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About Literature / Artist kelsey sorgeFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
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Newest Deviations

Riding Bikes
Going off medication is like riding a bike.
The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.
"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.
I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration. I am an exaggeration.
I like to compare mental illnesses to mundane physical activities. Also you should know that I am sick but trying to get better.
Sometimes I relapse and then write poems about it.
It's not even the kind of sick where people bring you soup in bed and soothe your fevered brow. It's the kind of sick where I'm late to work because
:iconestallidos:estallidos 714 397
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.
sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.
i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.
"why do you lie to everyone?" you
"why not?" i reply.
i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someone else for a day.
you make me a nametag with my
real name on it, and i just laugh.
(later i slip it beneath my mattress
and spend the night staring at the ceiling.
see, i've tried myself on one too many
times, and the fit is never right.)
you call me your little compulsive
liar, and i guess that is supposed
to be somewhat affectionate.
or something.
i spin before the mir
:iconestallidos:estallidos 3,012 600
stop ruining autumn.
fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider.
but i liked the idea of it.
two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme.
and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end."
on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape.
lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged hole.
he put a lit candle inside, and we watched it flicker, illuminating the raw edges.
"what is it supposed to be?" i asked him, taking his hand.
"my heart," he said definitively.
like an afterthought.
after that i was too afraid to carve my pumpkin at all.
the leaves changed, or maybe he changed, or maybe i was b
:iconestallidos:estallidos 1,997 474
just don't.

Random Favourites

letter: dear bff
dear bff,
i've never had such a tragic bff before
in fact,
i've never had a bff before
and i never will because you have that spot
along with the little duct tape ring that i
pretend you gave me and i lost.
i'm also writing to you in uncapitalized letters
because you do it, too,
just like kelly, but you don't know her
but i think i have a good taste in friends.
i'm still giving you boings and still watching you get over the boys and
do things with odd numbers and
other things that i don't understand yet
because i'm still trying to know you by kind of peeking
into a window because even though we're bffs,
this is kind of weird.
i wonder if you'll remember me.
:iconbarking-at-cars:barking-at-cars 16 6
Dearest of diaries,
I found a body in my attic early this morning, filthy and somewhat decomposed, naked among old photographs and clothing I’d have never worn again anyway. The body is sewn up in the front like a weathered gym bag, faded and smelling of sweat, mold, failure. It’s a woman and she’s beautiful. Or, she was. It wasn’t hard to see.
There is something cathartic about dragging the body down to my bike. I’d been having problems with my self image in the last few weeks; seeing a woman I might have fallen in love with in life, surely at a distance, in this physical condition made me feel better about the long, wine-stain birthmark over my eye. Did you get in a fight? No, I just got born.
I am driving down the interstate at 3am with the corpse of a stranger thrown over the rear seat of my motorcycle, a blanket barely covering her back, arms and legs dangling loosely to the sides, a spade tied to the back rest. I occasionally hear a faint grinding and rea
:iconinshiningarmor:InShiningArmor 54 47
the shutting of lids
I wore ribbons in my hair
for you today. But I needed to say something more like snow storms
and something louder than the six AM alarm clocks
that pull you back when you've only had a few hours sleep,
but you peel hair from those frown lines
like a sticky toffee cake from its tin. My eyes are just not blue enough
and my dirty pores are tiny peep holes, I drop out
when you look in.
I wore dark jeans and a white vest top today,
but I really wanted to slip under double sheets in pink pajamas
and pull heavy-like-love covers over me
while thousands of people celebrated the birth of somebody
they don't believe in or the start of something
brand new
and they drink skin dry
so their veins look more like train tracks
diving deep inside, but yours did not lead to your heart,
they forced me down your knee cap
and I jumped.
I wore a grey hat today
because the ice on the pavement reminds me of slipping
and slipping reminds me of you
and you remind me
of being cold --
so I wore a grey hat instead o
:iconinmyroom:inmyroom 197 95
Mature content
Nathaniel :iconventurus:venturus 130 123
Seasons of Violet.
We called her Violet, and she was.
We knew her when she was young and pale, during Fall
And when we'd climb old trees, their brittle branches
Like welcoming arms
Would snap in two
And we'd cascade to the earthy ground
Carpeted with golden and red and orange
And as we fell,
Secretly, she'd wish with all the goodness in her heart
That she were a leaf as well
That like a leaf, she could be swept away to some distant place
In arms that would not break
In arms that belonged to people who truly loved her.
We called her Violet, and she was.
And with the changing of the seasons,
Winter had taken away her smile and replaced it with the cold blank
Crooked frown
A frown that could only belong to a soul like hers
To a soul that had wished to be a leaf
But had became only the scent of pomegranate and midnight
Perhaps people would embrace her only to get drunk on her scent
But my love was sincere, and it mingled with her berried essence
As I would try to will life and warmth back into her.
A gift sh
:iconclockwork-aristocrat:clockwork-aristocrat 345 124
dear kelsey...lettertwo
dear kelsey,
          in five years i want you to be -
          as beautiful as you are right at this second.
     p.s: even if you're wearing a too-big t-shirt
            and tracksuit pants
            when you read this.
:icon13-wonderstruck:13-WonderStruck 17 3
If You Love Them Set Them Free by jasinski If You Love Them Set Them Free :iconjasinski:jasinski 4,002 267
dear kelsey...
dear kelsey,
          boys suck.
          you are glorious.
p.s: your eyes aren’t pretty – they’re beautiful.
:icon13-wonderstruck:13-WonderStruck 19 18
Call her drunk, she likes that
You could call her drunk, call her sober or three hundred doves,
dying, bird flu intoxicated and drowning in the deep end of the pool,
chlorinated. You could call her drunk, but she wouldn’t understand your words,
and you’d be slurring again. She’s talking fine. She’s twenty rubber bands,
snapping all at once.
You could call her drunk, but you can’t remember her number.
You could call her drunk but she’s just a little tipsy at this hour, too wild
to be wasting away. You can see her wasting away, but now there are three
of her and you don’t remember if she chugged the bottle
or if it was you.
It doesn’t really make a difference.
:iconamidnightmasquerade:aMidnightMasquerade 42 11
From The Moment Our Feet...
You wear Caution tape as a bandana,
disco ball tiny dots light your dress,
specking you all over with some unorthodox
zest the preacher man you walked out the church
from said you'd never regain; he and they were liars
and hypocrites, just like Ryan and Aaron
and Shawn and Spence, the two you
made up in your head.
I once heard about this place, joint in the wall
and about cutting up rugs but changed
the thought at just cutting up perceptions,
watching your dancing, ain't you a fool? Dancing,
no one's gonna call you a queen but I'll
call you crazy and you'll call me insane
while I echo that since I just told you,
We're making moves and I'm tap dancing
somewhere close to your heart and to the
town of Doubt, pouring gasoline on everything,
lighting a match, 'I'm gonna burn this town
down! It's an inferno!' Let's yell out in Spanish!

I know that tree made a sound in the forest,
ain't no one around to hear it, and your tears are
real, so real even though you were alone that night,
:iconscribblednotes:ScribbledNotes 23 23
I saw the light and
It illumed things I’d rather
not have seen so bright
:iconpseudometry:pseudometry 16 24
winters last tears by Gunsh1n winters last tears :icongunsh1n:Gunsh1n 22 8
Tally Marks
1. I sat, holding on to your hand like you would leave me if I let you go. The summer sun kissed your skin and i watched your clear blue eyes move between the sky and the sea. It was a perfect moment, but it's a moment you try to forget.
2. I've listened to you speak like your life is a waste, like every breath is one too many. I've pleaded that you understand the value of this gift. And you got to watch me stutter, trying, searching to find a good reason to keep you on this earth. I begin to cry and shake when countless reasons enter my head but i can't find the right words.
3. Those sharp white scars in your tan skin are tally marks of self-hatred. I kissed each one gently, but they won't even begin to fade.
4. You wrapped reassurance, compassion and care, tied it with a beautiful red ribbon, and handed it to me when i needed it most. I could never wrap anything as carefully as you.
5. The night rolls on, turning into day as warm tears run down your cheeks, and im out of things to sa
:icona-puffs:a-puffs 30 25


Is anyone else still kicking around on here? No matter how many fresh starts I undergo, DeviantArt remains unchanged.

You can find my latest fresh starts on my webpageFacebook page, or twitter. I'm going to bring some of my old work back into the light of day.

Come say hi and tell me if the sky still looks the same after all of these years.


estallidos's Profile Picture
kelsey sorge
Artist | Literature
United States
When I was little, I thought that looking at video clips and pictures of the sun could blind you.


Add a Comment:
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Feb 12, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
I made the mistake of unfollowing people who stopped submitting at some point, only to leave DA for a long time myself. Apparently, I had taken you off while you were gone and missed your brief return while I was away.

I've rewatched you in hopes you pop in again. :heart:
deadxbirds Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2017
happy belated birthday btw.
andrsrrp Featured By Owner Nov 16, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
did you erase everything you have posted?
PatchworkLynx Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2016   Writer
Happy birthday!!! <3
Angiebeagoodgirl Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
We're still here. Hoping you'll come pour a little more of your heart out so we can watch, curiously comforted that even geniuses are lonely.
deadxbirds Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2015
miss you <3
914four Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Bonne fête!
duermete Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2015   Writer
I found you here 5 years ago and since then I forgot all about deviantart. This morning, when I had the idea to come back here, the first thing I did was try to find you. I searched bits and pieces of your poems that still stuck with me after all this time. I was apparently a successful stalker because here I am and it feels like finding an old friend. One you're happy to see. I've missed you and I hope you are well. 
imostar Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2015
Oh, I though I know u very long times ago, but when I see dates I just don't know, date said I know you from 2009. What is this feeling? Lost memory?
klabas Featured By Owner Nov 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
your poetry brings me to tears
simply beautiful 
I am blessed by your work. 
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