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hey boy, I'm bleeding without youI guess you could say I've been infatuated with death,
but I'm even more consumed by you
in the deadliest way possible.
helium balloon lungsi. You write me notes scribbled on sandpaper
and I run them across my face,
scraping away layers of saccharine skin,
ii. Your eyes, made of cookie crumbs,
I'd like to dip them in milk
and watch them melt,
smoking like dry ice,
iii. You churn my childish heart
in circles and in circles
till I slip into cardiac arrest,
iv. I just remembered that time you
wrapped your arms around me like vines
and held me until you couldn't,
v. Oh what I'd give for a pair of
fortune cookie lungs,
exhaling self-fulfilling prophecy,
vi. I've been fishing for horoscopes,
pasting them onto my bedroom walls
and on the backside of my skin,
hoping that they tell me that
today is the day you will be mine,
vii. But your soul is made up of sins
and I do believe in forgiveness,
but forgive me, for I cannot forget.
a taxidermy fawn,
existing yet comatose,
my soul flickers within a lantern,
releasing a smoke with the scent of
pheromones and vanilla verbena,
but your necromantic whispers
linger in my ears,
so sweet and succulent as peaches,
give me breath,
filling my lungs upon a full moon,
oh i'd so like to take a bite of you,
you and your jungle bred lips,
tropical to taste,
organic to kiss,
jaguar, leopard spots
cover your skin
in patterns painted by the forest,
then a low, throaty growl
slips from your jaw,
haunting me like a past mistake,
but you are wild bamboo
and the sound of my heart beating,
palpitating against soft winters,
pulsing with the rhythm of summer,
for some reason you suit me
in all seasons,
and like gravity
you hold me
so no, i cannot escape you,
for no one can bypass
an autumnal equinox
or an eclipse of the sun,
you only continue to
kindle the flames
you used my wooden ribs to make
and i truly love
that searing sensation in my gut,
steamI'm sprouting crow feathers from my scapulas
while the air is much too thick to swallow,
my body melts into a pool of oil,
poisoning already noxious waters,
Then you find me in the ocean's center
and the water starts to boil
as we become the equator
and lose ourselves under the sun.
as we become ghostsThe air is smooth and thin,
running over my shoulders like buttermilk,
curling wax fingers
and smoke escaping my oak tree bones,
I don't know where I'll end up yet but
I know I'm close,
and I know I'm close because I'm still breathing,
inhaling that charred floral scent
where dahlias are breeding in the curves of my collarbone
and lilacs are blooming between each vertebrae,
intertwining with every rib, climbing them like strands of DNA,
oh you know I wouldn't mind if you used my ribs for a ladder,
go ahead and use me up like some sort of construction worker,
for my body is yours to take, my heart to break,
but I should let you know now that this love is a disease,
it will leave you in ruins with teeth like Aztec tombs rotting inside your mouth,
and it will leave your hands forming empty circles in the sky where the stars should be,
but all of this is okay because when we're together I can see the moon in your eyes
and the sun in your lips,
when they dare form a smile, your kiss
i want you because i shouldn't want you at alli want you like i want succulent strawberries dripping over a white lacy dress,
i want you like i want complete silence on a sweltering august night,
i want you like it's dead rats melting over hot gutters and then it's your hot guts on my body.
i want you and your collarbones tied to my strings of saliva,
i want you smelling like you're some wild wolverine with incisors as sharp as rose petals,
i want you broken and bleeding just so i can nourish your wounds.
i want you dangerously close and always so,
i want you angry as you are passionate,
i want you in ways i don't even understand.
RattlingThe air is still too crisp for my morning skin,
honeydew lungs are ra-ra-rattling and I'm sipping on ice water,
water is made up of such beautiful things,
reflections, refractions, waves, and liquidated lifeforms,
are we dead or are we dying?
I love you, I love you, I love you
and I've only just forgotten to tell you,
so take your molten fingertips and melt me down
oh please just burn down my firewood ribs as death clings to yours,
I am never alone when I am being held by your lonely ghost,
held, hold, holding,
no, I am never alone.
you are my careful ghosti. The air is thick and I'm drinking you in like sunlight through a silver straw,
I'm feeling like my spine has come unzipped and my crayola red innards have become exposed to the cool air,
you're like the slivers in my fingers that I can't pull out,
maybe I should try scraping off layers of skin with tweezers,
goodbye dead cells, hello fresh meat,
damn, why are you so fresh as fuck.
ii. A whirlpool has developed beneath my chest so there goes my sense of sanity,
actually it's more like boiling water, bubbling, spewing out passed my eyes,
and all I've been asking for is for you to either take me or let me go,
let's be honest, I could try to say I am over this whole thing
but I'm not and I don't even want to be.
iii. So let's forget the world,
get lost in each others skin,
tracing ribs like jail bars,
running hands over heartbeats,
brushing lips with lonely aches.
let your wildfire run freei. It's a warm kind of rain and a growling kind of thunder,
throaty and crackling booms,
I've dreamt of this place before,
there's this room made up of tall glass windows,
outside is a wrap around balcony made up of stone with high ledges,
small fir trees grow in between the crackled rock
and I'm breathing slow, soaking in the sky's sweat.
ii. Perspiring and porous clouds melt over this broken land
and I'm realizing this place lives only inside my soul when sleeping.
iii. It is a hazy painting running over the contours of my unconscious mind,
it is airbrushed afterthoughts swirling with watercolor wishes,
it is the place where my nightmares breed and my hopes climb trees,
it is the place where intuition ricochets off instinct,
it is the place that says burn the place down and let your wildfire run free.
short-term memory.and you'll never forget:
When you realized that everybody dies alone.
When you didn't take your eyeliner off one night, so in the morning
your eyes would look as hollow as you felt.
When you spent a year blacking out the sad endings in your books.
(When you wished that life could also work like that.)
When you learnt that "We need a break" means "I am going to break your heart."
When you fell in love with the stars, and the way he says "us."
When he told you, "More than just a long time."
The first time you hung up to the sound of your father laughing.
When you walked home from a party in January, and couldn't remember
if you were still breathing.
When you begged him to let you be sad, and he smiled and said, "No."
When you saw the irony of drawing trees on paper – and how alive you've felt
after being sure you were dead.
frozen/headlightsI am nervous
impressed to the point of
perhaps I am playing the part of
a girlchild, reincarnated from something striped
hands-shaking, violin bones (high-
perhaps it is/has been/will be
is it cliché to make comparisons to
an envelope delivered with a
white settling of
your smile tangles with the
half-poetry you breathe out instinctively, sharp and
you are surprising like
frostbite. the soft teeth of morning
freeze; and I, dull, wordless,
naive and lightning-struck
I am nervous
InkShe looked around the box she was trapped in
As she took the knife and cut open her chest
All that was left of importance to her was her broken pen
Breathing in and out, slowly
Her box was filling with ink...
It was time
She jabbed the pen in her chest
Her wishes skimmed the last of her sanity
Trying to remember when the world was bright
Instead of covered with dark
Her blood turned black
Still obbsessing with her story book dreams
Of taking her pathetic thoughts of insanity
And making her pen drip poetry
So she grabbed her notebook
Her fake reality in stazas
As the snake slithered out of her chest
Her fingers shook as she used her own darkness
Her inky soul to write her last words
For the power of the pen
Poisoned her on the inside
Made her sanity spin out racing thoughts
And pooling ink in the hidden corners of her mind
Until her breaths slowly filled with ink
Turning the coners of her mouths up
As the ink rose in her box
For her eyes cried ink when the gash was made
Shake It OffSelective collective
- coagulating -
regret accumulating against you.
Re - living it was the easy part.
No way. There was no light.
the glow of a ghost.
- heart murmurs -
I paused to savor the expansion of blood in my arteries.
A declaration of demons
- monstrosity -
But honestly, I was just like them. I just wanted my pound of flesh.
SnowLet's lose our faces tonight
Chemical anxiety and paper highs
Thrown to the curb by something stronger, small and white
While stars burn out their insides; Prometheus in the sky.
I always thought you were a lie:
Stinking pop culture curling bright around my eye
But now I wonder if your treasure is something I could find
Leaping from the bass lines into my frenzied, eager mind.
upsmokewhen thinking of you
i like a smoke or six
drive a poisonstick
deep into my lungs
rot might reach my brain
erase our wheezing laughs
nights of nicotine haze
smog mixing with sweat
you're fumes of a cig
wispy, wonderful whirls
absorbed into corners
never to be seen again
smelling of burnt skin
i'm pulled from nostalgia
and light another match
Ghost StoryWhat is this
on the next horizon
holding strong against the wind,
it is a figment,
it is an oil stain,
it is something
less than a blur
and more than a photograph.
untitled 4.12winter nights, summer daze
i beat my fists along the dirt.
i am exhaling smoke and fireflies in angst.
soft teenage rebellion pulses through my veins
and yet i am freezing.
i will become a stone angel in the moonlight
forever frozen in my desperation to escape.
yet as the sun begins to set
and my toes begin to change color
i will sit along the shoreline, crying out
"I exist I exist!"
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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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