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Holding your heart out for your lover with both hands,
Trusting that they will not harm it,
But not pulling away if they do.
The rushing river we drink from with many others,
Drinking the dirtied flow to purify the stream again
Should there be someone to soil it.
Enduring the pain of truth,
Like breathing pure oxygen
And accepting it into your lungs.
And hate is simply indifference.
It's not like I wanted to write this or anythingshirts, really, what a funny thing to love
it just protects you from the rain
from the wind from the dirt below you from the dirt around you
really just a simple basic necessity of modern life,
nothing that cool or inspiring but
you can buy a shirt at your department store for
five bucks a piece and yet
you can buy a similar garment at a brand name store for thousands
wonder why that is as both objects
protect your skin which protects your organs
which protects your vulnerable heart
probably our shirts are a physical entity of the walls
which we build around us
a sort of armor for our sense of love
guess that some of us feel no need to envelope ourselves
in protection while others feel the need to
spend money on locking their feelings away
and well, you spent your money
why not fall in love with your barriers themselves?
How many timesHow many times have you looked
Upon the palm of your hands
And saw them dry and cracking?
How many times have you looked
At the mankind in front of you
And saw yourself in a glass cage?
How many times have you looked
Into the dream you had
And thought it could be reality?
How many times have you looked
In the eyes of your enemy
And couldn't find yourself?
How many times have I looked that way?
Fatebelieving in Fate is a terrible thing.
i haven't believed in Fate before, but to have
so many horrible things happen to me in
such an Unrelenting, Circular, Never-ending chain
the thought of all these events
just being Innocent, Playful coincidences is
LiesNo, I don't think it's called "gullible."
I don't think it's called "idealism."
Not "oblivious," either.
It wasn't as if I was blind.
I did test the drawbridge before stepping out on it.
I saw pigs and cows and elephants walk past it,
Skipping with each step, cheerful and carefree.
They passed safely.
The bridge didn't even sway.
I, a human, surely don't weigh much more than all those animals.
Or so I believed, until I actually walked on it:
My heart's jealousy was seen as bricks.
Tons, tons of bricks stuffed inside of my emotions
The bridge didn't waver at all as it decided.
It snapped, and with almost a pushing force,
It threw me into oblivion.
Darknessevery night is the same
every night it is the same
every night the same pain strikes me
chest pains, that is
his name is Darkness,
my friend who is about fifteen times large as me
his hand holds me every night in a tight embrace
squeezing the air out of me
feeding off of my blood
and tears, especially tears
he tells me those are the tastiest
and he wants them every night
if i tried to fight,
he would surely win
so i let him take the life out of me
and cry some more
and drink liters and liters of water every night,
letting my eyes flow a river
Darkness likes to keep me alive though
he sucks up the tears,
never is merciful enough to let me drown in them
i'll never be able to get out of this
every time i try to whisper
he reminds me of a name
and suddenly my throat is tight
and there i am
If I Could Fabricate My UniverseIf I could fabricate my universe,
It would surely have a center.
Its center would stand a pinnacle,
And at the pinnacle would be one who cannot exist.
the i don't want to live poemwhen i don't want to live
i don't want to live
and i honestly don't want to live right now
living is too hard too painful too stressful
please take the life away from me
but i'm still alive, see, i have flowing blood
but i don't want to see it anymore
i want to cut and cut and cut all of my blood away
drain it from my body watch my heartbreak drain away
i want to die i want to die i want to die
the feeling of breathing is disgusting to me
my body makes me breathe and i hate it i hate it so much
the pain is almost physical my chest cannot withstand the pressure
please release me from this prison
i never did wrong, i don't deserve a life sentence
a death one would suit me well
but i'm too fucking cowardly to end it all
why do i feel like there's still a point in living
because i promised time i would wait for it
i would wait for time to save me
time has always been on my side
but timing never has
but when i don't want to live
i wish [someone] would tell me
if you die you wou
They try to help me
They're trying, I can tell
I ignore it because they speak words of logic and mine
Mine are words from my flesh
My blood, my skin, my muscles, my organs, my fat, my bones
My brain isn't in it
My brain was shut down by my heart
And I was never strong enough to get it back
They tell me to swim
Learn to swim, stop hanging on an anchor to stay afloat
Swim and swim away
Swim onto an island by yourself where you can be happy
The anchor is the anchor of my ship and I must with it
I want to
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
BloodlustI hate you.
I passionately hate you with every single cell of my body.
Everything about you is so disgusting to me,
So pathetic and annoying.
I hate the way you act and talk.
I absolutely despise your essence in general.
Every time I see you,
My neutral expression falls into a frown.
Or rather, I don't even give enough of a care to frown.
As I try my hardest not to glare,
I bite the inside of my cheek.
So hard that I feel my own teeth digging into flesh,
So that that I taste my own blood.
My blood tastes sweet, and I savor every drop.
But not as sweet as your blood would taste;
Surely yours is sweeter and better to taste than mine.
I would love to take apart your flesh with my own claws
And see your raw composition lying there,
So vulnerable, so pitiful, so... Cute.
So beautiful I'd laugh.
No, not the laugh you'd hear from a usual villain,
But the lighthearted laugh you'd hear from a couple on a date,
A child watching his favorite television show,
A man making jokes with his friends.
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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