied the noose,
Jumped off the chair,
Felt at peace,
Suspended in the air.
I took a blade,
Ripped open my wrists,
Watched my life drain by,
Blood ran away, smooth and swift.
I jumped in front of a train,
Laughed as it crushed my skull,
Killed all my thoughts,
Tracks where to dull.
Popped twenty pills,
Dreamed of my nightmares,
Voices no longer blared.
I had yet to decide,
Which I would take,
Which would be best,
for everyone's sake.
I could just make a scene,
let the police shoot me down,
Let them dissect me,
When my body is found.
Destroy the monster,
That keeps showing its face,
Rip it to shreds.
Ill end it for the rest of its days.
A predictionSome days are pure snowfall.A prediction1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A clean, hollow-seeming landscape.
Some days seem as afraid as I am
to pass through town,
to look around as if holding flowers,
as if waiting for someone
The sadness of most days
is the sadness of never having strung my wash
on a line, holding fabrics
up near my face as if trying to catch
as if trying to impose forms
onto the light that would fall into them
gratefully, as if finally able
"There are so few opportunities
to spread my arms,"
the light says.
Every night a skin of ice
covers the stream banks,
by morning light. Once free
the water runs toward the woods,
carrying the light's genes
Walking through some of the oldest sounds on earth
I remember so little of what was real
for the sake of remembering
I make a prediction.
The lake converts Fahrenheit
to Celsius by turning opal,
by sliding a broken fish
up the freezing sand
as if making the land
Download my brushset and learn brush groupingHey everyone, I just put up a new video showing a simple, yet super handy way to categorize and group your brushes in Photoshop. It's especially useful if you have a really big set like me, it makes it really easy to find what you need so you don't have to hunt around constantly. I've also provided a download link to my current set of brushes with the video.Download my brushset and learn brush grouping1 year ago in Personal More Like This
Hope you find the video and brushes useful! I'll upload my set here to deviantART at a later date, so in the mean time, if you wanna grab them, hit the video
My Dear StrangerIf my dear stranger spreads her wings to flyMy Dear Stranger1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and flits away to nest in empty souls,
prepare a catcher ‘neath th’ ensuing holes
to stop the muses’ verse from drifting by.
For never can I lose the lullaby
she hummed while pouring water on my coals,
and all that’s left but for my worn-out soles
are fragments from the journey we came by.
But if I puzzle over these remains
and twist and wrench them back into their place,
a stolen truth will crop up in my scrawl.
For all the art from forth these mortal brains
are but an effort to remove all trace
that my dear stranger was disturbed at all.