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I wanted to share some of my favorite works with all of my watchers!
Don't ask how much writing I've done today.
My Love is Crystal12.6.12
I want my love
to grow into my hands,
blooming like flowers,
reaching like vines
until it reaches you,
however far away.
I want it to hold you
in a way that I can't
and I want it to be
your closest friend
when your ghosts
stick closer than skin,
telling you that
you have to be alone.
Instead, my love
grows like crystals
in my chest and
leaves my breath
whistling a song.
Nostalgiashe fell in love with the sound of
dying storms, and lost herself in
the blind spots accompanying her
every furtive glance
her downturned spine labeled her:
and her relentless divulging to
overcast skies defined her as
needy; but still she offered the
seeds of her pomegranate heart
to anyone willing to settle down
inside the breeze
and she was abandoned, long ago,
(once upon a time, no one cried)
by wolves with insipid fangs
and human eyes (her glittery irises
never quite belonged)
they discarded her when she asked if
self-delusions were a state of mind
she is poorly veiled, so see-through under
our cracked gaze; you can watch her
heart beat and her thoughts spin
(and you can watch her when she
invites death in)
she's a glass asylum, they breathe
in dampened sighs-
and when she shatters to a thousand
pieces, she only smiles
because love would do the same
Ten O' Clock WatcherThe sounds that echo through my eyes when silence
lips, f l i c k e r s my heart beat,
like a star ready to burst,
And if this (black out) of voices doesn't end soon,
I'll go mad
& pretend I
when it's really the sound of my hysteric cries.
The awaiting melody
& the trickery behind them
& how they never came,
letting my secrecy
devour the last bit of
happiness I had left.
I just have to make it - STOP -
so I can catch up
& tie my confessions to a million balloons to
watch them vanish like my love for you.
Regret in a ReflectionShe, unready to receive her reflection,:thumb313624166:
Cries out in deep regret.
Sins that thrive,
And scars that live,
Horrors not to be seen yet-
Pounding on her heart,
Demanding her attention.
She, so naïve of resurrection,
Is unaware of charity.
Tears that fall,
Deep in her soul,
Driving her to madness,
Without clear destination.
Lost within a transformation,
Around the moon of Isis,
Shining down like fire,
Giving light to her reflection.
The Chasingsweat turns to blood as the pressures rise:thumb339929557:
architectures crumble beneath the collapsing skies
they say there's beauty in destruction
but they have never been destroyed
they say there's beauty in distortion
but they are not distorted, they are only blind
and i've wasted too many nights
dancing with a chronic predator
drinking from toxic reservoirs
drowning in the caustic metaphors
you've got such an ironic fetish for
a cannibalistic appetite hiding behind that bolshevik lipstick smile
i know so well
you won't sink your teeth into my weathered flesh so easily this time
i know you well
i left my bloodstained kingdom on your doorstep
take this cup from me, take the crown, i forfeit
Emotional TranslateWith the chill of a gust
In the heat of the moon,
How fixed, loud, rambunctious, done
sweet remedy I've become.
I am death's big soothe
In his disfavor, I won
All pancakes, MiRaClEs, dreams, the Geetar
strums light melody, for one.
Passing age, my Blessing
Though I run, turn to acrobatic leap
How large, clean, wild, done
sweet remedy I've become;
My heart strums light melody
Musing over the MoonI don't think that the moon
wanted to be
imagine a hot rock
released to its own path
by a collision
fission fusion of creation
among the stars
a sun with planets
piece of travel-rounded
into a steady orbit
light the night
guide the ships
pull the tides
make us wonder
let the wolves howl
night after night
about its freedom
upbreakunbelieving big lemonade eyes:thumb327179259:
salt stream tainting your choco latte
my facade rolling in fumes
fiddling pieces of nickel and copper
walking away, cold in a winter coat
there is no last goodbye kiss for us
only soft whimpers and pleas
i lost in the dull people noise
still i tell others what i did to you
was comfortably mutual and agreed upon
untitledall of my beginnings
look like thin slices of
dust motes streaming in my
give me an
let this sunset fire
scream a wild death
I will trace your road map
looking for nothing but an
it's the journey
it's the flight not the crash
(it's the flight
it's the charred wings
it's the teeth of a night intoxicated
with a hunger we can never quite
I am eight years old.I am eight years old.
My lips are perfectly pink. They don't need to look glossy or tinted redder. My cheeks don't need this, either. My eyes stand out well enough on their own without being lined with black paint. The mascara weighs on my lashes and makes me tired and itchy. This shit on my eyelids shouldn't be there, either.
That was a bad word. I am afraid to say bad words, but I've got a few in my head. My friend told me that the word "bitch" means "female dog," but I think she's wrong. I don't think I've ever heard it used in this context. Actually, I think it's a word for people like you. I say this to you with my eyes. You threaten me because you hear me loud and clear.
Every other weekend, I have to sit here and endure as you put this shit on my face. But that's not why you're a bitch. That's why you're an idiot. What makes you a bitch is the fact that you expect me to be silent and still every time your hand slips and the curling iron burns the top of my ear, or you
The Importance of Gold FlecksHereditary.
I learned the meaning of the word when I was young on a summer afternoon. Too hot to play outside, I was sitting with my dad on our blue couch with the small white polka dot fabric. In retrospect, it was probably a tacky piece of furniture, but love is unconditional when you are small, and I sure did love that couch. I remember my dad watching Winnie the Pooh with me every Saturday morning on its spotted cushions. That day, though, we had a conversation about eyes that I never forgot, and even then, its deeper meaning was not lost on me.
"Daddy, your eyes are green like a cat's," I said.
He smiled, and told me that mine were also green, but unlike his, they changed colors. "Sometimes they are blue. Your eyes were so blue when you were a baby! Big and blue.... Someti
my howls are silentI, too, see the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness. We are decomposing too early, our souls dying before our bodies can catch up. We are silently ravenous, a quiet craze in our hearts, not quite the same as your generation, Ginsberg. We do not shriek "Holy! Holy! Holy!" as we burn. We drown soundlessly.
The overeducated, proud products of postmodernism dissolve in a lukewarm soup of ennui, bored balloons filled with hubris rather than helium. Fragile dolls with flaking bones and hair and skin like flowers wilting, weighed down by indomitable wills and insecurities... these plastic girls starve to death and diabetes in the car beside me, fantasizing about food in the passenger seat. Former nymphets gouge symbols into themselves, the bleeding crags physical outlets for the demonic depression, for the memories of beloved older brothers molesting them in the living room, while her mother sits at a hospital bedside beside a fading father.
I see the most remarkable minds crippl
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Brushes by gvalkyrie
i started a new job at a bank. it's not the worst thing i've ever done and i like my coworkers. it's not horribly stressful and the learning curve isn't super steep. but they're already talking about the possibility of promoting me which is terrifying. it would come with more responsibility and i feel like i can only manage myself at this point and not others. while i am flattered that they think i'm a human and capable of doing these things, i don't know how to respectfully decline. so i just nodded and smiled. maybe i'll be shit at sales and they can like realize i'm not worth promoting. i'm still waiting on disability in the meanwhile.
Devious Journal Entry
I dreamt about you and woke with an unfillable ache. You'll never be mine again. Why can't I forget you.