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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
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
YouIf you’re a girl, you’re a girl.
If you’re a boy, you’re a boy.
If you’re white, you’re white.
If you’re black, you’re black.
If you’re gay, you’re gay.
If you’re bi, you’re bi.
If you’re straight, you’re straight.
If you’re religious, you’re religious.
If you’re an atheist, you’re an atheist.
If you’re mentally disabled, you’re still human.
If you’re physically disabled, you’re still human.
For everything you are:
So who are they to judge you for who you are?
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
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.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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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