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aries.i spent the entirety of the trip staring at the little hula girl that was wobbling and rocking out to the radio on your dashboard, hoping that i could just ignore the conversation that just took place, and that if i ignored it enough, it wouldn't have ever existed. but the words were clogging up the front of the car, and i could taste them, and i wanted to wind down the windows and watch them get sucked out and fly backwards down the highway, and never come back. but you hated the sound the wind made, and i had never felt more trapped in my life.
it was times like this i think my crazy aunt was right, and some people really do fit their star signs. i never did, i was too messy and not impulsive enough. and she told me the first day i mentioned how you lured me into your web, that our signs weren't compatible and that we'd clash. that you'd push all my buttons and my temper would fizzle and bubble and explode. i didn't listen. apparently that was the one aspect of my stars i followed
give it up.- how to guarantee a panic attack in the next 24 hrs -
admit out loud how you think you're doing okay, you haven't had a panic attack in at
least three days, and it feels really nice to be calm and in control for once.
- how to sob violently in the cab -
drive through that one street, because yes its shorter, and yes you can
just not look out the window. but come on, did you really think that would work?
- how to sob violently at home -
kid yourself into thinking that you can handle that song/albun/movie/book.
you cant; and you shouldnt. besides, didnt you already tell yourself to toss that out?
winterxxiii. weeks and days and hours of recovery were instantly undone when that song
came on the radio in the cab somewhere 20 minutes away from home and i sat there sobbing
in the car and i could feel the taxi driver feeling awkward with this girl in the back sounding
like a humpback whale, but i didn't know how to stop. i cried while i handed him the
(slightly soggy) change, and i cried up the stairs, into my room and onto the bed.
all that progess, dissolved in the first 7 bars of a song.
flatsound thinking.i remember that once i was about to have a panic attack
and i could feel it building up like storm clouds or a rising tide
and i thought of you, and i imagined the way you smiled
when we woke up next to each other on some guys floor in october of 08
and it just went away. like it faded to the point where i could breathe normally.
i tried it again the other day.
and i swear i almost died from suffocation.
even so.you were my eternal bad feeling.
that lingering kick in my gut, from not knowing what stupid or self destructive thing you would be doing today.
you drank too much, and i tired to pry too many bottles out of your hands in the time i loved you.
not to say i dont still love you, but its different now. its a habit, or just the leftovers of the real thing. somewhere it got too much, the nights got too long, and i was fighting you more than i was fighting for you. the odds were stacking up against us, and i knew i had to get out of there before they buried us.
so i let them bury you.
apart.and I was sitting in the gutter
after trying for the fourth night in a row
to drown you along with
all my other ghosts
and the church
was across the street
cross lit up high in the sky
and it felt
like the complete
opposite of salvation.
it was 4am
and with the neon blue
shining in my eye line
i realised i was alone
i was utterly alone
in the saddest way possible.
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once again
I let my memories guide my lost steps,
Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.
As I walk along the quay,
I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:
She's dying by the street lamps' hands
While the whole city asphyxiates.
Reflecting my own lack of humanity
Over the river's lighted surface,
Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.
Once again, on this breathtaking night,
My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.
Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave
My musical drug, my remaining salvation,
Spreading a sweet poison within me and
Eroding the remaining happiness I still have.
I plug my headphones...
A grin of relief appears on my weary face,
I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.
These notes of violin split the immutable silence,
Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.
This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
The PointIt’s the taste of cake mix on the spoon, that first time you ‘help’ bake a cake.
It’s seeing the bright world afresh after a dark nightmare, when you first wake.
It’s when you make them laugh and, in that moment, everyone loves a clown.
It’s when your heart stops before the roller coaster plummets down, down.
It’s when the lights go out before your favourite band plays and you scream.
It’s that moment you look around and everything’s perfect enough to be a dream.
It’s the anticipation of waiting for a new episode of your favourite television show.
It’s the first time you listen to your favourite record and you just sort of know.
It’s reading a book cover-to-cover and a million times more and still crying at the ending.
It’s the stiff, tight, real feeling of a smiling scab as you watch the wound mending.
It’s when you first meet your best friend and you hate each other (but in a good way).
california wintersthe tears
I rationed have all
run out. Tuesday comes
up behind me and steals
my breath; my cat snores.
she can’t sleep soundly
since she lost her seventh
life. I’m like that, I’m always
worried someone will try to steal
what I’ve already given away.
I miss color. newsprint sobs
washed me out. I am a
blank canvas, I am a faceless,
I am one
of you. I wake up sweating
and it’s winter and I can’t
sleep because my memories
follow me between my sheets;
jake still won’t listen.
we never knew we were the
lucky ones, we scarred, too. don’t
touch me. don’t want
me, don’t bare my bones
when you think I’m not
watching. I’m afraid of
myself. breathing loud
enough that others know
I exist; you follow me,
needing, laughing, it’s
a game. who has lost
the most, we all want
to win; I’m so tired, so scared,
there’s no one in the world
who sees me. I can’t cry.
we’re in a drought.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More