|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
YouIf you’re a girl, you’re a girl.
If you’re a boy, you’re a boy.
If you’re white, you’re white.
If you’re black, you’re black.
If you’re gay, you’re gay.
If you’re bi, you’re bi.
If you’re straight, you’re straight.
If you’re religious, you’re religious.
If you’re an atheist, you’re an atheist.
If you’re mentally disabled, you’re still human.
If you’re physically disabled, you’re still human.
For everything you are:
So who are they to judge you for who you are?
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
daydreams and monsters.she was a girl.
she ran with the moon,
chased fireflies in the bluegrass, and
watched the reflection of sunsets in rain puddles.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
but to the dragonflies she was a queen,
and to the mirror she was a sister.
the moon was her prince, and the
blinking windows were the eyes
that kept her safe.
she spent her nights making wishes, and she
dragged her fingers along the shooting stars
that were tangled with her vertebrae.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
her body was a river
her mind was an ocean
and her heart was the sky.
she lived in a world where
doves flew in the sea and
whales swam in the
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
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.
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
Keep in Touch!
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