|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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.
I dreamt of a flood and you were the waterLight bulb eyes,
burning through me like
crash into me
as I dream,
your ocean spits me out
through seaweed teeth,
and I love you,
but you blink light
and breathe water,
so not only am I blind,
I am drowning.
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,
blue born licorice whips,
weaving webs for blood spiders on my thighs,
thin cerulean shoelaces tying knots around my wrists,
hold fast, heartbeats pumping like gasoline,
I am living, but I am not alive.
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.
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.
Sugar TeethSugary teeth,
oh I'd cough up my own blood
just to see you smile,
but you taste of cotton candy
and rotting lungs,
making every lick of the lips
a gentle exhalation.
Saltit's one of those
goldfish bowl empty afternoons,
gills grasping for water,
spilling over my aquatic limbs,
so thin boned and cold-blooded,
swordfish lips so sworn to
i cannot see a way out of drowning
in all of this
my fins lie still
as does my two-chambered heart,
you never actually did need any bate,
i hooked myself,
then released my own salty ghost,
you only just laid me out to dry,
gutted and seizing.
I am not RecyclableAs if I were recyclable,
your eyes break me down,
your gaze melts my aluminum limbs
and disintegrates my paper bones,
my heart leaps from the flames
and rides along the surface of your tongue,
because if you only knew how much I love you,
your taste buds would be burning for my blood,
if you only knew,
but you don't,
and I sure as hell can't tell you,
because you would use me
only to then throw me away.
DaughterI have seen my father on his knees,
his hands yanking at his hair
as he cried and convulsed.
He said, "I promise you, it's not worth it,"
and looked up at me
half-empty pill bottle clutched to my chest
with red-rimmed, sullen eyes.
I had never wanted him
to ruin himself for me,
to get caught up in my drool and sleepless nights,
my mud-caked ankles and monthly bleeding,
my hormones and dramas.
I brought him to his knees
made him look at me and say, "Please, don't.
It's never worth it."
Anatomy of loveA broken arm is nothing more than a bone,
You put a cast on it and the healing is on.
But a heart... a heart is attached to your soul
Could a simple cast ever do the job?
Two hands we have with ten fingers to feel,
Yet even half of them can do that still.
But a heart... a heart is very sensitive to touch
Could a damaged heart feel love as such?
Our self, our sense of being is there in our brain,
You can take one side away and be you again.
But a heart... a heart cannot be broken in two
Could a broken heart ever feel for you?
An ever growing knowledge of how we work
An illusion of power and security for what we know
But for love we still have no cure
And a broken heart pain must endure.
The sound and the silenceThe sound of a heart breaking is not like glass shattering
it's a loud, roaring scream of despair
and then silence
for the longest time, all there is, is silence.
But slowly, slowly a beat returns.
Faint, unsteady and fragile.
Like the tentative flutterings of a baby bird's wings, as it learns to fly.
So afraid of falling.
But slowly, slowly, the beat gets louder.
Like a drummer in a marching band.
Nervous and hopeful.
The sound of a heart beating again is like a soldier being welcomed home.
Covered in scars, but happy again.
Ready to face whatever lies ahead.
i l o v e y o ui
Tumbles slowly down the curve of my bottom lip onto your tongue, where you savor the sensuous taste.
Dances up my spine and runs down my arms onto your shoulders and up to your neck, where you're so ticklish you can't help but stifle a giggle and shiver at the sensation.
Infuses into the air in my lungs as I exhale and surrounds us both as you inhale it like smoke,
creating a high like no other.
Please Hate Me As I Do...I felt as though my feeling of happiness would stay along in me,
Though now that it has faded once again I only wish to bleed,
Cartooned a little wish, to wish upon a scar,
My skin brings only pain as blade pierces through my heart,
I hate you for the loneliness,
I hate you for the wish to be eliminated with your fist,
I hate that I feel judgement when you are so fickle,
I hate that I am who I am and not dead yet...
My face has a gaze, one full of emotion, one filled with eyes that look up with hope and,
Everytime I gaze upon those that are happy, my eyes drift away and it feels so maddening,
I cannot be wanted, cannot be held,
I wanna kiss the 12 gauge lying atop of my shelf,
I hate you for all that I can be,
Hate you because you are not me,
I hate you because I'm standing in the mirror,
And I hate you for making me fear,
There is salt in the wound, and there is not enough for me to feel,
Make me wish, make me see, make me feel just what is real,
I hate you,
Unfinished - A Portrait's PoemThe orange sky bleeds blue, onto
skeletal husks disguised as trees,
limbs lost, and searching,
barren of leaves.
It is strange to think
that I feel alone,
They wave to me, please,
chop those lonely trees down.
These golden-frame walls,
they used to hold
life and love and hope and breath,
and may yet,
should these bleak brush strokes change.
But what fruit will grow,
when the stem is cut?
My father has long since withered,
and I am not yet complete.
Snip, snip, snap my tendons.
Sip, sip, sap the blood from my veins.
I am at the mercy of your eyes and mind.
No, please don't look away.
I am not yet complete.
My StoryThat little girl lay her head down that night to go to sleep
She was tied down to her bed, instructed not to make a peep
Still sore from her beating earlier that day
She silently cried and wished there would be a way
Someone would find out, get her out of this mess
If given the chance, she would've immediately said yes
Nobody would've suspected there were problems at home
Yet nobody noticed she always was alone.
She heard the stairs creak, she knew what was next
Why they even did it made her completely perplexed
Laying there sweating in the stifling heat
She knew it was time yet again to be beat
The windows were closed, nobody would hear
The result from her mom after having some beer
She tried not to scream, but the pain was too great
Why was she the victim of so much hate?
By the age of six, she was already dead inside
Having only her stuffed cat for her to confide.
She didn't know, she would never tell
She just hoped someone would hear her yell
Her teacher always used to ask if she w
Railway to heaven
If I lay here
If I enjoy as it vibrates-here
Would you be there so we dont miss again?
If I lay here
If I smile as I spill last tear
Would you smile so you take away the pain?
On preparing to never let goWalking slowly down the hall, arms filled with the day's mail, we spoke of morbid things.
She wants to be reduced to ash and I want to know if I can keep her on my mantle.
She looks at me sideways with a curious face and forgets her footsteps.
It's a little bit morbid, she tells me, deciding it's time to continue shuffling along,
but I think the way I'm trying to picture her perfect urn is probably worse.
There's nothing that I can think of that suits her, though,
and I wonder if I even know her.
Do I scatter you somewhere? You can't visit scatter.
(I think good daughters plant guilt in the carpet pile to trip upon.)
But she doesn't trip, instead she ruminates on how appalling it'd be to divide her in fourths:
she laughs as she's divvying up her body parts for our mantles.
I tell her we'll set up a custody schedule, but only between my closest sister and me;
we're the ones that take care of her. But in reality, I'm not planning on sharing.
She tells me she wants to be in the n
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More