Dizzy Girl,you can't cure sorrow. The rainMore Like This
on the windshield is painted
by this traffic's color and you
are just the driver.
Other people pass
with faces blearing,
though I do wish
you could see highway
swallowed by a wash
questions spark in halos
of low street lamps as you veer
toward the center,
her laugh is absent,
Blink your eyes.
She will be at your left and the gust
through the tinted window
will be humid,
you could taste her last spirit
in the smoke and
gossamer, and yousome peopleMore Like This
(the lucky ones)
get songs stuck in their heads.
i, on the other hand,
am left with words
that beat incessantly against
the confines of my brain.
last week, it was "gossamer."
i thought it was whimsical;
that was pleasant.
i saw the word
every which way i turned:
a gossamer veil of sunlight,
a silk shirt like gossamer,
a spider hanging by a thread of it.
i hate the word now,
with all its whimsy washed away;
the hard g is too harsh and garish
against the roof of my mouth,
the double s too serpentine.
it feels numbingly stiff on my tongue,
like some sort of linguistic anomaly,
a could-be word that really shouldn't be.
today, it was your name.
(i never thought
proper nouns counted, but
evidently, they do.)
i didn't see you as much as i heard you,
in the whistling of the breeze
or the creaking of the hardwood floors.
your imposing yet warm presence
near the nape of my neck.
i admit that somewhere
in the recesses of my mind,
19 Years OldI was just nineteen years oldMore Like This
When I cut myself in two
The boy I wanted them to see
And the boy they never knew
Hid my hollow bones away
I've been hiding ever since
Yes, you may see the odd smile
But only ever a glimpse
But my heart was never broken
It was born in several pieces
And with every passing year
The size of the segments decreases
I was just nineteen years old
When I died for the first time
I did not cope so well
With leaving my childhood behind
I didn't want to face up
To these wretched bent back blues
But will I give in to the struggle?
No, with respect I refuse
See my grandfather gave me
The stubborn heart of an ox
I will die before I collapse
A coward I am not
my body's slave is my mind.it's barely summerMore Like This
but i've forgotten how to breathe;
i fall in love with strangers
before they even speak.
it's like i'm
within the pulsating crowd
like a fly trapped in a spider's web;
questions are spun
inferiority screams in my ear
& consumes all thoughts
until i can't hear
all the questions that are caught
between threads of my insecurities,
the fabric of my being -
tightening its grip
with everyone seeing
it's barely summer
but i can feel
each pump of my left ventricle
is an exertion against will,
& leaves me cripple
& frozen, still -
but feeling like i could run
before you could catch me.
i watch the moon
trade places with the sun,
racing against time,
but my day
has still not yet
i.i heard you howlingMore Like This
at two a.m. in the bathroom,
the rain drowning out
i heard you tearing at
the hollow of your throat.
you'd think that no one else would be
as sly as you to know
you aren't really what you say,
you're not okay--
you're not okay.
you named her anne after
the mother that never raised you.
called her your baby,
but never once did she
press her tongue against her teeth.
i saw the song lyrics
scrawled on the back of your hand
when you were sound asleep,
fist in stomach.
she's got bruises on her neck
that match up with yours.
she's got fingers like your daddy;
about that one i'm sure.
i read the words that hung
on the top of your lips.
i read the in betweens
the unders and overs
and the everything i could.
you took her in the
bathroom with you last night,
and i don't remember if
it was howling that i heard,
or illicit-sounding screaming.
she's not what you want her to be.
and i read in the papers
yesterday or the day before
about a girl
Maybe... Perhaps...Maybe ... because our encounters are given as numbered...More Like This
Perhaps ... there could be no poets in the world, but there will always be a poem for you...
Maybe... I want to eat you and fill me of you because I don’t know when I will have you again…
Perhaps... where my heart burns and rests, I will find you, my beauty...
Maybe... because there is no map to the place where we go...
Perhaps... because all of your kisses are stolen…
Maybe... Darkness and light are the work of one mind, features of the same face, blossom of a single tree...
Perhaps... Something special for you, whispering to the foolish hearts like mine...
Maybe ... because you decided to not stay with me...
Perhaps ... I have to resign myself to run away with you...
Maybe... As long as there are eyes that reflect the passions of the eyes who look at you...
Perhaps... The eyes can’t fit on the face of the world, and the eyes do not fit into the earth to admire your beauty...
Maybe ... Suddenly I found
I AmI am the shadow, and I am the lightMore Like This
I am the sunlight, and I am the night
I am the battle, and I am the fighter
I am the water, and I am the fire
I am a raindrop just ready to fall
I am the world, and yet…
No one at all.
Premium Member 'til Hell freezes overWhat's this?More Like This
I've seen this question countless times now. And I decided to answer it
Premium 'til Hell freezes over......
Basically it means that the owner of the account (deviant) has the perks of being a Premium Member until forever, but that is only for Volunteers and Staff Members.
Since recently, deviantART made it possible that you can buy the status for yourself, and it lasts for 7 years.
So who receives it?
Staff Members , Volunteers (and those who bought the status! )
For Staff and Volunteers, after their term is over or they step down from their positions, they become Senior Members. Their 'til Hell Freezes over Premium Membership doesn't go away.
Becasue they work and worked really hard for the Community and deviantART.
And don't you think that this is a really nic
What kind of a wolf I am?What kind of a wolf I am?More Like This
A black one that represents
Mystery, blackness of the soul
Loneliness, sadness an despair
Or am I the white wolf
That is pure,
Not tainted by the cruel world
That only knows forgiveness
Or am I the gray wolf
That is both black
That can take anything on
That comes it's way
And does't depend on anyone
Can anyone guess
Which wolf I am?
Socially awkwardDo you know what it feels like?More Like This
To feel so socially awkward
around people that you feel
uncomfortable in your own skin,
knowing that you don't fit in.
And, you walk away...
thinking that being alone
will be better for you -
but you're wrong.
You just feel even more alone;
even more rejected from society;
perhaps even sad, in some way.
What do you do while waiting for someone?
As you wait, and wait, and wait for them -
hoping they'll come soon
lest you seem like a loner
walking aimlessly around,
causing people to pity you.
And your face gets hot,
you start to sweat because
they know -
they know of how alone you are
and they feel sorry for you.
You're Not?You're anorexic if you're thinMore Like This
You're not? Then you're obese.
If you're different, you're insane
You're not? Then you're a fake.
If you're happy, you're hiding something.
You're not? You must be emo.
If you're dating, you're a slut.
You're not? You must have no friends.
If you're popular, you're a jerk.
You're not? You're a nobody.
If you're quiet, you must be disabled.
You're not? You obnoxious freak.
If you're you, you're wrong.
Then you must be perfect.
Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You...More Like This
No matter the years that pass me by,
It seems I am forever trapped.
For when it comes to deceiving myself,
I'm afraid I'm rather apt.
In the end the truth which I sought to avoid, is now knocking at my door...
A rabid rat that chews at me; one I can't ignore.
And though I might have grown this body, from the lonely years I've seen.
I'm afraid I can only chase the shadow, of my dearest Angeline.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2012
Show me what the stars look like tonight.I’ve fallen in love with wars & darkness.More Like This
The kind of darkness said to have made
shadow monsters of seen-too-much eyes
& the kind of war lands made of
desecrated, dandelion wrists.
I am the wind, the morphine pump
& I’ve carved my bones into stars.
I wear them around my neck
like outward sun marrow
warming my carotid pulse.
These little glow-in-the-dark blankets
aren’t enough to stifle the sounds;
but my anatomy never seemed to fit
together the right way anyway.
how to tell me my scars are beautiful.leave roses with thorns on my stairwell, the kindMore Like This
that would entice me when i was fourteen but now
serve as silent irritation—when we eat steak, use
your thinnest, sharpest knife to cleave the meat
into tiny squares and let me watch you wash it
and put it away when you’re done—open your
packages with your trusty pocket knife, peter
pan boy scout, and when i move in, let me
borrow it; don’t question the t-shirts i order
in winter and the sweatshirts i order during the
sweltering heat of summer—when i lay beside you
at night and talk about the state of the universe
that day, nibble on my ear, scratch my arm, slap
my rump until i giggle and push you away, finally
ready to fall into the quiet abyss of dark and sleep
daughtersmy 5 year old daughter only wants to runMore Like This
through the park, loping beside our wolf-puppy,
both lean & fierce, joyful
as she tosses her hair back
& suddenly I see my body
in hers, tireless & certain,
despite my pounding heart
& damaged limbs, I run&run&
then she gives for a moment,
tumbled full-length in the grass,
feeding the puppy from her cupped hands,
& demanding, scratch my back too!
then down her sides & over the ripples
of her ribcage, her leaping heart
& tummy, still baby-soft,
until the shadows reach us & I
must give her back, inch by inch,
a long, twirling hug
my mother will echo with sad arms,
murmuring, you look really good,
here, now, when we stand alone,
which never means,
you lost weight or
that’s a pretty dress
only us, watching her
& suddenly glad
a timeless ringshe wears me uponMore Like This
her withered hand:
an angel's halo
with no beginning or
she didn't like
but he brushed away the
drops of jupiter
twinkling on her
return but it was
just a fool's
and now i am
a memoir of
because he is
dead but he is
not, he is
gone but he is
here, he is
a memory preserved;
she wears me upon
her withered hand:
the crown of a
king lost in battle
grazes me with her
because soon i
will be a
she will be the
VisitorThere is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,More Like This
wrist-deep in fresh soil. Her hands are birds
It's late, but no one comes to take her home.
The pale moon offers a silver smile -
the clouds disapprove.
Too tired to dream, she buries her legs in sky.
Tonight she is invincible, untouchable,
this frail girl beneath the stars
this death in light.
There is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,
falling to her white knees. Her stare is a pane
The eyes of the living are often murky but
the eyes of the gone
he cried because no one cried for himI found Death crying in the alleyway underneath my apartment window. He crouched, shaking and whimpering out his little mouse of a cry that was muffled by the rumbling cacophony of city night life. He didn't make himself seen and, like the child he was, huddled down and hid his face with his mitten-covered hands.More Like This
Death made eye contact with me as I watched him from the fire escape. He stared with bright blue eyes perfectly framed with long eye lashes. The chill bit and reddened his nose and cheeks, and his tears left frozen paths of black ice against his face. I didn't mean to, it was an accident, he pleaded with me.
I watched him as he shamefully picked up his victim, a tiny little kitten that was half frozen and curled tightly into itself. He tried to stroke it back to life, begging and pressing the small animal into his plush winter coat.
I'm sorry, he lisped, wiping snot onto his sleeve as he cradled the corpse like a beloved baby doll. My eyes followed his tiny
.just try not toMore Like This
that memory, that one
wolf that calls
for the rest
of the pack;
you'll spend all
with them inside
a father's mistakei am the greatest mistake of your lifeMore Like This
but i am yet to meet you.
i have not looked into wine-sodden eyes
and said yes, this is my father
and ruined the rapport you had going
with that quiet blonde in the
have not peered
through half shuttered blinds
and thought yes, this is my other home
and trespassed on the goodwill
of the woman you made your wife
instead of my mother.
have not knelt
beside your sons and daughters as they
etched the world into the pavement
with bright, powdered colours.
i am your daughter but i am no home wrecker,
no quiet lion waiting to roar and lay claim
to a pride that is not mine, has never been mine.
i am yours, but only my blood can
tell you that and i am not likely to bleed for you.
my place is not here in this concrete jungle,
i am a child of paper and ink,
and if you s
I'll Never Grow TiredTonight I'm going to stop youMore Like This
on the porch, we'll stand toe to toe
the way we used to when
the pulse that thrummed
quick and strong through our veins
sang out our young, unbridled hope.
Our eyes will meet and,
just like the first time,
I'll take a moment to run my fingers
through your shining thoughts and
caress the sharp lines of your mind.
I'll lean forward and press my lips onto
the the flower-petal curve of your self-expression,
and that will be enough for you
to take me by the hand
and lead me up the stairs.
In the soft moonlight that filters through
the trees and our gauzy curtains
I'll unbutton your fears and slip them from your shoulders,
revealing smooth broad dreams. And,
careful not to miss a single freckle of insecurity,
I'll kiss my way down to the hollow of your throat,
where your soft-spoken tendencies
rest among unshakable beliefs.
Between the ridges of your ribs I'll count your worries
and smooth them away with my fingertips.
Over the subtle curve of your hips
The Storyteller.Words burst from my fingertips likeMore Like This
Licks of fire, burning paper
Where they etch and score their
Meanings with absolute passion.
The faint, illusory scent of make-believe
Smoke surrounds me like a shroud:
An ensorcelled cloak, its hem stitched with a
Magical thread that imbues me with the
Power of words, its fabric dyed
Dark, shimmering with shades of ambition.
Creatures of all forms and ages begin to
Flit across my page with alarming clarity.
Voices - strident and shy, tenacious and meek -
All attempt to make their stories heard:
There are adventures to be spun in
Stimulating hues of royal blue and jade;
Romances to be told in the
Swelling notes of a sweet serenade;
Downfalls to be declared by the knell of
Death as he leads a doleful black parade.
Day after day, my Muse leads me from
Forest to meadow to coast to city, opening
Portals through which I can glimpse
Alternate realities and different lands altogether,
That I may understand the
Wonders of wor
The Kind of PersonI’m the kind of personMore Like This
Who would kill to remember
But would die to forget;
Who has done awful things
But finds solace in regret.
I’m the kind of person
Who doesn’t like people
But is desperate for friends;
Who loves new beginnings
But fears oncoming ends.
I’m the kind of person
Who aches to be loved
But knows love is a lie;
Who wants to feel alive
But is longing to die.
I’m the kind of person
Who dreams of a future
But is stuck in the past;
Who always plays to win
But is eternally last.
I'm the kind of person
Who smiles at the sun
But is burning with cold;
Who wants to stay young
But is already too old.
I’m the kind of person
Who expects the worst
But tries to keep hope;
Who is good with a blade
But will end it with rope.
Today, this is not my body.This body is wrong.More Like This
I look down, and this cannot be
The clothes are far too tight,
In all the wrong places.
My stomach is plump
But today that is not the problem.
Where is the muscle,
Skin taut over my arms?
Flatten the ugly lumps.
Hunch the shoulders.
This is not my body.
Summertime (For the Quiet Kids)People think I’m lonely,More Like This
People think I’m sad.
I’ve been called lowly,
I’ve been called mad.
There are worse things
I could be than quiet,
There are more harmful
Things I could do,
Just because I’m different,
Doesn’t mean I’m not right too.
Books are my buddies,
My four walls are my friends.
Green Day are my preachers,
AC/DC are my teachers,
Dancing out of my speakers.
I talk with my pen
And I sing from the soul,
Sometimes it’s diamond bright,
Others, it’s black as coal.
Summer is here,
I can feel it
Sweating into my pores,
And whilst some might go for beaches,
I go for so-called bores.
So when you see someone,
Nose in a book,
With a faraway look,
Don’t pity them;
For they are in their own kind of sunshine.
AnxietySometimes,More Like This
Sick isn't something
You can see.
When I'm standing there -
Fists bracing -
For 'no reason at all',
I hope it makes you
Feel big and tall,
To tell me I'm being stupid.
When I can't talk to someone -
Because my throat is dry,
And I feel sick,
Like I can't
Catch my breath,
Like I'm going to cry
Like I'm hurtling
Towards death -
Don't tell me to
'Get over myself'.
When I'm crying -
And my knees
And I'm too scared
And every heart
Makes me jump -
How can you tell me
I need to 'grow up'?
When I can't get on a bus -
Because so many people,
So many eyes,
And my mind is force-feeding
Me so many lies -
Don't tell me I 'think I'm better
Than everyone else'.
I'm trying my hardest.
Really, I am.
Would you tell someone with a broken leg
To just get up and walk?
Would you tell someone with no tongue
To open their mouth and talk?
Would you tell a wingless angel
So tell me why -
When it is
That Gay Boy Sitting Next To YouLook at the gay boy sitting next to you,More Like This
the one who you kick, physically torture and verbally abuse.
Look at his eyes that were once vibrant with life,
and keep in mind that you and your friend's were the one who stole his light.
You called him a sin and condemned him to hell,
every day he walked through the school doors, he was greeted with your intolerant yells.
With your injustice , you treated him as terribly as you pleased,
and when you were through with your torment, you treated him like some sort of disease.
Was religion your actual excuse to act like an ass,
or was there something that you refused to see past?
Because that gay boy who sits next you daily in class,
is the one who knows your present, future and past.
He knows where bullies come from, so don't hide fully behind Christianity.
Because when you go home, you yourself are showered with profanities.
The same fist you used to beat the blue eyed boy,
is the same fist that your father uses to wring around your neck
RelapseHere we go again.More Like This
Another panic attack,
Just when I thought I was done.
Well, ain’t it fun,
To be a nervous wreck?
Only I’m a big kid now.
To be the resident
When you’re not beautiful.
God, I sound emo.
And so maybe I am
(by definition, at least)
But I feel like a sham –
What am I to you?
Would you care
If I lived out my dark little fantasies?
Got swallowed by the dark seas,
Of my soul?
Would you care
If I went back to the blade
That you forbade
Me to seek solace in?
If you knew what went on in my head,
A million different ways
To make me dead,
Would you tell me to just
‘Not feel down’ anymore?
If I could stop feeling this way,
Stop thinking like this?
All I WantI want someone to talk toMore Like This
it may not sound like much
but its all I want of you
I want to never be alone
to never be forced to hear
the silent creaks of my home
I want someone to share with me
to give me the pieces of their day
through tiny conversations, and hearty stories
till there's nothing left to say
I want someone to stay with me
on those many cold nights
when the only thing that can keep me warm
are their sweet whispered delights
I want someone
it hardly matters who
to stick with me
and stay with me through
the transgressions of my days
the weaknesses of my soul
and share the same with me
make me feel whole
I want to someone to talk to
someone's whose hand I can clutch
All I want is a true friend
Surely that isn't too much
-Untitled Poem-Passionate fireMore Like This
Within your heart
In the dark
Are hidden away
Like a plague
Lock it away
Keep it inside
No one will know
What you hide
Keep it secret
Keep it safe
It's not welcome
In this place
Don't let it speak
Don't let it move
Keep it chained
Keep it held down
It has to be
There's no other way
Put it out!
Stomp it down!
Don't let it show
You'll get burnt
You'll be scorched
If it continues
Burning so bright
Drown it in tears
Smother it. Dead.
Hide it away
Destroy it, now!
It's too powerful
It can't stay
It can't live
It's too pure
It's too lovely
No one wants it
To be seen
It disgusts them
Makes them hate
Your very being
It can't win
It must die
Lest you fall
Without a cry
Growing brighter still
In your soul
It glows, warm
Lights the dark
Shines in every
Gives you power
To hold on
Embrace its light
Let it burn