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awake from my dream state.it was a leap of faith
but i wish someone had pushed me
so i had someone to blame
003its easier to say
"i'm fine, just tired"
than explain the water rising
when really they just asked out of politeness
and don't -actually- care.
039i will write about you until i run out of
words in my blood
or breath in my lungs.
whichever comes first.
001 i am a whirlwind of
an aching heart
a regret that could
031.Things to do;
1) admire the entire city from the rooftop
2) smoke a whole packet of dunhill reds.
shallow breath, aching bones.this feeling is too big for me.
too giant for my small frame to contain
and its spreading and spilling out and
over my insides and leaving me waking
up with bruises from dreams so real
this feeling is too much for me.
i can't carry it all, it leave part of it
dragging alongthe ground behind
me and i tend to forget its there
and i trip over it and fall to ground.
i decided to collect bruises
but i dont have to look to far
they tend to seek me out
and scatter themselves across my skin.
monster.we watched horror movies together in the back room of the shittiest apartment on the west side. the more blood and cheap effects the better you liked them. i was always worried you might be getting ideas. that you might have been too focused on the red and the way it was forced out and how you could replicate in it in full HD.
most would worry about you replicating it on someone else, like the media is forcing down my throat. god dam this world makes me mad sometimes. too busy trying to stop people hurting other people, that they don't notice those hurting themselves.i noticed you. no-one else did though.
i never understood how your heart could be so big for everyone else, but never enough for you. i have never wished for anything as hard as i did when it came to you. i wished for you to heal, for god to swap our places and give your burden to me. i swear if it meant keeping you by my side i wouldnt care if i never saw the light again or if my knees buckled every single morning under t
pressure.she was cracked in places only she could feel, and where the blood could only be tasted, and not seen.
her lips, fingertips and inside her chest. she learned that there are certain body parts prone to being cut or bruised, and her white laced knees could attest to that. but there comes a time when cutting your leg on the coffee table or pinching your stomach with your belt buckle, isn't an accident anymore. its something more, and you know it is. but you can go so long without ever admitting it to yourself, and even longer for anyone else.
confessionalthey say sad girls change their hair color
and forgive their monsters.
i change my morals
and become one.
judgementif you could see the bulletholes,
the brittle bones,
or if you could see me on a saturday,
with a cigarette between my lips,
a handwritten note clenched
in one fist, that contains
only a single word
would you still smile
when you saw me on your porch
seabonesyou told me to walk on water
but all i did was sink to the sandy bottoms
of the salty sea.
the brackish water stung at my eyes
and filled my lungs,
seeking refuge in the spaces between my ribs.
i remember barely breathing
wet inhales and slow exhales of the briny sea
through slightly parted lips.
my heart was lost in a century-old shipwreck
found through the haze of floating sand
granules that looked like dust in sunlight,
fingers wrapping around wood and forgotten memories.
i wondered if this was death,
ocean water pressing down on the hollows in my chest
world moving in slow motion through teal colored lenses.
you told me to walk on water
but all i did was drown.
my heart is a mapmy heart is a map
tracing the roads from me to you--
across the country or across the hall,
seems three thousand miles either way.
route 66 is the path from your collarbone to your navel,
a peek when you changed your shirt in front of me
(and who else could you trust this much?)
i want to travel every part of you
every port and distant shore of you
with planes and cars or tongues and fingers,
leave my footprints and my fingerprints
to mark you, to claim you with my flag:
with my bitemarks, fingertip-shaped bruises
carving a well-worn trail across your torso,
familiar, so i can take it again and again,
my morning walk.
hvirfilbylurin the morning i throb
against a lilac bruise
from the ache i've
carried for you
what if i said i wake up and i look at you
and your skin has not blackened
from disuse, has not paled from
neglect and still
i find perfection in the way
your arms hang like
a willow and the
arch of your back
and the width of
your ribs like a
what if i said i loved you?
impressionismgoodbye to the beautiful girl dancing in the market place
to the music of the human race.
a thousand voices humming, a thousand hearts drumming.
silent longings that no one else can hear.
everyone misunderstands for a sort of sadness.
she's not broken thought we try to fix her
with are ignorant gladness
& perspective of what is real & not.
if i could see through her eyes
i'd see beautiful, unending skies.
stars shining like a feeling of warmth buy the fire.
if only i could hear the music she hears,
but everyone interferes
& i have long since been blind.
goodbye to the beautiful girl sitting in her room.
alone with her perspective & her impressionist
colors & textures of self portraits in the mirror.
everything is clearer
when i am near her.
blue rose into the city backdrop
like balloons, a million for the
morning sun prelude.
i've not slept a dream
but i have cried a salty face
and letters spilled like beans
into my moleskine,
almost as virgin as i once was
with few stories between my covers.
the kettle's belly boils
like my head upon a pillow.
i am guilty for rarely finishing my tea
even when i use the small mugs;
pour, rinse, repeat.
perhaps today i will play dead.
perched behind my blinds
it dawns on me that i am surrounded
by walled neighbours, strangers,
they're just preludes to lovers
the way i am always
prelude to the one.
why stars don't sleep& stars they never sleep
cradled in the gentle limbs of the moon
the sky in ocean's blood
how they love their dawn
never wake to twilight nights
breathe life into mountains
caress sky's limit
& painting life in yellow dots
falling out soundlessly.
starvetoday, i don't hate myself enough
to deny the hungers for -
a cup of coffee that will treat me like sin dancing to the pulse of my bloodstream
the absence of guilt
cracks in personality
screaming poems silently at my reflection
today, i will gorge
on the things i vowed to give up.
today, i will break vows.
today, i am a glutton
for relapse and binge cycles,
for starvation and changing reflections.
tomorrow, i will wish
i could be the skeleton that
hangs in my closet.
[ leave the tears where they lie,
take the fallen stars and ripped up wings,
do not regret spinning circles
around vices. ]
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More