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Aging and Waking UpStill younger than I am old,
yet I age each day
and I wonder what I am,
what I'm doing,
I know who I used to be,
but who am I now?
sometimes my arms feel longer than my legs,
my knuckles scrape against the ground
and I wonder if the scabs on my skin will
heal and fall off,
though as I fall down,
I know it will feel better to get up,
my heart continues to ache in ways I don't understand,
because being in love with life feels similar to feeling lonely,
so much to feel, to ache for,
it is more than a slow exhalation,
it is excruciatingly beautiful,
I am now more than sick of dreaming,
being alive is being awake.
A Journal Entry on Love and Sleep DisordersI have not written yet this year. I wonder sometimes if I am really alive. I am afraid of what I am because I do not know and not knowing makes me nervous. Anxious. Anxiety: a tight knot in the throat; a welling in the gut; a fast paced mind. My mind, my body. I know all of these aches so well they bring me comfort. I have been tired for so long that feeling awake feels extraordinary. My senses are heightened, I feel more, I cry because I find things beautiful, I get angry out of nowhere. But I do not mind, no I cannot mind for I'd rather feel everything intensely than not be able to feel anything at all. I was numb for so long that waking up has made every moment more passionate. I want my family and friends to understand how deeply I love them. I get overwhelmed by the intensity of love for my other half. There is a physical ache somewhere in my volcanic heart when I think of the way I love him. I could never have guessed this is what love would feel like in a waking mind. I would bl
the way the lights come together,
though your lips part,
you make it easier to breathe when I can feel you exhale.
II. Blossoms on my forearms
and blood on my thighs,
when I see your soft smile
there is a welling beneath my ribs,
this sense of yearning where if honey were love,
I'd want to drowned you in it,
let the syrup sink into your lungs so you could breathe in my love.
III. While I met you when I was asleep,
when I heard your heart beat, I never felt more awake,
and now it's more than that,
I am alive,
the fog has cleared,
my skin is raw,
and clarity has settled in.
IV. The emptiness,
the aching in my chest;
I lost them all upon finding you,
for loss breeds new beginnings
and though this is foreign,
it also feels fresh.
Nightmares, Light, and the Experience of DyingI've got nightmares in my veins,
raw lips and peeled back skin,
you haunt me in the divide,
in the spaces in between,
cut me open,
open at the ankles,
my dreams will escape through my feet,
I once dreamt I was a wolf,
I was everything, I was nothing,
I was throaty growls and teeth tearing into flesh,
give me venison, give me rabbit,
fresh game on a November night,
what happens to the feeling when you decide to let go?
To give into instinct, to intuition,
finding a place where hunger defies rational thought,
I have always been more animal than human,
more carnivore than peacekeeper,
though I have found peace in the cycle of life,
born to die, dying all the time,
thus lucidity floods my mind
and I dissolve into the ocean of death,
but if I were to die now, would I then, truly come alive?
I am not afraid,
for what is death if not a way for us to come together again?
The light that finds me in the dark,
I, a moth, cling to the flickering flames,
to the dim lamp,
I grasp for light in a fiel
After DuskThere's something beautiful to longing,
and I have longed for you even before I met you,
the ache in my chest,
the spaces in between heartbeats,
no, love is not a lie with you.
To Love a WolfI. Lust is a skin disease,
your skin on mine,
our forearms brush
and harmonies fall hard on our backs,
the air runs thick through our opaque paper lungs
as we move in forests of wild bamboo and ripened fruit,
there is an art to being succulent,
ready to be plucked from an orchard tree
as an apple,
as a tangerine,
as a cherry.
II. Love lies in the mind,
in the heart,
a subtle pull, a tug,
and I'm writhing on the floor in heaps of untamed emotion,
to say I love you?
the empathy rolls off my tongue like my own saliva,
I've started swallowing chameleon hearts to blend with the earth,
but you can still see me,
for I never fell for you,
I rise and have risen,
with you, a wolf, I have howled,
the moon has sewn your veins into mine
so not only is this passion, this is love.
Carnivores and LoversThe horizon melts down over my eyelids,
the hot oranges settle into my scalp
until I'm growing flames where my hair should be,
succulent pink flamingos dance among the sunset
and your tongue tastes of cherry wildflowers,
you've got that sweet maraschino blood
that I would love to bathe in,
feel the redness of the sea waters rise over
my pale thighs,
we ride the chills
and soak in the heat,
we're too in love to let go,
the manipulation, the anger, the fear
all have led me to this place,
I no longer live beneath a dulled mind and
I no longer need the rum to satisfy those lonely winter night
and I'd been aching for so long,
though it eased and it eased
as summer passed,
now it's as if I've been plucked from the graveyard
that lies in my own mind,
then you went and caught me in the midst of a rebirth,
you ran your moon carved fingertips
through my fiery fresh locks,
and now you're tracing over my arctic bones
like you want to remember every
so snap me at
To BeginI love your skin,
the way it hums melodies against my own,
that warm buzz that exudes out your pores like honey,
but I love you for more than your skin,
I love your soul and the way it moves me,
the way your chest rises to fall again,
the way you make me feel like I've just begun in an ending world.
A Rush of Blood, The Way Love AchesI feel him feeling me
and then I feel him letting go,
fingertips slip away from my skin,
and my ribs are left with a ghost's impression,
vertical lines run up and down my thighs
and the sun kisses the small of my back,
my blood, oh, my blood,
it runs red as my sins,
my legs break at the synapses
but I can feel the moon putting me back together,
the darkness pulls me but I am no longer afraid,
something tells me I've been here before,
fresh meat, no longer fresh, but tender,
now I'm flipping through the pages of his mind,
but I've found his heart has it's own set of teeth,
for he has latched onto me with leechy fangs
that fall hard against my neck like torrential rain,
my body shivers under chemistry's touch,
helium, krypton, cadmium,
he melts me down,
the way his atoms interact with mine,
but science can't give reason for this kind of state,
the one where bodies are abandoned
and souls catch fire in a colliding wind,
I can feel his essence become mine
and I let go,
I don't need logic w
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
now i see the stars.there was a time when i
couldn't catch my breath whenever i
thought about you , (crippled lungs and-
boy, you hit me like an asteroid,
there's a crater on my chest now that I can't ever seem to fill,
oceans of my tears cried on
nights when you couldn't be there to sing me to sleep.
thirty two poemless days after you joined the constellations,
i walked out into the yard and howled to the empty sky,
for a moment i was Gaea, rivers running down my cheeks,
weighted to the ground and
buried in myself, but
where there is no light there are no shadows, and
sometimes, i wonder if i miss me.
yes, i do.
i may not see the moon, but
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
i am made of nights like theseativan boy, you cannot empty out this skull -
not with a pen nor with a bullet. you can
be my hallowed head(case) for spitting out
words like teeth; oh, but i will only love you
when you're weary. i will keep crows caged
between your lungs like veins, like palpitations.
i will rot you through bones & car radios,
but i will never get (you) out of your skin.
ScienceI am more than my
F L A W S;
a masterpiece of
S C A R S
a delicacy of
D R E A M S
a sculpture of
B O N E S
R E A C T I O N
a well of
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate app
A broken heartI promised myself I'll never fall in love
Whenever I fall in love I feel renewed and happy
But like a drug
Once everything finishes
I'm crying, depressed and the wreckage of my heart
I always end up feeling worse
I want to find someone that is special
But I'm afraid to suffer again
I'm afraid of losing another person
Do not want to suffer
Do not make me suffer, do not lie to me
Do not hurt me, no more
I will not hold on to people who only sink me
I'll be free and live with have left
A cold and lonely spirit.
Alcohol and EmptinessIt's Wednesday night (I think)
and I've had too much to drink,
I feel like talking too much,
maybe saying things I shouldn't,
and it's sad because all of those things
the way you are,
and the ways in which I wish we could be,
you've completely emptied my veins of blood and
you are the alcohol I should never have let in,
but now I can no longer
let you go.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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