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There is always hope.
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Literature
Lungs of Iron
A close study of life instead of a living, breathing model
grinding glass lenses beneath lamplight in early hours of the morning,
spine crunched under soul-less eyes.
Tiny shards the size of stars
return to sand and fill my lungs.
Without my noticing
they make their cuts,
the gradual post mortem of breathing.
With each breath, I aspirate death as easy as winking and peering
down at the shadow cast by the gentle mirror curve.
Press my hand against its concave heart
as though feeling for a beat and
examining the loneliness of this room.
Crush crush crush hush this stillness and
pool it beneath my feet.
Macro-phage cell deaths leapt off a cliff
I march them one bread crumb crumb crumbling after each other in shuttering speeds
eyes flame bright and limbs open as wings or model pose.
Laughing with you casts blood all over your shirt and I step
back to gauge the scene as you look
down through a different viewfinder.
You find me
I find life and death in the same relief,
a Schrodinger's box Pa
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Afternoon Tea by Rosary0fSighs Afternoon Tea :iconrosary0fsighs:Rosary0fSighs 7 0 Deviant ID Nov 2018 by Rosary0fSighs Deviant ID Nov 2018 :iconrosary0fsighs:Rosary0fSighs 1 0
Literature
I Am Not Your Memento
Ghosts grace your lips and traipse their secrets in the lilt, chaining word to word to word. Closing down your speech like a zip - into a line that trembles at the corners. Wraith hands trespass into waking moments, drifting through the gaps in your teeth to twist your smile into a grimace. They clasp tight your heart and squeeze tears of blood.
There haunting your waking moments; spectres lingering in the silt of laughs. They drag them out into a death rattle rasp, whispering: remember me? You wish you could forget.
Killing sweetness, poisoning intimacy, sleeping fishes beneath an ocean bed of unsaid. This is sulphur, magma, bubbling mud and rock pools of words weighing down your pockets as you walk into a dark sea of silence.
You find heaven in the white curve of a bird wing. His little breast rising soft and softly falling, heart crashing in your hands. A tide of murmuring in the spaces of your fingers that cage his body to yours. A hawk rains his feathers over the grass, red
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Literature
How to Paint Yourself Depressed
Chapter 1 -
Allow a slip of the tongue now and then when nobody's looking,
snatch the truth back up and bury it in your pocket
to tumble crumpled into a collection of inky snowflakes in the wash.
Find them again and feel bitter that no one saw their truth.
Cut your heart into breadcrumbs,
spread out for wild animals and left-over the earth,
part of you hoping someone will follow.
Try not to care when they scatter it to the birds.
Hide behind braids of flowers in the garden back,
listen with breath baited for hurried footsteps and searching hands -
a solo game of Marco Polo.
Miss a beautiful afternoon
whispering "I'm here"
choosing to be lost and losing moments.
Hush your heartbeat like a monk's.
Imagine eating monkshood and monkeyhead mushrooms
until it’s quiet for good.
Cross the interstate line that separates dreamtime from the world,
curse the violence of longing for a different life.
Hang a vacant sign over the nape of your neck
smacking against your collarbones
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ID 2- July 2018 by Rosary0fSighs ID 2- July 2018 :iconrosary0fsighs:Rosary0fSighs 2 0 ID July 2018 by Rosary0fSighs ID July 2018 :iconrosary0fsighs:Rosary0fSighs 2 0
Literature
How to Renovate a Life
Step 1 -
Reveal dreams in reverse -
how growing into the skin of a creature the same kin as
monsters that dwelt under your bed
is only a mixture of your own concoction;
you first create the monsters, then become them.
There's nothing there, save for a child's ghost with cloth eyes cut out
a white sheet over its head.
Step 2 -
Sketch a blueprint in charcoal
and make it easy to swallow down
unearthing buried poison and surfacing it -
cast-off cocoons of sadness are not well-loved blankets to cover yourself in.
This pillow fort is not asylum,
but padded walls.
Step 3 -
Strike your hands twelve into the soft red depths of my organs,
signing 'enough' -
a bell tolling time's up on the breadth of hollow self-destruction.
Holding pain and repeating it with compasses tips and blades is the same
as piling the hole of a grave with air
instead of filling it in.
Step 4 -
Shine torch beams into corridors
tiptoeing to peer through the light from under the gap in th
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Literature
Pre-Cambrian Shirt
Unfold into a smaller self
I sleep and sleep for days
unable to find the softest pillow corner
awake each hour of sleep's funeral hush with a spine marked
like the dog-eared page of a book
bent and aged, premature godlessness.
Path leading a lone inward march of nameless worlds inside the self
night shadows pass soundless like a poet's verses spoken in the mind
and abandoned before realisation into ink.
Primordial dawn gives rise to automaton
clock hum to remind or rob of life, clockwork limbs breathe themselves in
to orbit meaning.
Leave milk on the shelf to curdle and
butter to become goose feathered in the dish
I grow my own down.
Pale grey cocoon, a second skin
curds and weight free
this body aches unseen.
I slept and slept for days
made notes in the margins of the bedframe
babel bound in round mouthed screams that haunt the awnings
fur silhouette shedding adolescent sadness,
snakeskin saved in a nest.
From fossil gaps in the bedrock, many deaths and selves left unmourned
new compl
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Literature
Ortelius
Our hearts are mapped through our bodies
fingers follow the wet branch trails, trace the
damp song lines of these river beds.
Our breaths rise in gasps of pearls
red against pillow sails
awake and waiting silent.
These hands shake as we catch the shadows on disturbed shores
we embrace ourselves, loose anchors and
scatter screams in a storm.
Figures wait to cast dark nets at every trade route
they capture light and angle eyes to the shape of graves
fingernails break trying to dig our way out.
Hands to chest, we abandon dreams for dreamless sleep and empty faces
swallow poison draughts, pray to altars void of gods.
Visit gravestones with names destroyed, we
curse the ground
and tread heavy soles on desecrated landscapes.
The violence within us
stills.  
Each winter, the footprints of intruders are buried, dead
no impressions left.
All remembrance lingering as a shipwreck in the silt,
decaying bootlace ligature left for soft-bodied things to feed on.
Skeleton leaf a faded signature b
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Literature
Ghost Hand, Eye of Horus
Eye meets body unknown
embraces a stranger self without experiencing
it as its own
mirror echoes connection and lives there
palm pressed to palm and life lines crossed
sound parrots air, soft movement waves daylight of thought
darkens to disawakened spaciousness
throes occult and opens locked cellar door.
Access this mode to self
calls and hangs up the phone, leaving
static, breath, anxious deaths and broken emotion
beyond the phenomenon of being and possessing
taste of loss, curious reliefs
disappear instead –
separation
           estrangement
disembodiment
at once being within and observing outside or above from alien loft
dehumanised self wondering feelingly at its strangeness
a spectator to lithio or looking glass
outside in and inside out and back again
one foot in self, in body, one eye in world
one foot in the sole of a stranger, an eye in their skull
with hand weighing heart
gazing back at body and
finding no reflection at all
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Literature
Ooh Therapy [Achievement Unlocked]
I’m such a high achiever:
reaction formation so integrated and well-attuned
if you crack me open like a Kinder
Surprise! You’ll find
my skills and attributes include
A well-developed system, nervously waiting in the wings
biting her lips sympathetically
anxiously wringing hands over the slightest fucking thing.
Bonus hypochondriacal Imposter play-acting sham Syndromes
a highly inferior complex (that’s simply underdone).  
One labels other a faker; underperforming weakling sook
catastrophizing constant failure (footnote: both not very good)
they’re immature, malformed, neurotics crying could-haves, nevers,
should-nots, and absolutes.
Defectiveness cognitions - protective defence against vulnerability collapse
absent-mindedly went leave of senses, and roguishly failed to adapt
inadequate incompetents enmeshed in the greater wreck that is my head.
When insight is too uncomfortable, emotions too intense
self-regulation feels impossible, and conflict management
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Literature
Flexibilitas Cerea
With ungloved fingertips they tap light tests -
digital divining wands or rain sticks
MRI pattering a fluid cerebrospinal fingerprint, shape of
water magnifies and vanishes – ink on a desert lake.
Archaeologists wondering if the white curve of my skull is unossified
soft infant fontanel in place of bone.
Their fingers land heavy judgement
this body flickers between two wholes;
illusion of fluttering hearts, both held in one
too-small container.
Raised iliac crests, ribs and clavicles slice
respect and humanity from their gaze – ‘waif’ size
scythes me to an apple core, wastes and
diminishes the weight inside my form.
But the volume of their voices grow as
they
  talk
     
down.
Radius of radius narrows: with it, corresponding diminution of recognisable self-recognition.
Gap between thighs inflate (parallel) distance between us
shelf of my shoulderblades carries scorn and shoulders contempt
mind must emaciate or end all existence.
Traveller fi
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Literature
Hospital Poetry 2017-18
Iliac
Dull ache
shooting stabs dot
my eyes with bright colour spots
white as meteoric stars.
pressure of my own body weight
forcing bones nearer naked of flesh
against the cushionless water mattress
I curl
ammonite
soft translucent alien thing
encased in fossil
tentacles tentative in emergence
try to escape this shell
press anywhere for a tender place to rest
find no pools of water to be weightless in.
A nurse touches the pearl case of my spine
“we’re trying to find a doctor for some pain relief”.
They stab me twice instead
my belly and thigh
B12, thiamine and a blood thinner while I’m on endless bedrest.
Constant companion nurse chides
it would hurt less if there was a layer of fat to find and
cushion the syringe.
I don’t feel the silver slide beneath.
They bring heat packs to press against
my iliac crests
after a week, change the mattress from water to air.
A tattooed lift-team member moves me and the IV poles
to the wheelchair, wraps a blanket ov
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Literature
Nacozari
Heartbeat in his mouth
red and explosive as flame flicker
amber sparks, trickling life blood -
pulse ticking in time with odometer
outrunning and running to unfolding disaster.
Silver lines alight with scarlet fire
gelignite erupts supernova flares
echoes felt thousands of moments and
10 miles away.
Metal turned to liquid magma
headstone embraced.
Life burned bright and fast
a meteor to earth, then sudden darkness.
Name emblazoned on the sign of street corners
sacrificial lambs mourned on tracks with
hands over hearts and
eyes damp with love
silent town with heads bowed
in honor.
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Literature
Ghost Debris
Despair crept a soft foot in the space between
the tip of lip, the liquid of my speech and tongue
stole thought, thief the weight of words
numb melancholy laugh
sleepless draught of water
grief swimming in my temporal lobe
I have been here before -
I occupy this place damp and small
throwing light away into corners.
Passion grown too raw to hold, I let it fall
hollow out this skull
horrify my reflection with the dark mote of my eyes,
sunken as a grave
robber finding only clay where head or stone should lie
grim molar smile and solar eclipse,
every blink a mortal footprint of demise
reaped clods of earth sticking to his boots.
Refresh the day with the wealth of possible realities
epitaph of fantastical mutterings and avoidance
everyday fatalities
I create my pain -
jamais vu of suffering
renovated weakness in extreme.
Pool what goodness in this body remains
I cup my hands and drink it.
We fill my belly with cold
reveal
trace the neutral shapes of us unveiled on the naked
edge of univers
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:iconrosary0fsighs:Rosary0fSighs 39 29

deviantID

Rosary0fSighs
Ruby
Australia
Hi :) I'm Rosie.

I'm studying masters of psychology at university and am working part time as a mental health support worker. I'm a mental health advocate, and want to dedicate my life to helping to support and understand others living with mental illness. I firmly believe in the power and place for peer support work in mental health recovery, and live with Schizoaffective Disorder (Type I bipolar and schizophrenia). I love writing and reading poetry, and reading biographies and memoirs. I also love writing lyrics, singing, and photography.

My heroes are Anne Deveson, Elyn Saks, Irvin Yalom, Daniel Fischer, Matthew Ball, Kay Redfield Jamison, Carl Sagan, Bill Nye, Mama Caxx, and Neil Degrasse Tyson. I admire their courage, passion, resilience, work and writing. I believe that resilience, as well as compassion, empathy, emotional intuition, persistence, grit, courage and drive are the best qualities a person can have.

I'm a street art enthusiast. I love street art and love photographing it. I very much love decaying buildings and urban exploration.

I like records, horror and occult fiction, writing poetry and lyrics, singing, sushi, Placebo, Faun, Katatonia, Alice Glass, A Perfect Circle, Fleurie, Ruelle, Zedd, Yusaf Islam, Billie Holiday, Joni Mitchell, Miles Davis. Gloomy Bear, Hello Kitty, Miffy, Gudetama, antiques, porcelain clown dolls, snow globes, horror movies, myths and legends, silent films.
Interests
Yikes it's been a long time since I've updated! :faint: I hope everyone reading this is well and surviving the stress of the end of year maelstrom O_o 

I haven't logged in for a while (uni and work have been busy and I've been very unwell, but am working hard with my treating team to get back on track) - so it was a lovely surprise to find I was given another DD on my recent poem 'How to Paint Yourself Depressed'

How to Paint Yourself DepressedChapter 1 -
Allow a slip of the tongue now and then when nobody's looking,
snatch the truth back up and bury it in your pocket
to tumble crumpled into a collection of inky snowflakes in the wash.
Find them again and feel bitter that no one saw their truth.
Cut your heart into breadcrumbs,
spread out for wild animals and left-over the earth,
part of you hoping someone will follow.
Try not to care when they scatter it to the birds.
Hide behind braids of flowers in the garden back,
listen with breath baited for hurried footsteps and searching hands -
a solo game of Marco Polo.
Miss a beautiful afternoon
whispering "I'm here"
choosing to be lost and losing moments.
Hush your heartbeat like a monk's.
Imagine eating monkshood and monkeyhead mushrooms
until it’s quiet for good.
Cross the interstate line that separates dreamtime from the world,
curse the violence of longing for a different life.
Hang a vacant sign over the nape of your neck
smacking against your collarbones


I've been invited, along with other writers, to discuss the process of writing this in the CRLiterature chat room on the 15th of December at 11am-1pm Pacific Time (5am on the 16th of December for me heheh): you're more than welcome to join :) (convert that to your local time here if you're interested)

DD Discussion on November 10Have you been to one of our Daily Deviation Discussions yet?  Here's what you've been missing!
It's nice to discuss nuances which aren't immediately obvious based on one's experience and reading of the piece. - neurotype
Aside from the overall welcoming, and friendly nature of the chat, I enjoyed getting a chance to be exposed to the thought processes that take place, and how other people tend to approach the material they read in real-time, and in general. I also enjoyed discovering what goes on in the writer's mind, which highlights the nature of what goes into a piece of writing, and what is brought to it by a reader, and how both sharing their ideas at once can really enhance the interpretation and meaning of a piece, which is so often layered. - Moonbeams
You get to have a different type of discussion in a chat format, rather than a

^ journal about previous CRLiterature chats. 

Otherwise in life update, I'm getting more involved with volunteering with Amnesty International, and hoping to get involved with some research projects at my university next year, so we'll see how that goes. I had a lovely (brief) trip to Tasmania for a conference, and saw a MAGICAL pod of dolphins :rose: that kept surrounding the boat and leaping (which I took a lot of videos of - they were so fast!, and some wombats with their baby joeys in their pouches! Wombat babies are very very cute :heart: :tighthug: 

----


Happy New Year!! :dummy: :iconballoonplz: :iconballooonplz:

I hope everyone had a safe holiday break :huggle:

General life update: 2017 was a seriously difficult year for me with relapses of psychotic depression, but my mental and physical health started to really deteriorate in the last few months, and I was hospitalised again in November after a serious relapse of anorexia. I was medically stabilised and eventually transferred to a mental health unit in early December. I spent part of Xmas in the ward, but was given four hours of leave by the hospital staff to spend with family (which was great of them).

My sister and my parents visited as much as they could which made the world of difference. It was hard not to feel guilty and awful about the impact it's had them, and how much I've scared them to have relapsed so badly again. I couldn't be there for my uni break-up Christmas party, and a peer visited me with a kind of mini Christmas tree made out of pine cones and red wooden flowers, and a card signed by other Masters classmates, which was the loveliest, unexpected surprise. 

I was discharged in time for New Years (hell yeah!), and my heart, kidneys, bloods, and general physical condition are in better shape. As always, though, being in hospital takes its toll - as necessary as it is, there are always a lot of issues that come with it. It was weeks of 24/7 constant care supervision (very painful and frustrating), three weeks of constant bedrest (painful), fluid restrictions to prevent hyponatremia (frustrating and missing coffee and tea like anything), three and a half weeks of NG feeding to prevent refeeding syndrome (painful and uncomfortable), daily ECGs (hate them), multiple injections, IVs, multiple daily blood sugar pricks (irritating), and the endless noise, aggression, stress of the wards. It's a strange state of being, because part of the illness is not understanding how ill you are when you physically and mentally don't feel unwell, even while medical professionals are telling you your body is literally shutting down. So all you can really feel is that you don't need to be there, and you want to leave. 

Of all of it though, what I often found most stressful (aside from the actual mental illnesses) and aside from the invasiveness of constant supervision (which is particularly hard for me when I get so paranoid and have sensory issues) - was the stigmatising, bigoted and ignorant comments from some staff members. I've been in so many hospitals, and I always find it hard, I find it hard every time. It makes things so much harder. A number of staff apologised immediately after making insensitive and stigmatising comments after I became distressed and would later ask me to explain why, but many of them have been working as mental health nurses for decades, and it really still astounds me. There were four nurses in particular, though - two on the medical ward, and two on the mental health ward that really helped me. All of the four of them spent the hours of their constant care shifts with me treating me with compassion and humour, and allowing me dignity and respect and acknowledging my human-ness. I think so many nurses just get completely burnt-out and desensitised. I think it's why every hospital is so similar. This hospital was better than most, but it was still a very distressing few weeks.  

There were also many beautiful, funny moments of laughter, and kindness and understanding between patients, and between staff and patients. I see the raw beauty of compassion every time I'm in the ward when we're in so much pain together. But there is also a lot of dehumanisation and being left alone. On the medical ward, there was a lovely nurse who was on constant care with me who just wanted to make me smile and showed me photos of her birds and puppies, and wanted to hear me sing (even with with feeding tube). When I would be curled up in pain from refeeding or from the bruising of my body against the bed, nurses getting me heat-pack after heat-pack.
There was a lot of kindness in the mental health ward where I had been crying on the floor, unable to get up, and my favourite nurse came and sat on the floor with me and talked until he could help ease my distress and make me laugh. Another mental health nurse who told me she wanted to hear all about my illnesses and understand my experiences as much as she could. To understand my feelings for how mental illness has helped and hurt my university degree. She told me about her daughter who is on the autistic spectrum, and how she felt like she was "meant to talk to me tonight, conversations like this are a blessing and a privilege", and I could tell her it meant the world to me too. 

I'm hopeful for this year. I've been out for less than a week, and I'm still just relieved to have my autonomy back. I'm nervous about returning to uni, but I'm sure it'll feel good to be back.  

I'm incredibly grateful to have received another Daily Deviation for a poem: 

Ghost DebrisDespair crept a soft foot in the space between
the tip of lip, the liquid of my speech and tongue
stole thought, thief the weight of words
numb melancholy laugh
sleepless draught of water
grief swimming in my temporal lobe
I have been here before -
I occupy this place damp and small
throwing light away into corners.
Passion grown too raw to hold, I let it fall
hollow out this skull
horrify my reflection with the dark mote of my eyes,
sunken as a grave
robber finding only clay where head or stone should lie
grim molar smile and solar eclipse,
every blink a mortal footprint of demise
reaped clods of earth sticking to his boots.
Refresh the day with the wealth of possible realities
epitaph of fantastical mutterings and avoidance
everyday fatalities
I create my pain -
jamais vu of suffering
renovated weakness in extreme.
Pool what goodness in this body remains
I cup my hands and drink it.
We fill my belly with cold
reveal
trace the neutral shapes of us unveiled on the naked
edge of univers


and second place in the Helper's contest for 

NacozariHeartbeat in his mouth
red and explosive as flame flicker
amber sparks, trickling life blood -
pulse ticking in time with odometer
outrunning and running to unfolding disaster.
Silver lines alight with scarlet fire
gelignite erupts supernova flares
echoes felt thousands of moments and
10 miles away.
Metal turned to liquid magma
headstone embraced.
Life burned bright and fast
a meteor to earth, then sudden darkness.
Name emblazoned on the sign of street corners
sacrificial lambs mourned on tracks with
hands over hearts and
eyes damp with love
silent town with heads bowed
in honor.
Winners of the Helpers Contest
My Birthday Contest: Helpers has ended! Thank you to everyone who entered. You helped raise $52 for Global Giving! :) And thanks as well to squanpie, akrasiel, and Memnalar for matching my donation! :heart: And now, here are the winners! 
First Place: Armed by neurotype
 

"He thought that making the others afraid would make him less afraid. He didn't understand he was sharing, not transferring, the fear."
neurotype deftly told the tale of a teacher in Tennessee who talked her student out of a school shooting. From the title, I expected a much different story. It was wonderful to find something that ended on a human note. Thank you very much for your entry, and for bringing this amazing woman to my attention. :heart:


Over this past year, uni and illness has meant I have been writing occasionally but not as much as I used to. In hospital it helped a lot to write, so when I have emotional space to process it, I'll post the poetry I wrote. 

How was everyone's break? Were there highlights for you? Goals or resolutions (or intentions not to make them this year?) :heart: :rose:

Wishlist

Withering Veins by NataliaDrepina Withering Veins :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 87 0 Fluttering in the dark by NataliaDrepina Fluttering in the dark :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 88 1 The farewell ritual by NataliaDrepina The farewell ritual :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 201 3 Trampled by strange dreams by NataliaDrepina Trampled by strange dreams :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 129 2 Scars hidden in the dark by NataliaDrepina Scars hidden in the dark :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 125 4 The inspiration aura by NataliaDrepina The inspiration aura :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 164 4 It hurts to see him getting weaker by the day. by NataliaDrepina It hurts to see him getting weaker by the day. :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 235 7 The small kingdom of the dark attic by NataliaDrepina The small kingdom of the dark attic :iconnataliadrepina:NataliaDrepina 249 3

Comments


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:iconbarefootliam:
barefootliam Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Wow, thank you for :+fav: on History Lesson - your writing can be so strong, so powerful; i'm taking it in small doses - it’s so kind of you to notice my piece.
Reply
:iconcomatose-comet:
comatose-comet Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
thank you so much for the watch :dalove::rose:
Reply
:iconpennedinwhite:
PennedinWhite Featured By Owner Aug 2, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
I hope you are doing well. Thinking of you today.

:heart:
Reply
:iconrosary0fsighs:
Rosary0fSighs Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2018
Thank you!! :rose: :heart:
I hope you are well too 
Reply
:iconpennedinwhite:
PennedinWhite Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
I am well, thanks! 


(Thanks for the favorite :heart:)
Reply
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