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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
Addicted to Messy Kisses (Visual) I want to sit on the
roof top in your boxers and kiss
you while listening to you telling me about
the stars that made the constellations on my
face. I want to kiss you when you photograph me,
because that's what I want to remember: loving you
endlessly and boundlessly. I want to kiss you when you
are too tired and too drunk, and watch you slobbering all
over me, while I laugh in your breath on my lips. I want to
kiss you in libraries, when you'll blush and tell me to sto
organized chaosHis brain's like
reflecting muted light.
His brain is architecturally sound,
with perfect corners
organized into neat sections,
metal cutting the spectrum
into cautious pieces.
He tells me he's nothing.
He tells me that he's grown up
from the cracks in the sidewalk
like a dandelion,
and he's been waiting his whole life
for someone to come along
and blow his fucking head off.
He tells me he comes from a bad place,
and I nod
when all I want to do is shake him
and remind him
that everything beautiful
must grow up out of the dirt.
I wanted to write you a lovesong.i.
Summer rain has nothing
on the sound of your laugh,
little pinpricks of sunshine
lounging across the cobbled
streets of midnight,
cooled grey eyes, shining
tears of nightlights
glowing like stars in your cheeks;
in darkened archways,
hollow stone walls
reverberating through my skull --
back to earth, loving
taking root under the city floor,
breathing across cool hands
in warmer songs, notes
bundled under my sheets
thoughts that last all night
and drift between the rafters
of my chest
wanting at last;
pure, starry sky and
dawn rolls down the mountainside,
turrets and towers
crinkle-eyed smile batters
falling -- falling --
more delicate than down
softly into the clouds.
one life into another
the moon has sunk
into my soul; I am losing
but the bloodl
BloodlustIn our private heaven
We satisfy our bloodlust
By breaking each other's skin
With a shinny blade
And tasting the crimson flow
The flow of life
A life of lust and love
The love we feel
For each other
A bloody and guilty love
Of voluntary wounds
And beautiful scars
Our reason to live
Our dirty secret
A secret we both carry
With great pleasure
The only way
We can feel happiness
Lover, I will try to forget you.The moon is braiding
her sighs into my hair
as I tell her 'I
dislike the thought
of being perfect.
Even more because
I always tried for him.'
There is turbulence
in these bones as he
ghosts past me and
into the skyline.
Perhaps it is time
I stop following.
Two LilliesI found my soul,
in a white lily atop a hill,
a red wine sunset
splashed against the sky.
My heart felt her before
I could see,
the flower strongly rooted
petals blowing with a battle cry
against the wind.
The gusts overtime,
testing and strengthening
the precious growth
roots sewn deep.
I sat beside,
your petals open wide
nothing left to hide,
shades of white
despite the soil you came from.
Yet alone you sit
a secret scent,
for me to enjoy
as I read a book,
and talk to you about everything and nothing.
Late into the night.
dew like tear drops,
and I couldn't take you home with me
but I would return again,
Until the day I join you.
How the waves tasted your anklesSince you are the only sailor
of the sea that my moon-
child eyes so easily bleed,
I crumble to shoreline pieces
every time I press my lips
to half-neglected sea glass,
haunted by visions of the way
you rolled cherries on your tongue.
StarsYou fill me up with bubbles,
dreams and futures floating for me.
Using a line of chalk to draw my life plans on me,
outlining where we can go together.
Stars scribbled across my forehead,
highway across my belly.
Breathing in the cars, making a map of our love.
Peaches and CreamPour me a palette of autumn peach,
blend it in the basin of almond milk,
and let it fuse into my cheeks.
Stir memories of a rustic kiss,
a solemn wooden swing.
A gush of wind and its retreat.
An ounce of rain above my brow.
The sentiment of you and me –
the eyes of burning bronze.
An instant left to cling...
...the original blush
of peaches and cream.
the story of a girl made of fire and of bloodThat red dress flowing at her ankles like blood,
rippling against her river thin frame of fire,
she is burning, burning so bloody,
she sweats and she cries and she falls to the ground,
but her eyes dance in the flickering flames
and her heart skips when his voice catches on her pastry flake flesh,
his voice lingers there, rests, soul upon skin, sin upon sin,
her body cooked tender.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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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