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parallel dimensions...
if parallel dimensions exist, then somewhere there is a me that actually lost you. i don't think she is doing very well. i wonder if she has even gotten out of bed. i wonder if she believes that this is all a nightmare she just can't wake up from. i believe i would if i was her.
i feel so very sorry for her, knowing that you are still here with me now. knowing that i can still hear the solidarity, the steadiness, the safety...the things in your voice that are justified but i cannot explain because the english language does not have enough words for describing sound.
i think that's part of why sometimes we only make noises to each other. words cannot say enough, because they are filled with complications. connotations that differ between people from that main denotation. so we roar, we whimper, we sigh, we make that noise like getting comfortable in the crook of the other's neck. they tend to get more across, or at least they are sounds not as weak as structured consonants and vowels li
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 0 0
no lips, please
I'll kiss you first
if you kiss me
but I'm not ready for lips just yet
just pelvic bones, please
with a side of clavicles,
and the curve of your back,
as you tower over me,
four limbs on each exit.
just your hair, please,
that long, soft hair,
like an evening in silk,
perfumed with the scent
of summer evenings.
(those ripe summer evenings,
as the sun begins to collapse beyond the mountains,
and our toes dig deeper into the greener grass,
our minds tickled by the idea
of experience and adventure
calling our names.)
no kisses yet, please,
just taut hearts
strung up by our
winking eyes
and numb fingertips.
just tease and trouble
for our mouths tonight.
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 2 0
This is me against your bare chest - because you asked me to rest there, because that's where I want to be.
You have a calm heartbeat, though sometimes it quickens without warning. I can only guess what you're thinking about at those times, just like I can only have nightmares about the scars on your back. My fingers graze along the long lines across your spine, a texture that doesn't match the rest of your skin.
I have to go soon. I always have to go soon. You always have to drive me there, too. And then you hold me for a little longer, telling me you don't want us to part, as if I can change that. I'm late to everything, especially sleep, because of this - because of us. I have never been so proud and excited about an excuse I cannot tell anyone.
I like this feeling of a person, the feeling of health. You are young, strong, vibrant, with the world ahead of you and your skin tight and smooth against your bones. I wonder if I feel that way too, but I won't a
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 3 6
fisheye view of never
with my stomach cemented to the greasy alley floor, you hum a few feet away from me, "down, down, down it goes."
the bottle rolls a tick tack ting when your hand releases its grip on the opaque brown neck. it continues its wind chime gurgle as it leaves us long past when i can't hear it anymore. i imagine it tumbling into the street, neon lights reflected and mirrored along its cheap, curved structure, a moment of tainted beauty before a passing wheel crushes it into dust.
i must be thinking aloud because you hear me murmur incoherently. though, what you hear is "i'm gonna hurl," when i swear i said "once dust, always glass." it's just another miscommunication that we'll forget in the morning - another lost translation of the secrets beneath our tongues.
"the world looks different from here," you observe, your cheek scraping along the dark gray cement as you readjust your head. you never turn to the other side, you just slide your head in a half-circle and get a headache trying
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 5 0
where we are
I remember segments of you.
I'm not sure if they're all real. I'm not sure that they're not the work of my imagination. I used to be able to tell - recall which were my own daydreams and which were actual snapshots of you in the past. Those times when you breathed, smiled, frowned, sang, danced, held me, sobbed, sniffled, rubbed your eyes, and drove with your fingers tapping a beat on the wheel.
- - -
I don't know where I am anymore.
- - -
It's dark. But it's morning. There's an eggshell white wall behind you, layered with blurry posters I can't make out. I know what some of them should be, because I know we're in your room and I've been in your room many times before (though your mom forbade it). I also know that your blanket looks itchy, but it folds nicely along my curves. Our curves.
I can make out your face. It's shaded by a deep ocean blue, but the light that escapes the blinds makes it to the edges of you. Your features are soft. Your eyelids are close together; your nose is sha
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 3 4
Shifting Gear by offbyzero Shifting Gear :iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 6 4
Mature content
death vs dying :iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 3 6
don't operate hearts
when he told that story about the halloween party, you laughed and raised your eyebrows at the part about not knowing how he got home. crazy stuff, he nodded, blue lunchbox in hand as you went through the double front doors of the school. hands were waved and grins exchanged as you went your separate ways for the weekend, both knowing that there was so much the other didn't know. both of you would suffer late nights and itchy veins, but he wouldn't guess the reason you scratched.
you knew you shouldn't have gone along with it. there was a pleading voice in your chest asking him to invite you next time. you'd make sure that he got home, that he was safe under a home-sewn quilt. you wouldn't allow anymore what-ifs or open-ended possibilities when it came to his survival. there was another one screaming at him with volcano tears. how could he be so stupid? how could he be so selfish? how could he toy with his life like that? neither silenced the other, and your body became a cavern
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 2 2
hell is the guilt...
you should hear the things she says. her doting father would rip his ears away, and that never-mentioned mother might set rainbows aflame. but you would be untouched, unharmed. that's why you're the only one who can save me now.
- - -
her words make it seem like she is quietly poised beside me, barely denting the white bedsheets. her skin slides past mine, smooth like marble. cool breath tickles the curve along my neck, chilling my spine with a flush of ice. my lips tremble, my thighs flex, my chest stirs. Her slender, suave fingers curl along my bent knees.
i cannot look at her face when she says these things. instead, i take the easy road, and my eyes shyly stare at her naked hipbones. they delicately rise against her skin, a little above her bruise-colored, laced panties. the pressure high in my thighs, my eyes hastily shift to her arms. anywhere but her face. i will have no boundaries left when that face sinks into my soul.
she tells me things like quick, tonguing kisses on my coll
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 3 4
vertical minefield by offbyzero vertical minefield :iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 7 7
the suffocating silence of...
behind his corneas
an arctic tsunami barrels through.
      - - -
all the turmoil of the city,
the whirring flies
smacking across the window,
the blinking turn signals -
and the lack thereof,
the spill from nonsense lips,
drown him in prickly,
sharp-edged jacks.
he hears everything,
a chaos inside his stirring chest.
but all his masked pleas
(to his rotten wife, to his brother-in-law,
to his niece afraid of the iced desert)
ricochet off their deaf ears.
      - - -
within his arctic desert,
bipolar bears claw the night sky.
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 2 0
just cover me in roses by offbyzero just cover me in roses :iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 2 0
The Different Crow
Nine's first short story is about a murder. Not the physical deletion of a person by another, the horde of crows. They're hanging outside her window in Germany, all gathered along a line of telephone wire, weighing it down. The sky behind them is faded and from time to time they are sprinkled with snow. The fact of the matter is: there's no way she wasn't going to write about them.
She tells it to her twin brother, Niko. He is completely steady as her lips unfold the story. His eyes widen and contort with the rest of his face when particular emotions cross his mind with her words. When she confuses a line, he just tells her to try again. He wants to know the whole story, and he doesn't want her to give up. When she ends, his body still heavily focused on her last words, Nine realizes she could not have wanted a better audience.
However, she decides to grab another one afterward. Nine finds her godfather making lunch and tells him that she has a story. He's confused when there's no pape
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 2 20
It happened a few minutes ago.
No, wait, hours. Hours, right? No, dammit, it was yesterday. Why can't you get this right? Your story has already tripped. How will you ever get the experience behind you if you can't even start it right?
You continue, deciding to deal with your starting sentence later. You'll never finish if you don't move on. There's no point in getting angry with yourself. Trouble is, it's all you're used to being anymore.
It was a blur.
Too cliché. That's not how you want to mark this memory, as something that happened every day. But you don't know how to say it. It has that blurry aura, that sort of thing that happens when the plane is plummeting into the mantle and the oxygen masks burst from the overhead compartments but all you do is stare at the window and watch the world speed a thousand meters too fast. The clouds you can make out, even in their fluffiness, but not the earth. It's just green and brown paint smudges and gray dashes as you cont
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 8 7
Summer in the Sky by offbyzero Summer in the Sky :iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 5 3
No Pictures Left to Hang
She was three hundred school lunches, and one thousand, ninety-nine days of mooching off of her friends' snack packs, and four hundred more spent shushing her screaming intestines.
She was one sick day of flu carried over from the weekend. She was two bottles of cough medicine and toomanyadvilstocount. She was her mother's free time spent mopping up puddles of fresh puke.
She was sick.
She was sixteen birthdays, fifteen Christmases, and one hundred ninety-eight presents all specially chosen for the smile on her face that was never there.
She was ten months of pregnancy and two months of getting there. She was twelve pills of Viagra swallowed with tap water. She was a trip to the baby section of Target and her parents' obvious beams at the checkout. She was a horde of pink things, now neatly folded and put away in the attic.
She was never what anyone expected, including herself.
She was a second glance in the mirror.
She is four closebutnotcloseenough friends, two supportive parents, an
:iconoffbyzero:offbyzero 13 18
you'll see photography, digital art, and literature in here
[all by me, don't use without crediting me and linking back to the deviation & if you're inspired by it, please link back to whatever deviation and tell me, too - I'd like to see. ^_^]

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he clapped and the whole world stopped.
he clapped and the girl at the checkout till stared at him and said, "what the hell are you doing?" but she didn't really say it because it was in her head.
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chrysanthe and lindbergh.
She had never felt this way before. It wasn't something she was used to feeling. Her heart would race, and her lungs would pump out oxygen much too fast for her to catch a breath, causing this whole breathing business to just be completely pointless because it wasn't working. Her stomach felt like it was doing backflips and crazy things to impress the other organs in her body, and they were all going on a riot. Her heart didn't feel like it belonged to her anymore.
His smile. God, his smile. That freaking smile. It was so lopsided and so... boyish and just so broken, but it made Chrys feel so together. Well, maybe not together, since her body could never function properly anymore. But he made her feel... whole again.
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half-naked and knee-deep
when the waves reached the shore, we were standing half-naked and knee-deep waiting to be soaked in salt water.
when the waves reached the shore, we were screaming, holding each other as tight as our cold muscles would permit. when the waves reached our shore the sand filled the gaps between our toes and your hair was wet.
when the waves reached the shore, we were the only ones for miles.
when the waves reached our shore, we fell in love.
when night fell the air froze like our skin, but our hearts endured. when night fell we laid together on the grass in your back yard, our hair thick with dirt and our breath thick with lust. when night fell we couldn't see each other, but we knew the other was smiling, too.
when night fell we watched shy stars emerge from behind the night sky and we counted how many grey spots on the moon.
when night fell, you wrapped me tight in your arms,
and when night fell, you called me your own litte shooting star.
when you died, i didnt cry, i didnt sleep.
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Add a Comment:
Subsi Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2010
"I'm not here anymore"
Well. I miss your writings and photos ):
offbyzero Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2010
Ah, hey Subsi. I miss you. I really do. I'll think I'll go and take a peruse around your account for a little while :3
Subsi Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2010
You remember me! Yay!
but ):
I'm glad you're still around[ish] though! Thank you very much for perusing my account (:
(so many smilies in this, yikes)
xxintention Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
could you be a really big sex machine and make me another avatar/literature tag?
offbyzero Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2010
Ah, I actually can't. Not if you want one right now, but in a couple of weeks I should be able to. The computer that can take editing programs had an episode's been in shop for a while now. I'm sorry =/.
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