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NearnessWhat can I say to sky eyes like that,
Reaching beyond my skin to deeper brain matter
To still my tongue from a rare full heart?
I am not here most days, nor am I there, but in his native dimensions I am
Suddenly blood red here.
And hands that hold with steady grip;
He is a standing shelter from the cold entirety
That engulfs my person;
why i keep you (on the inside of my head)it’s a big feeling when you realise
how close we are to each other in this endless universe.
what seems so far to us
could be a step for someone else;
like an ant on a daisy
saying to another ant on a daisy but an inch away,
"I am too far away."
we are too small for this sky,
too small, and we look up
and the sight of the space is too much for one of us.
we need to eat,
we need to drink,
we need to sleep,
we need to be close.
(i need to be close to you and this is why i keep you
on the inside of my head.)
still on nights like this, it seems
that the drainage holes of Heaven
make me feel like you are just around the corner
instead of across the deepest sea.
Quiet AnswersIt's God, you see
The muse that makes us all seek our completion
It's the hungry hunter
Searching for his meal;
It's when we put
Our words onto a highway to be ridden
That we realise
The stories could be real.
And for so long
I've held it all inside a bony prison
For fear that others
Would not understand;
But here it is,
The truth that is all that really matters:
It is Love I write,
And Love will heal all man.
From a Great HeightConfused, I sat
on the edge of my mind
and asked, why
do we feel like dying
when the only solution
Half-lightI imagine you here.
When I wake, when I drift,
When I daydream
Or take the elevator.
I see you in the curtain-light of dusk,
And passing through the hallway.
I imagine you sweeping the stardust
Off the kitchen counter, and saying
How strange I am. Your hands
Engulf mine and I imagine
You tracing constellations on my back
As I fall slowly, softly asleep,
three twenty a.m., or misty dawn for you I am miles away from you, and I can’t sleep.
I can’t think straight, either. I have been sick today and everything seems sad and strange and blown out of proportion. I know that I should be trying to rest, but instead I sit in the darkness of my room and listen to the night sounds. Cars pass by outside and cut through wind; their headlights travel across my ceiling, leaving shadows as the sound of their motors lingers in the dim lit air. I breathe and try to remember what night sounds like from your bedroom window. Ah, it comes back to me. The sound of stillness, of moonlight and the Milky Way coursing through the arteries of the sky; sleeping animals and fog creeping swiftly down the summer hill before the first light appears.
Thinking of those things makes my body relax. I breathe again and notice my headache is gone. Sitting soberly with my legs under my quilts, I feel the winter on my hands. It isn't as if I miss your hands linking with mine; no, it’s
we have stars, you and I I have stars on my shirt.
You have stars on your car seat covers, and in your night sky,
And I have city lights and aeroplanes that fly low over my apartment buildings. At least it looks very low from my windowsill. I wave and wonder if, from up there, they can see the plaid pants I’m wearing just like I saw and felt everything when I lifted off from your country.
Life is a funny thing. So is love. So are people. I think we have a hard time reconciling the good with the evil; the happy with the sad; the joy with the hurt; the you with the me.
We lean too far towards one side, and we dream too much about it all. We try to cut holes in ourselves so that other people’s odd puzzle arms will fit perfectly into ourselves and so we can go “Look! We fit!” and pretend that we are soul mates. But that’s not how it works. We cannot expect to find perfection with imperfect people and surroundings. The only thing that ever can be perfect is the God in how we
Home is More than a Nounhome is our souls
and what we do with them.
not the decadent tramp of well-worn
boots on familiar sidewalks,
not the shadowed breath of cool
pine in the summer afternoons,
not the heart-dreams of sleep, not the
safety of curtains
nor the wildness of your lovesick thoughts
like the largest thesaurus.
our lives are what our souls say to each other,
their cores being the the earth
of our purpose, and the roots
of our reason.
so you see,
our home is our souls
and what we do with them.
his name is calmi still have our secret codes
from many, many years ago
the legend written on notebook paper in his
scratchy twelve-year-old handwriting.
but as it were, we had no need
for scribbled languages of our own
when we felt it in the air, and in the electricity
of when he looked at me
and the lyrics of all-too-perfect songs
that i wished i could sing someday.
then like that splintering moment
when you realise that you have dreamt this dream before...
we were sparks in the silver winter, and something of a shooting star;
miles above the earth
and he was the only thing that kept my fires burning.
because he was my safety, my belonging,
familiarity and mystery
all in one.
he was growing up, and
he was the lyrics that i will scatter like sugar crystals
throughout my life.
and i could have spent every hour of my waking day with him,
every hour of sleep-filled night and
still lie gazing at his turned face
as if it were the face of everything.
i could have wasted
time with him
but instead i, in my g
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
You're beautifulPlease eat.
Are you listening to me?
If you are,
I want to tell you.
You re beautiful.
It doesn't matter what you weigh,
you shouldn't feel guilty about what you ate.
It doesn't matter,
I promise you things will get better.
Listen to my words,
Hold my hand.
Don't worry about the rest of the world,
It's okay if they don't understand,
How it feels like,
To feel fat,
To feel ugly,
To feel worthless.
You are none of those things.
It s okay to be chubby,
It s okay to be skinny.
Because you have a big heart.
And your smile,
Is like a priceless work of art.
And I don't want to see you destroy,
Because you're more than just a broken toy.
And to everyone else,
So for once let yourself be,
Accept your reflection.
Because you are the definition of perfection.
So don't worry,
Don't be sorry,
To be who you are.
Because you re,
Those Green Eyes (Or: Don't Lie to Your Kid)Those green eyes -
The green of joy
The green of hope
The green of love and acceptance -
Were always full of lies.
They first lied when I said,
After a nightmare at four am
When I was too small to reach a light switch,
“Will you ever leave me?”
And those eyes said,
Why did those green eyes
Shut when I needed them most?
"Are you okay?"
Would be a red line
That I would etch into myself
Those green eyes melted.
Those green eyes did shine
And I knew what it was -
I was young, not stupid -
But I indulged the lie,
For those green eyes.
"Will it get better?"
I asked one sunny Saturday
At ten in the morning
And those green eyes looked away;
“And you’ll be here forever?”
There were no words.
I made up my own affirmative.
Those green eyes -
When they saw
How I’d rubbed myself raw
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
What is Hope?Hope is something we have as children,
It helps us thrive and try our hardest.
Hope is what we express in the worst of times
When all hope seems lost.
Hope is what people possess in life
To work toward our dreams.
Hope is a lie
That's not worth our time.
I Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger TogetherI Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger Together
if i’m being completely honest,
i can’t say i know what you’re goin’ through.
and if i’m being frank,
i’m sort of afraid to write this
because i’ve always been unsure
if i love too much but it’s my nature
and i’d rather lose by trying too hard
than to do so without doing enough.
i hope you’re asleep now
and i hope you don’t read this
till the morning and i hope by then
things will be a little lighter
but i’m hoping against hope
because if you don’t know,
i feel when things are off.
call it intuition, call it a feelin’,
say i just know it.
my friend, my door is always open
even when you’re feeling closed
off to the world and right there,
i can understand that feeling well,
because i still feel we relate to one another
better than most brothers understand their sisters.
know i look at you as a sibling
and i believe we know when the other
AnxietyAnxiety tapping on my door,
"Can I come inside your head?"
I shiver, not ready for its visit.
It charges in, smelling of worry.
Spends a morning, afternoon and night,
playing with my emotions.
A marionette dancing its old tune on rough strings.
Leaves me winded and praying to beat it the next time.
AltruismIt kills me inside
To see others suffering
I want to help
I try to help
But my efforts feel weak
I know I'm doing the best I can
With what I have
But I feel like
It's just not enough
But I keep trying
So I don't lose anymore friends
a sensory afternoongolden-turning,
bare skin, muscles aching...
we closed our salty eyes
and feeling the sun, spread our l i m b s
on the surface of the echoing blanket
while leaves dappled the amber of the long, late day
the smell of petrol and strawberry-marmalade
washed over us,
after warm, sleepy wave
a caramel jawline, caught in the corner of my eyes
spoke to me of a hanging mid-afternoon, sad and sweet
like a decade-old song in the air.
but our fingers were long and limp on our laps
through lines of flushed rhythm, my seafoam blood was smiling,
my heart a wine-press,
my eyes shutting their flicker lenses
to paint this skin-glowing picture
with drowsy, syncopating brush strokes
on the september backseat we sat...
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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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