Me.Anorexic.Me. in Free Verse More Like This
What Happened?I used to think make upWhat Happened? in Free Verse More Like This
Made people ugly.
Now I think I'm ugly without it.
I used to think people
Always loved me.
Now I think everyone hates me.
I used to think everybody
Was my best friend.
Now I think no one truly is.
I used to think
Boys were icky!
Now I wish I had one.
What happened to being
I'm Fine"Are you okay?"I'm Fine in Free Verse More Like This
No. I'm dying. I have to push myself to wake up in the morning, and when I finally do, I want to go back to sleep. Even my best dreams are becoming nightmares. I can't taste food, I can't stand the things I used to love. I'm breaking. I'm fading. I'm dying.
DisappearWishing to disappearDisappear in Free Verse More Like This
never to existed in their mind
no reason to cheer
this is why I was designed
there's a cloud over me and its raining knives
all smiles are faked
no one hears his cry's
as he sits there shivers and shakes
doesn't even try to reach out because there's nothing there
only my own numb stare
no desire to fight the devils wrenches
would anyone notice if I could disappear
because Im starting to feel warm in these trenches
would they even shed a tear?
Sick of the acting
let me compost with the dirt
live????..... ill think Ill be passing
lets make sure this hurts
still wishing to disappear
lets seal this coffin with a drop of blood and a tear
You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...You'll Never Understand... in Free Verse More Like This
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
AnorexiaMeet a girl named No One, with a heart of shattered stoneAnorexia in Free Verse More Like This
Staring at the other girl, the one that's not alone
Girl with skin that glistens, with the eyes of crystal seas
Grin of shining diamonds and a laugh like a disease
Flashes just a glance and soon, she's every trouble's cure
She has everything… and No One's off to be like her.
Eating turns into a crime, she'd rather be away
Thrusting fingers down her throat to make herself okay
Watching as her very bones are seen behind her flesh
There she drowns in tears, for she has not yet seen success.
Minutes turn to hours, and these hours turn to days
Every moment slipping, slowly fading into grey
Rapidly, her body turns to nothing but her bones
As she fights for beauty, as she battles for the throne.
Broken hearts must learn to beat, and this she came to know
Learning it the hard way when her heartbeat grew too slow
Yet, she somehow managed still to shine from what's within
Lying in her casket with her hidden, unseen sin.
Final thoughts ins
I'm Fine"Are you okay?"I'm Fine in Free Verse More Like This
That's all they say.
And I leave behind
These words in my mind.
I'm broken, I'm dying.
Inside, I'm crying.
There are wounds beneath my skin.
There are trials I face within.
There are things I just can't say.
There are people I must betray.
Beneath a smile, I feel pain.
Behind the sun, there's always a little rain.
And beneath these words I hold in my head...
There's always the thing I say instead.
I leave the truth behind..
So when they say, "are you okay?"
I always say, "I'm fine."
Canvas Is The MirrorA canvas is a mirrorCanvas Is The Mirror in Free Verse More Like This
The paint drips down with my reflection
The canvas is my mirror
But only because
The canvas is me.
The canvas is your mirror
As the brush tickles its surface
The canvas is our mirror
The canvas is a mirror
The depth of the artwork stares back into my
After all, I do not paint a canvas
Because the canvas
Sick of societyI may live inside my own, twisted universeSick of society in Free Verse More Like This
I may change, sometimes for the worst.
What's normal to me is not normal for you.
Sometimes I just do what I need to do.
Behind a brick wall, I hoped someone would break it
I threw out my heart hoping someone would take it.
But I got tired of hiding and tired of hating
And instead of throwing myself at every guy, I'm waiting.
I'm sick of the person I tried to be
So basically, here I am, I will be me
I'm sick of the hatred, would you not agree?
.. Basically I'm sick of society.
goodbye, lettermani love you enoughgoodbye, letterman in Free Verse More Like This
that my heart is
like a wound
in my chest.
i know it's not pretty
but i'll tell you
how you leave me
into the sink,
porcelain veneer sneering
at the broken teeth and mirror
a foot ahead.
you smell like
drink & weed,
and you are making me sick.
in the morning,
i will sit you down at the
kitchen table to show
you the vomit behind
eyes bleed rivers
dead sea salted
over the bends
of my thumb.
you read sad poetry
to the caves
inside my heart,
because sadness knows
and expect me
not to crumble.
the first poem i wrote since i told you i love youthe star-soaked stainsthe first poem i wrote since i told you i love you in Free Verse More Like This
that covered our nudity
gives way at last
to a tequila sunrise,
so low in the sky;
it's still bright enough
to sting my eyes,
and yet i can't bring myself
to hate it.
your body next to mine,
every effort is made
to move a heavy limb
because any space
is space i don't want.
i am sometimes humbled
by my feelings,
the way they swell
in my throat
just how the ocean
tastes the shore.
there is always something new
to find hidden in my heart,
summoned by my words,
or the salt of your skin
wearing like wind on shale
i don't think i can ever tell you
i love you enough.
if i could, i would never get dressed
so that you could never be sad-
a rewind every time
my clothes touch the floor,
never anything but nude, not naked
because with you i can be bare
i can let you see my entirety
and leave my arms uncrossed,
i can let you in
and not fear that you will break me,
or force my inner things out.
i can love you with open arms
and my lip
things i don't know about you that bother me thati wonder what it's likethings i don't know about you that bother me that in Free Verse More Like This
to fall asleep beside you
in a post coital haze,
and to wake in the morning
to run to class.
do you wake me,
do you kiss my forehead,
do we make love again-
i don't know,
and do you wet your toothbrush
before applying toothpaste,
tell me you don't leave the sink running,
it must get awfully tired.
and what do you dream of
when i lie next to you,
blissfully more than just a body;
what will you dream of
a year from now?
please tell me i can fit into
your big picture
as easily as i can fit into
christmas doesn't have to be lonelythis is the first christmaschristmas doesn't have to be lonely in Free Verse More Like This
i have not spent alone;
when i have had arms,
sand-specked like the beach
and as encompassing as it is
to my body (of water, my ocean),
waiting to hold me
and steady my waves
there will come a day
that i am so fully loved
that the effulgence mimics and empty room
and the engulfing fire
exudes the warmth missed
in the winter snow
in which i am kissed
this is the year
that my endless yuletide wishes
have been made.
this is the year i am christmas lights,
(again and again and again)
the atlantic was born todayoh,the atlantic was born today in Free Verse More Like This
it's raining very hard,
stones on a tin-can roof,
and my lips become the
shape of valley mouths,
fluttering in smiles
and antagonistic frowns,
as i remember dragging my
watering feet to
the balcony to let you
hear the rain i heard
while you were
the therapy office.today you told me a million timesthe therapy office. in Free Verse More Like This
i was worth more than i thought,
the lines on my arms meant anxiety,
& drugs should ease me out.
you said my body was cold
& my head was achy,
& not to show my bones
sheaths of skin.
it was like you loved me,
only i knew better.
it was then
you told me my goals were
too lofty & i was driving myself
here is where i hoped
to prove you wrong,
to be thinner than the spaces
between a boy's fingers
(the spaces meant for me)
to be two numbers instead of
to wear convex patterns
beneath my skin to tent it into
what i mean is i'm sorry
because i am not ready to silence
the thunder in my gut;
to let the paths of guilt and beauty
fade from my arms;
to be beautiful and perfect
an absolute rosei want to make you happyan absolute rose in Scraps More Like This
i want to make you come
and you will hear me better
you will hear what i am dying to
say but too afraid to speak
it comes out as a whisper,
the same sort of air made pink
by moth wings at gatsby's
parties, the rustle of heavy dresses,
and the stillness brought by
stupefaction and breathlessness
i forgot to tell you that every time
i think of you my legs ache
and i cannot figure out why,
why why whywhywhy
but still i want to take your hand
and write in its palm,
i could wrap myself in you
until i am warped like an oak tree
and you would turn yourself
inside out to see if you could still
call me (,) beautiful
i don't want to sleep because
you should be beside me
i could smile because you
stayed and slept, neither of which you
promised. the clock over my
shoulder would read 7:15 and i
would slither back close to
you with my head tucked somewhere
by your neck.
you'll stay, won't you?
you won't leave me to an empty bed
don't you darei am not angry, no, i havedon't you dare in Free Verse More Like This
forgotten the shaking elbows and
shaking knees and shaking fingers and
shaking wrists and shaking thighs;
i am tired and tired and tired
and tired and tired and tired and
tired and tired and i love you.
that is my soul you are swallowing,
that is my soul with the hungry, cumbersome teeth
latching onto open wounds and peeling skin
like emaciated peaches, the soft tickle already
m elt ing.
we have lost the numbers stained on
our hands, bruised our knuckles in fruitless attempts
to colour it bad; bad to bad, bad to worse.
you are no shape i ever wish to take,
you are no curve i ever wish to forget.
you put the red of my veins in the dams of my cheeks
and fucking want me to smile, my heart is not sweet.
there are spaces un eve n
for the way the clock's tentative fingers mark
the dis joi n te d passing of ti me,
split into two par ts:
when you are here,
will we ever be again?all i know is how i feelwill we ever be again? in Scraps More Like This
and all i know is i feel dead.
make of it what you will.
what i need you to understand
is that every time i say to myself,
i love you,
i also say,
it doesn't matter.
i told you before you left
how i loved you,
and how angry i was
when i figured it out.
it seems denial can only get you so far.
so here's the thing:
i have a habit
of trying to rescue
what can't be saved.
i try on moods like clothing,
undergarments of repulsion,
denial, and depression
tattooed on my skin.
here's the thing:
the world is on fire
and i plan to burn down
i don't believe in suicide
but i do believe in reckless behaviour,
and it's just aching inside me
not to open the car door on the highway,
to look both ways before crossing the street,
to care about my health and myself
and here's the thing:
every night i say my prayers
to the only god i can believe in,
wishing wellness on everyone
except for me.
You Are BlindYou see a picture.You Are Blind in Free Verse More Like This
A girl with a smile on her face.
She looks beautiful.
She wasn't going anyway fancy.
But she wore her black make up.
And her brand new top.
But that isn't what I see...
Look a little closer...
Can't you see the tears that have just been wiped away?
Look a little closer...
Can't you see her right fist clenched,
Fumbling for her over strap bag?
Look a little closer...
Can't you see the left hand grip her long sleeve for dear life?
Look a little closer...
Can't you see her mind is running with thoughts tonight?
Look a little closer...
And maybe you'd have seen the warning signs....
My Week...I...My Week... in Free Verse More Like This
I don't know where to start.
I've been feeling very alone.
I've been feeling physically ill.
Head rushes, stomach aches, headaches...
Maybe my body is finally giving up.
I've had such bad urges and wants to self harm.
And that constant feeling of wanting to die,
It never goes away.
I just get distracted...
I've been paranoid and anxious,
after being in the house for two days.
Scrubbing my hands and freaking out about complete strangers.
I haven't been sickened by my day or feelings.
I've been cold and in need of energy.
Food has comforted me in the final days of the week.
I haven't seen a single friend.
Nor had a good conversation.
The whole week has been a weird concoction of a black goo,
With flecks of fake 'old times' and sugar sponcered mania.
I've been trapped and drained.
I can't relax.
My wrists are chained with self control.
Only a lip and a scab to pick at.
I have no energy to pull away from these chains either.
Well, not eno
Hell Doesn't Even KnowI want to cry so much...Hell Doesn't Even Know in Free Verse More Like This
Maybe I'm happy,
Maybe I'm sad.
I feel so alone,
Yet I've been with people all day.
I feel so unloved,
Yet I know I have people who love me.
I can't talk about these feelings.
I can't open up when the door is locked.
And the key is lost.
I want to inspire,
But I just recieve empathy.
I want to die,
But I keep on breathing.
I feel so confused, lost and all alone.
The feelings inside me are too strong for my body.
I don't want someone to understand.
I want someone to give me the answers to why I am like this.
And a solution to fix the massacre inside me...
Words.../////////////Warning/////////// TriggersWords... in Free Verse More Like This
I have no words to say.
I haven't got the will to.
I haven't got the will to say the words.
I haven't got a clue what to do........
Starving myself to death is a long way...
But thoughts of death run down the drain with the blood from my cuts.
The pain has washed over my days for weeks. Months. Years.
It never goes.
I have no way to help myself.
Nor can I save those around me.
As I try to stop someone from touching the flame. I burn myself.
We both burn ourselves.
Should we just estinguish life?
Is that what we should be doing?
I don't understand as messed up as they are how can they not want me to to be so like this?
If they are saying and agreeing it how can they babble positive vile?
How can they tell me I’m going to be okay when they don’t want to be okay themselves?
I can’t do it.
I am in the same position as those around me. I reflect and worry what they are feeling.
I can’t tell them things will be b
Please Kindly Leave My Brain"LEAVE ME ALONE!"Please Kindly Leave My Brain in Free Verse More Like This
That's what I want to say.
I don't mean it.
I need you.
That's what I say.
I don't mean it.
I'm dying from the inside out.
Feel like shit... again...
"I'm just not hungry,"
Which is true. But with a deeper meaning...
I'll starve my body into death.
"I'm sure I'll live,"
Please don't say that.
What if your not sure?
You die. I die.
That's the situation.
How can I be happy, If I know you're not?
I need you're hugs too much...
I don't know who I am anymore.I don't know who I am anymore.I don't know who I am anymore. in Free Verse More Like This
A person who wants to kill herself.
But wants to cry and then wants to laugh.
Who makes a joke about cutting.
But then gets triggered by the word cut.
Who over analysises ever thing.
Who dreams pathetic dreams.
Who hasn't got the courage to do anything.
Who disobeys her plan not to talk about her feelings.
Who gets so jealous if others have it worse off.
That's why she complains.
But she shouldn't. Complaining stops her being the worst off.
She planned to give up on love.
But couldn't even do that.
Who can control her anger.
But doesn't want to because it pains her soul.
She planned to commit suicide.
But she probably won't have the guts.
Who freaks out, reseaching about bipolar.
Who doesn't care about anyone.
And if she does she's helpless and worried and scared.
Who wished to be reckless and stupid in ways to get way.
But everything she does just makes it harder eacher day.
It's not talked about much.It's not talked about much.It's not talked about much. in Free Verse More Like This
Or if it is, it's a joke or something.
It's seen and misconcepted.
But more people than you think do it.
I found out two people who I knew did it.
Also having done it myself.
Even the reasons people do it aren't always correct.
Sometimes the reason gets lost with the person themselves as they get tangled up.
It's something I've always supported.
Somethimg I'm awefully hypocritical about...
SleepI want to sleep.Sleep in Free Verse More Like This
Sleep with no dreams.
And no waking...
The Beauty in the BeastThe other day.The Beauty in the Beast in Free Verse More Like This
I hit myself.
Punched myself over again until it was too painful to bare.
My arm was the same fleshy colour.
Until a small dusty bruise appeared.
That deepened to a powerful blue.
I like the pattern on my skin.
The stripped reminder of pain.
Now it's a sick yellow colour.
An ill looking green.
Yet it matches the ill and vile inside me.
A pattern that matches me.
That makes my fleshy, ugly skin.
Beautiful in my distorted mind.
It gives the look of death.
That physical twinge that might help people understand.
That will make my body understand...
It released a strength I never knew I had.
A strength that can cause colour to a persons skin.
A strength I once used to hold it all in...
NothingIt's late.Nothing in Free Verse More Like This
I want to write a poem.
I'm a writer.
Writer's are always alone.
I like to be alone.
I don't like strangers.
Maybe I don't want to be alone with strangers.
Or be alone with out my friends.
I just feel shit.
And nothing helps.
No dreams or hopes.
That's what I am.
I am nothing.
on skimming the surfacedear ex-lovers,on skimming the surface in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
dear ex-friends, dear little brother,
i have taken all the posters down and my room is a skeleton.
i wonder why you are sad and i am not.
i have taken time and care to grow into these walls
to plant memories here, first fuck
first sleepless night, first question of suicide,
i have collected bones-
here see them in my closet-
i have broken them all.
love was not strong enough to keep me here,
and love is not strong enough, after
on sitting across from a stranger at davis libraryi wonder if anyone has ever saton sitting across from a stranger at davis library in Free Verse More Like This
across from you and wrote a poem about you
even though they don't know you.
i wonder if anyone has ever done
this for me. i hope when you go home
you don't wash your hair. i like that it's messy
and long. if i were a ladybug i would like to sleep
there. i would tunnel just beneath the top layer
and shudder my wings to a close and have dreams of fields
of wheat. i hope you can see how this is a good thing.
and i hope you don't change your clothes. i hope you wear
a sweater everywhere you go. i like that the one you're wearing now
is brown and without a pattern. its not ambitious or pretentious. if i
were a flea, i'd perch on your shoulder for company until i got hungry.
i wouldn't bite you and wouldn't know why in my tiny insect mind.
i hope you never wear contacts, and i hope sometime you fall
asleep with your glasses on. i hope you never talk on the telephone
except once a week to your grandmother. i hope you never peel your stickers
off your laptop, no
on walking with your lover half stoned and deaddo you remember-on walking with your lover half stoned and dead in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
all those summers,
different loves with
love was quiet
it was not a
word. it was not
something to be said
or heard or understood.
remember the glances?
the ones that stuck and
held and caused a swelling
in the soul that surfaced in the
eyes and the bite of the bite of the mouth
on the thighs and the drunk and weary restless
nights where salvation was dead but hope was high
because love was not a word, or a scream, or a cry
but a look and a touch and a moan and a sigh
remember those first glances?
before the love, predating love, existing
outside of it, tugging one body to another body
through delirious crowds and clothes and existing
thoughts and ideas of what is and how it works. that first glance
that denied the mind its reasons, denied the earth its seasons,
because this was something outside
remember those big eyes?
the naked ones. fully undressed
but most naked in the eyes. little
secrets were passed through sets of
teeth and the only wo
SometimesSometimes I hate how I can imagine many different things that can actually mean hope. I could easily say something like, "to every day there is a dark side. But a new day brings a new light." Or whatever about how 'no matter how dark the night may seem, if you look hard enough, the stars will always be shining, even through the darkest clouds.' But there's a difference between reading and listening, then undertsanding, and then actually believing it, trusting it, grasping it and then using it to turn your life around. People can see the light, but don't always pay much attention...Sometimes in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
Terminator Trailer Terminates TimelineTerminator Trailer Terminates Timeline in Art Features More Like This
Terminator Trailer Terminates Timeline
Marcus Terminator Concept Art by RobertDBrown
With our concepts of time and space in our collective pop culture receiving a relentless shredding (Interstellar, Looper, Edge of Tomorrow) the Terminator, once again, comes back to show everyone how it’s done.
But where exactly and when will this be? When he (it?) first hit the pop culture
Artists on Writers - No. 6, Octavia ButlerArtists on Writers - No. 6, Octavia Butler in Art Features More Like This
Issue No. 6|Archives
Octavia Butler the Slayer of Stereotypes…
How many times have artists been dismissed or discouraged because of someone else interpreting their audacity as egotism? Octavia Butler started writing science fiction because of the film Devil Girl From Mars. Don’t misunderstand–she wasn’t inspired by the movie, she knew that she could write a better story.
Growing up in Pasadena, California, Butler was shy and introverted. She preferred writing stories over socializing. When she was twelve years old she saw Devil Girl From Mars, and began writing science fiction in an effort to do the genre some justice.
In the end she succeeded by leaps and bounds. Butler’s work is recognized as groundbreaking, not least of all b
Artists on Writers - No. 4, Gabriel Garcia MarquezArtists on Writers - No. 4, Gabriel Garcia Marquez in Art Features More Like This
Issue No. 4|Archives
The Spectre of Magical Realism Comes to TexasGabriel García Márquez
When he died last April at age 87, he had for a half century been a candidate for “world’s greatest living writer.”
Author of short stories and novels, including his masterpiece, One Hundred Years of Solitude, he received the Neustadt International Prize for Literature in 1972 and the Nobel Prize for Literature in Literature in 1982. He was a fierce critic of the United States and had a friend in admirer Fidel Castro, with whom he sometimes shared notes on his works-in-progress. He was banned as a “subversive” from entering the U.S. for several decades until President Clinton lifted the tr
Who is Dr. Strange?Who is Dr. Strange? in Art Features More Like This
Who is Dr. Strange?
Dr Stange colored by DM-P18
For several months the world has been asking the question ‘Who is Doctor Strange?’
The faces of Ethan Hawke, Johnny Depp, Jon Hamm, Joaquin Phoenix, Tom Hardy, Jared Leto have been click bait for a thousand sites waiting for news of the star of the next Marvel movie franchise. According to Mike Fleming over at Deadline it now looks like Marvel have finally landed their perfect
Italian Masters of HorrorItalian Masters of Horror in Art Features More Like This
Italian Masters of Horror
Zombie by liliesformary
Giallo is Italian for yellow… and Horror
In the wake of the real life horrors meted out on Italians during World War II, brutalized by Mussolini and then by Nazi occupation and then having their country used as one great battleground chessboard between Nazis and the invading U.S. and Allied forces, there was for a long time little appetite for horror in movies. It wasn’t until 1956 that the first genuine horror film (a vampire story) was produced and released. It bombed, soundly rejected by the public. The film would be of little note
Paul Tobin's Scavenger Hunt Part 3Paul Tobin's Scavenger Hunt Part 3 in Art Features More Like This
Paul Tobin’s Scavenger Hunt PART 3
The Seer Redux by PaulTobin
Design Industry Tips: Inspirational Tutorials
Masterful Resources on DeviantArt
PaulTobin is a conceptual designer, illustrator and graphic designer who has worked at Weta Workshop of New Zealand since 2003.
He has worked on films such as Andrew Adamson’s The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, Prince Caspian, Peter Jackson’s King Kong and James Cameron’s Avat
Alien IsolationAlien Isolation in Art Features More Like This
The Wright Stuff
Spaceman with no face 2 by bradwright
I've been playing Alien: Isolation for the last few weeks and it is scary as hell.
Alien Isolation Q&A with bradwright
Brad Wright, longtime deviant in the dA community, steps into the shoes (space boots) of Giger and Moebius as a concept designer for the Alien Isolation videogame. The game reportedly marks a return to the terror of the original “Alien” film in which scaring the audience to death was the goal, rather than the uncorking escalating levels of defensive firepower that defined the sequels.
Collection: The Allure of a Red DressCollection: The Allure of a Red Dress in Art Features More Like This
The Allure of a Red Dress
Maybe it’s being the color of blood that makes red such a strong color, especially when displayed in public. It is exotic–a matador’s cape, or a vampire’s, or a flamenco dancer’s skirts. Most women have their “little black dress” for evening’s out. Black tells no secrets. It’s on the occasion of the “red dress” that we suddenly wonder what’s on the someone’s mind.
The message of “red” in novels, films and music is passion barely controlled, of sexual temptation. It is a flashing warning light. Plastic surgery made John Dillinger
Burying A Sci-Fi ClicheBurying A Sci-Fi Cliche in Art Features More Like This
Burying A Sci-Fi Cliché
if I were a writer by In-Ink
From the Dusty Annals of Sci-Fi Cliché History
James Tiptree, Jr. was a writer of science fiction, mostly short stories, whose first work, “Birth of a Salesman,” was published in the May 1968 issue of Analog Science Fiction.
Analog Science Fiction
Warm Worlds & Otherwise
Robots, Aliens and Outcasts:Neill Blomkamp's WorldRobots, Aliens and Outcasts:Neill Blomkamp's World in Art Features More Like This
ROBOTS, ALIENS, AND OUTCASTS: Neill Blomkamp’s World
Alien 5 Melting
Was 1979 the most glorious year in world history?
I will give you three compelling arguments for why the answer is yes. For starters, it inspired the best pop–rock song about coming of age ever recorded: The Smashing Pumpkins’s 1979. Second, it is the year that gave us two groundbreaking developments in sci–fi filmmaking: Ridley Scott’