Tawa
24 Watchers5.8K Page Views143 Deviations
S
Synthetic Poisons of Familiarity
This friction within me this enjoyable buzzing sensation I feel it start to overcome me, an act already in progression, it's envelopment of me, making me sick with desire for you. . . the one who, illogical though it may seem, I miss the most. Make me feel for once as if I haven't lost parts of myself to the wind; you, only having had a glimpse, only a faint taste of my temple and mind and feeling the strongest magnetic force (your pain) equally felt (amongst yourself and I), this causing me to fall in love if only with the smallest taste of your skin, the texture of your hands... drowning me in the familiar taste of melancholy, and desire
D
Dirty Razor Resurrection
My mortality is staring me down, a bolt of fire, stopping me in my tracks, every time I see the flashing exit sign, each day that I pass that pipe on the ceiling (so strongly attached, it couldn't break) Staring me down with razor sharp conviction, inspiring razor sharp terror to slice, right through me, stealing my breath, I watch as it begins to slither out, away from me. Thieves made of mist (in my head, they say) pick-pocketing my center of hope, my center of made up truths that I'm working on becoming my reality...whatever that is, taking my ticket to paradise (it's all in my head, they say) All my imagination, schizo-paranoid filled
H
Haze of Desperate Solitude
I stare at the water, pooling so delicately around me, carrying my shame and sadness down the filthy drain, where every other bad, sad, thought has gone before it. Refill the tub each time it gets low, hoping it will sate the emptiness, the loss, the drained parts of me, depleted by misdirection. I try so desperately, day after day, to surround myself with the warmth that I crave, begging for it to be the thing that saves me from my terrors, myself, begging for that warmth to be the thing that redefines the lines         of my reality  . . . I'll keep begging for it, like it's a prayer to save me from myself, no sign of hope, to save
N
Nature Vs. Nurture
Hangs dauntingly above my eyes, dangling, daring me to be beautiful, dangerous, wild! Daring me to fuck conditional, conventional existence; to withdraw from the sun, be born again as a child of the night. To give in, submitting to my nature, instead of teachings from those odd moments of attempted nurture; dragging my ideals into the inferno of satin-smooth pull of the moon, forcing me into moulding my bones and life into what I might have been, had I been able to speak. Nursed by a moon matron, suckling delicious, forbidden fruits and knowledge from her bouldered breast, finding in the craters words long forgotten, learnin
R
Rinse and Repeat
The star is full of sadness and tears fall on the ground Fingertips remembering tenderness and feathery lips Your heart is an anger the makes blood out of me In the morning still our wreckage crusades into the dawn. Fingertips remembering tenderness and feathery lips The roses bloom in the garden, along with a butterfly In the morning still our wreckage crusades into the dawn Seeing the mouth I once kissed dripping with the blood of my love. The roses bloom in the garden, along with a butterfly Your heart is an anger that makes blood of me Seeing the mouth I once kissed dripping with the blood of my love The star is full of sadness
D
Drag King Princess
Never walk, never lead my body side to side with a curve. I begin to mold my arms, borrowing   from tough young saplings, weaving muscles, bulk for myself out of their fibers- I attach my armor- strapped on broadness. My new limbs become strong, thick, squeezed into a tight V-neck, I burst into my plaid jacket; is this manliness? enough? Wondering if I'm starting to look like a side show, freak show. I'll lead with my chest, forehead high, piercing you with my eyes, still unable to hide the empty shadow, so I'll use it as seduction- pelvis forward (drawing a visual power from this mystery), pretending that it's what most im
C
Color Love
Red, I love you, red! Red hips, red flesh, red glory eyes. Red pixie children gliding among ruby trees, leaving red swirls in the dusted air. Red, how I love you. Breathing in thick-satin sheets of red air, shiny red bicycles, waterfalls of scarlet feeding into the red ocean. Red, I LOVE you, red. Red heels clacking on the red pavement, whispering, "red, Red, RED!" Red bodies swaying to red music, red, how I love you.
S
Self
I am the starched preacherman's collar, bristled at all times. I am the unrooted tree, who is raped by the axe. I am the swollen stillness of a summer night. I am a bull dog snappi9ng at thin air. I am soft like the curve of the cactus' flowering waist. I am the leak in a dam, patched over, suffocated by cement. I am the ragtime spilling out of the windows, stolen by the wind. I am the changeling in the arms of a new mother. I am the yellowed pages of a novella, touched too many times. I am sliced open, scattered like a slaughtered calf. I am as detached as the paleness of the dead.
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S
Synthetic Poisons of Familiarity
This friction within me this enjoyable buzzing sensation I feel it start to overcome me, an act already in progression, it's envelopment of me, making me sick with desire for you. . . the one who, illogical though it may seem, I miss the most. Make me feel for once as if I haven't lost parts of myself to the wind; you, only having had a glimpse, only a faint taste of my temple and mind and feeling the strongest magnetic force (your pain) equally felt (amongst yourself and I), this causing me to fall in love if only with the smallest taste of your skin, the texture of your hands... drowning me in the familiar taste of melancholy, and desire
D
Dirty Razor Resurrection
My mortality is staring me down, a bolt of fire, stopping me in my tracks, every time I see the flashing exit sign, each day that I pass that pipe on the ceiling (so strongly attached, it couldn't break) Staring me down with razor sharp conviction, inspiring razor sharp terror to slice, right through me, stealing my breath, I watch as it begins to slither out, away from me. Thieves made of mist (in my head, they say) pick-pocketing my center of hope, my center of made up truths that I'm working on becoming my reality...whatever that is, taking my ticket to paradise (it's all in my head, they say) All my imagination, schizo-paranoid filled
H
Haze of Desperate Solitude
I stare at the water, pooling so delicately around me, carrying my shame and sadness down the filthy drain, where every other bad, sad, thought has gone before it. Refill the tub each time it gets low, hoping it will sate the emptiness, the loss, the drained parts of me, depleted by misdirection. I try so desperately, day after day, to surround myself with the warmth that I crave, begging for it to be the thing that saves me from my terrors, myself, begging for that warmth to be the thing that redefines the lines         of my reality  . . . I'll keep begging for it, like it's a prayer to save me from myself, no sign of hope, to save
N
Nature Vs. Nurture
Hangs dauntingly above my eyes, dangling, daring me to be beautiful, dangerous, wild! Daring me to fuck conditional, conventional existence; to withdraw from the sun, be born again as a child of the night. To give in, submitting to my nature, instead of teachings from those odd moments of attempted nurture; dragging my ideals into the inferno of satin-smooth pull of the moon, forcing me into moulding my bones and life into what I might have been, had I been able to speak. Nursed by a moon matron, suckling delicious, forbidden fruits and knowledge from her bouldered breast, finding in the craters words long forgotten, learnin
R
Rinse and Repeat
The star is full of sadness and tears fall on the ground Fingertips remembering tenderness and feathery lips Your heart is an anger the makes blood out of me In the morning still our wreckage crusades into the dawn. Fingertips remembering tenderness and feathery lips The roses bloom in the garden, along with a butterfly In the morning still our wreckage crusades into the dawn Seeing the mouth I once kissed dripping with the blood of my love. The roses bloom in the garden, along with a butterfly Your heart is an anger that makes blood of me Seeing the mouth I once kissed dripping with the blood of my love The star is full of sadness
D
Drag King Princess
Never walk, never lead my body side to side with a curve. I begin to mold my arms, borrowing   from tough young saplings, weaving muscles, bulk for myself out of their fibers- I attach my armor- strapped on broadness. My new limbs become strong, thick, squeezed into a tight V-neck, I burst into my plaid jacket; is this manliness? enough? Wondering if I'm starting to look like a side show, freak show. I'll lead with my chest, forehead high, piercing you with my eyes, still unable to hide the empty shadow, so I'll use it as seduction- pelvis forward (drawing a visual power from this mystery), pretending that it's what most im
C
Color Love
Red, I love you, red! Red hips, red flesh, red glory eyes. Red pixie children gliding among ruby trees, leaving red swirls in the dusted air. Red, how I love you. Breathing in thick-satin sheets of red air, shiny red bicycles, waterfalls of scarlet feeding into the red ocean. Red, I LOVE you, red. Red heels clacking on the red pavement, whispering, "red, Red, RED!" Red bodies swaying to red music, red, how I love you.
S
Self
I am the starched preacherman's collar, bristled at all times. I am the unrooted tree, who is raped by the axe. I am the swollen stillness of a summer night. I am a bull dog snappi9ng at thin air. I am soft like the curve of the cactus' flowering waist. I am the leak in a dam, patched over, suffocated by cement. I am the ragtime spilling out of the windows, stolen by the wind. I am the changeling in the arms of a new mother. I am the yellowed pages of a novella, touched too many times. I am sliced open, scattered like a slaughtered calf. I am as detached as the paleness of the dead.
Sol gives a hug
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The Witch (Halloween makeup)
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4.4K
Shala Jarias_Color Commission
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329
Zuko and Sasuke
16
87
L
Look At Me.
look at me. really look. because i know you don't see me. you know what? i don't even care anymore. i actually like my body, thank you. i like my eyes. when i'm looking in the light, it would be a nice picture. when i smile, they turn up, reminding my of why i think the Japanese are so inspiring. i actually like my eyes. i like my lips. a little cracked in the winter, perfect in the summer. pouty when i'm frustrated. my lips tell my feelings, when i don't want to. i really like my lips. i like my tummy. it's average. pooches out when i eat too many Ramen noodles. looks really nice in the morning. feels fit when i do sit
Me. :D
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Terribly Unfinished Mandala
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F
Fuel
In bed next to him, your arm follows the swell of your hip and your hand hugs your thigh; you've never felt so alone, or so beautiful. His closed eyes have mapped even the ghost towns of your skin; every time you slipped off your shirt you wished you could outline your contours with a dirty brush, darken your creases. Hot breath shivers on your neck as you leave him for the last time, corkboard walls still rattling in your ears, his father's shouts like accelerant aching for a match. Now your ribs pant, tired from caging your heart puckered lips kissing the same depression below his ear, lungs lolling dead in your mouth.
B
Broken Chains
Some one pinch me Some one wake me up Is this a dream come true? Did I finally say enough? Did I finally break your betrayal bond? Did I finally let you go? Are you finally out of my life? Oh please say its so. No more lies. No more cheating. No more girls. No more deceiving. No more "drive me here" No more brutal fights. No more jail visits. No more you in my sight. No more late night phone calls. No more complaints. No more lingering questions. No more "Amanda, be my saint." No more lonely nights alone. No more control. I broke your chains you had on me, From my wrists and my throat. No more accusations against me.
F
Fenstanton Churchyard
There was nothing about the weather that told us the future; no omens hidden in the wrinkled cloud-banks as they curled, twisted and forewarned rain one black Monday mourn. From the sky, graffiti defiled faces were stained in the first drops of a January flood, as breakwaters crashed and rushed the tracks of the Via Devana. I swam inside, curdling the swells in the hallway and progressed in legionary manner amongst these Roman peristyles- dimly lit from the half-light penumbra in the chandeliers. It was architecturally sound, battered by the storm winds force nine gale and the ever-pressed murmurs of the district council. There we
United States
Deviant for 12 years
Badges
Llama: Llamas are awesome! (6)
This Morning
   This morning sucks. that is all. lol.
Starting A New Chapter
      It's the beginning of not only the new year, but also a new chapter in my life that is going to be a little less hectic than the last two years of hell and drug abuse that I put my body through. I am finally clean, sober, and working on being happy most all day long, so I feel like I feel comfortable coming back and posting all of the writing that I've been postponing putting up here, so expect at least four-five new peices over the next month, as I am available to get on.
It's been a year.... Holy Canoli!
it's been a year since I made a journal, lol, that's great :) d
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TristanCody's avatar
Thank you for the watch!
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lolapolly33|Hobbyist Writer
no problemo :D
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sammiola's avatar
sammiola|Student Photographer
:iconmegustaplz:
yuh yuh. all up in that. uh, yo. and again i say, THE YO!
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AstuteEyes's avatar
AstuteEyes|Student Writer
:heart: Thank you
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lolapolly33|Hobbyist Writer
you're most welcome! well deserved!
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jonskiigator's avatar
jonskiigator|Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the favourite!!!
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