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books as peoplei am not a book to be held upon a shelf, picked up and set down at will. you may set me down, but i will pick myself up and find someone else's hands. someone else will learn my secrets and i will forge new ones on pages you haven't seen. someone else will pick me up, and it will not matter if they open the cover. their hands will be on me. their hands will gently caress my spine.
to willingly open my covers again is to run the risk of having literal and metaphorical doors slammed in my face. to willingly open the covers and share these pages with anyone would be a mistake. you can pry these covers open when i am cold and dead.
continuity?it's just a simple lie
that i'm telling myself
it's just simple distractions
that keep my mind off
forced to trade in your
i'm finding comfort in
every one has become
a possibility for tonight
and now it's hard to tell
the difference between
human emotion and
i just need something
to keep me warm tonight
an unfinished thoughtmy poems keep getting shorter
because i can’t focus,
all my attention
keeps being drawn to you
lackingyou told me so many things
and none turned out to be true
but i can’t even be mad
because of how i love you
sinkthere's a weight on my shoulders that i've been carrying for far too long. there is a hole that goes all the way through my chest. i never wanted this. i guess i wanted you too badly.
from what i've read and learned, the only result of opening yourself up is everything inside you will flee while the doors are open. someone will come and steal everything you own. you will have nothing left. i accidentally left my doors unlocked for the first time in my life, now i'm scrambling to see if there are any pieces left. there aren't.
i thought i could wash out all the sadness but
it's on me like a stain
and bleach is the only detergent left to swallow.
i tried pouring the water out of my boots to see if it'd make me any lighter, but the weight is in my bones and i'm still sinking lower. growing up, i'd always thought quicksand was going to be a much bigger issue than it turned out to be. i'm sinking straight through the concrete instead. i'm still gaining weight.
i found the cure to growing olderwe sat on my couch and listened to talon of the hawk for what felt like weeks. in the midst of our conversation an agreement had been reached on a mutual feeling. by "agreement" i mean i was overflowing with things i had meant to tell you months before. you'd grown older and as you tried to start moving on i moved in under your skin. i've made myself a home there and i'm asking that you don't pull me out.
that was about five months ago. i still miss you as if i hadn't seen you since. in reality, it's only been eight days since i felt your skin against mine. these eyes i left with have neither opened nor closed since they saw you. i've before asleep for four days and awake for the four before them. it's a purgatory of consciousness where cycles are not regulated, instead the hours fold in upon themselves and my entire life has become an episode of my addiction to binging and purging. today is wednesday and i haven't eaten since friday, i'm neglecting myself in an effort to forget how to
.just try not to
that memory, that one
wolf that calls
for the rest
of the pack;
you'll spend all
with them inside
gossamer loveyou will love a woman
who uses the word
too often. she will
diagnose dead artists' descents
into madness and laugh
too loudly at jokes
no one understands.
she will braid crowns of
flowers, she will write poems
in constellations, she will
try to walk like a dancer so
no one can hear her
leave. she will be
an ice sculpture, and when
she cries, you'll convince yourself
she's melting, she loves you, you've
changed her, you've
changed; she will wear you
like a comma, like
an incomplete thought,
in her story, and
she will leave you wondering
crooked kissesAn old man sits at a bus stop,
his ragged clothes soaked
through to his creaky bones.
He grips his beggars cup
tightly, but instead of coins it
overflows with rain water.
Passersby pass by without
giving a second glance, brief
cases clenched in swinging
hands, Bluetooth plugged into
their ears. A little girl dressed
in pink polka dots prances
to his side. Her mouth moves
quickly and his takes time to
form words. She giggles,
drops coins into his cup, and
gives him a kiss on the cheek.
He laughs a crooked grin.
CatatoniaShe scrawls life line tallies on her wrists in scars
to mark each year passed
and haunts bars looking for the love of strangers.
she finds malt whiskey and vermouth; strange mouths to kiss
she tips them back the way a lover might tip her chinny chin
She whispers slurs and looks into the abyss of gin.
He inhales death with the smoky kisses of cigarettes
injects life paraphrasing echoes of love with hypodermics to keep
the hypothermia of loneliness back
but it creeps and creeps
a slow paralysis
under the windowsill, rain falling bleak on the pane to drip
into her veins
soft dark over the threshold of the doorway to her soul
writing ink into her shadow, there -
melting behind the lidded stupor stare of dreamless minds
it stirs and wakes,
invisible monsters sleeping in her chest
they bare their teeth and bleed
pain naked in the light of morning
ugly and beautiful in the honesty of strangers unable to turn
from a car crash in the dusk.
walking in darkness
searching for touch.
To the one I forget to loveSunshine girl,
your feet are itchy for the miles
between your sighs
and hunger scratches
at your throat
but you have a smile
that swallows oceans
and your heart
into the Marinia Trench.
this heaviness in you
is a dandelion
coming home to rest
Cigarrete Smokesometimes you want to
kill the world inside you,
but you can't
because you're too worried
because you can't see the consequences
because you don't like modifications
because you can't make up
well you're excused,
excused from giving a damn,
for the cigarette lighter
(I'm too tired to stomp out the ashes
and blow the smoke away).
A Daughter Now BegottenIf reason could challenge the knowledge of infinity,
the blindness of justice;
should we not call ourselves Gods...
And Gods are we not, for if justice were truly blind,
it would hold the same fate for rich and poor alike...
Under the celestial heaven that shines above,
the beggar's crying face and the rich man's arrogant gaze...
So of The Creation we are, living in throngs of solitudes....
Each solitude made torturous by the lust for more money,
yet eased by the kindness of strangers and the love of God...
Which power of change is made,
unto glory from a prisoner down trod,
to a man of faith, who helped a dying woman in need till loving eclipse.
A daughter now begotten, of starry eyes and golden sun ray locks...
Cherished by God and adored by both parents,
though mother soon to be with the Creator Almighty,
this daughter grows up knowing the brittleness of mortality...
...As her lips of red rose blossoms,
her heart aches as the mourning moon that hides behind the bosom of clouds...
i need a drinkthese city streets don't make me feel alive
like they used to,
i only want
what is out of reach.
my arms feel heavy
weighing me down,
slowing my movements,
with my foot
on the gas pedal
i'm barely learning to crawl.
i just need to clear my head.
i washed the blood
off my hands
and watched it wash
down the drain
i washed the blood off my hands,
i washed the blood off my hands.
an ashy taste in my mouth,
i just need to clear my mind.
i just need some time
i hope you don't mind.
i washed your blood off my hands
and watched your remains
wash down the drain.
these city streets
don't keep me awake anymore,
my mind still races
around every corner,
running every red light,
i just need to breathe.
the winters here
will rattle your
racked with guilt,
you're already shaking.
the winters here
will watch you decay,
i washed the blood off my hands
only to watch it stain
everything i've ever known.
the marks i left
in the snow
serve as a reminder
that i've destro
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