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HeartstringsI felt like a vice
That verdict like a scar
Wrap around my breathing muscles
And crush them
Like glass, splintering into my ribcage
Tumbling through my organs like a cancer
I felt like a noose
That verdict like a scar
Snake around my brain
And squeeze it
Like clay, shaping life into a clever little mold
Draining into my body like a hurricane
And I felt
Like an axe
That verdict like a scar
Slither, ever so quietly, into my life line
Like a snake, sneaking up to his pray
And killing him
Injecting venom into my life steam so quickly
I thought I had died
But little did I know
That was just the bite
Feathersmy words were tiny wooden airplanes
speeding through the universe
as fast as dust.
they strung themselves up on
wires made of fear, attatched
to Venus by the thorns
of the thistle that killed me so long ago.
they searched for a landing place in
Her mind, but got sidetracked
when Her lips spoke the word
Viewpoints.We create ourselves
And we are merely
The products of
Who we perceive ourselves to be
Perceive us to be
So who am I?
Bullshit LiteraturePeople don't write poetry anymore.
No one lets the moon's silver soul slip,
from the end of a fountain pen,
into the only Earthly existence it will ever hold.
Alas, even I am writing this
with a keyboard.
DiseaseSometimes I inhale too many different emotions and they stack up inside my rib cage, tearing at my lungs and weighing me down like bricks. I want to scream to get them out but the wider I open my mouth, the further into my body they sink, determined to intertwine themselves with the fibers of my body. I want to move, flail, dance to get them out but it's like sewing them into my stomach and I'm so overcome that I can't speak or move or think and all I can do is sit and wait and feel these emotions until they sink away into my feet. They're beginning to pile up now, and some days it's hard to walk because they're so heavy, filling me past my knees and it makes me wonder, what am I going to do when they replace the nature echoing inside of me? Because emotions can't be all I have left, I'll lose my mind and my control and be forever a slave to those little airborne parasites that stitched themselves into my airways so long ago.
I Gave My Heart To JulyI gave my heart to July,
In the hopes that he would tug on my heartstrings
And extract my wildest dreams
With his delicate twine fingers
From my mind.
I gave my heart to July,
During the end of this disquieting June
So hopefully he would be able
To smother the fluttering in my ribcage.
I gave my heart to July,
And poured my soul out to him
Laying its indigo ether
On a simple porcelain plate
For him to feed into the dusk.
I gave my heart to July,
And he knew I was his,
Even though we danced seperately,
I in his brother June,
He in the depths of the cosmos,
Waiting breathlessly for his reunion with mother Earth.
I gave my heart to July,
Knowing full well that many other young, desperate girls
May do the same, have done the same,
Because I prayed that he would see deep into my essence
And discern my want for a change,
My prayer for a future.
Noble TreesIf a tree were to walk into an office building
What would he say?
Would he moan about how his roots
Have been destroyed, torn, tarnished?
Would he cry about how his brothers
Have been murdered carelessly?
By axemen, by humans.
Or would he sit, silently,
And pity the fact that humanity
Had been shamelessly murdered?
Suicidal TreesIf you could know
What the walls know
Would you choose to know it?
Would you choose to re-watch
What you've done
How you've lied, cried, and
Within these walls?
Would you choose to relive
All the joys, laughs, and
And take away the singularity
Of the bliss?
And after you've commenced being selfish
Would you resign yourself to watch
The building of these walls
And how the earth groaned
When they were born?
Could you cope with the knowledge
That your comfort destroyed thousands of tiny lives
And would you be able to feel the stress, fear, and
Anger of the walls?
Because you are not the only one
To live between these walls, which are
The trees you have tried to build.
ZL - truce[Alix, Aurelio] PAST, over 9000 years ago (bun you requested this i’m so not sorry)
“Hey,” Aurelio says softly as he sets a coffee down in front of Alix’s face and sits on the desk. “Thought you could use the pick-me-up.”
The other looks up from the appalling amount of paperwork he’s currently working (drowning) in. “Thank you,” Alix says simply and smiles at him. “It’s not as bad for today; only three o’clock and I’ve gotten through this much red tape. That’s something to be said, right?”
Aurelio nods-shrugs. “It’s still the same amount of paperwork, either way, and most of it would do better in a fire or a shredder. Or eaten. Like this.” He quickly tears out one of the coversheets and stuffs it into his mouth, chewing almost comically while he waits for his saliva to work. “Y’ see what I mean?” He evades all of Alix’s attempts to rescue the p
One of the words I’ve been keeping close to the inside of my forehead, almost between both eyes in fact, but like just above that between mark, so that when I blink I can feel the word there…is the word harmony.
It’s a word that I keep in my mind, in that spot aforementioned, not only for what harmony is all about and means and could mean and feels like and gives to me to keep in a spot that binds me to it, but for the fact that keeping one word in mind manages to make a supreme difference to how I think in everything I do and say.
Harmony is something that is. Like if I don’t think about harmony, or am not aware of harmony, it still is. Harmony was, too. I mean harmony was always there in my life, and still is. Yet I never used to hold it in my mind, or even play with its meaning or value, in my mind. So it was like it wasn’t even there, I could say. But I don’t say that, cause it was, simply cause n
Years~And as the Queen came riding up, a one eyed boy made his way over.
Y e a r s ~
And as the Queen came riding up, her humble servant bowed before her.
Babylonian Medley #4: Land of Ten Thousand FacesYou are a Man Aside. A man aside from the mobs. A man aside from the concerns of the petty. A man aside from disorder, aside from destruction.
They call you the secret police. You know better, enough to understand how they can be right when they are so wrong.
You police the secrets. The dark corners, where fiends and malevolent stalk. There are demons in the world, you know, but there are men who would put them to shame. You are a man aside from such men.
You are a man aside from men, a man aside from yourself. For there is no Self among the Men Aside.
And when you don the mask of they that you will be, you put away your fears and jealousies to become something else.
They see a man in black and red. They see a man with a gun, with knives, with the claws and codes and authority to condemn them to darkness forever. They see your mask, and think you a faceless enforcer of the authority that dare not speak its name.
They see you, and they do not understand that you are a Man Aside from all
Babylonian Medley #3: Absolutely PositiveYou made the lentil soup yourself. No-one can make it the way that you do. A dash of this and that. Humble ingredients that are spun together to make a meal fit for a noble. At least, you think so. Many nobles have disagreed with you on the matter.
Perhaps that is why they needed to die.
It isn't that you killed them for lacking in good culinary taste or simply disagreeing with you. But they couldn't appreciate the simple things. They couldn't see the refinement of humility or the grandeur therein. This had many different consequences. One of them was that they were unable to appreciate the best things in life. Another was that you have been been killing them whenever you could get away with it.
That's life, isn't it? And it's also life that you won't be able to kill any more of them. And life that they'll die soon anyway.
It's done. Babylon the great has fallen. Your dreams of empire crushed to dust.
And here you are, all alone, eating lentil soup.
There are books all around you. Surr
Babylonian Medley #1: Sixteen HoursBabylonian Medley: Sixteen Hours
He began his watch before the sun did. The heat of the day had yet to come, and the vanguard winds of a distant storm made the night air even colder than usual. His coat was buttoned tightly, but the cold bit his bones regardless.
More of them would be caught by the storm than would make it here safely, he knew, but for the sake of the lucky few that reached this harbor he would have to wait. Standing there in the dark, it weighed heavily upon him all the more knowing that this would be the final rescue. All available intelligence reported that any route of escape past Damocles' army had disappeared. Anyone who had failed to make it out by now had lost any chance of flight, and anyone left on the sea when the storm hit would be in worse straits than those still under siege.
He checked his watch. There was still no natural light with which to see, but his goggles compensated for that. It was an hour before dawn when the first band of ref
hope is kind of hopelessYou really wouldn’t mind if the screechers came and killed you right now. If they tore you to pieces, ripping through the delicate flesh of your throat and infected you with the only other poison you could decipher as harmful, that would be just fine. The virus, along with the bitter cold despair you’ve felt and have been feeling for as long as you could remember. All your memories of the times before the disaster have faded out of existence, and for the longest time you felt hollow, like you weren’t full. Full of hope and love and comfort like the rest of the others. The feelings of grief, remorse and sorrow have been coming ever closer, day by day, to replacing the cracks where your forgiveness used to be and filling you to the brim with nothing but terror and fright. You have to live every day like this, and to you, it’s okay. You’ve been through worse and you’d be a fatuous coward to back out now.
And to you, it’s all the same, these past f
Room at the Bottom of the UniverseThere is a room at the bottom of the universe. Ive seen it. Despite the location it’s a strangely familiar place. Just as real as this experience seems, but it takes a lot to get there. Although Im grateful, I have no intentions of returning. I’m just happy they decided to let me leave.
Standing naked in a sandstorm. It was the surreal feeling that had come over me within seconds after the light. With a breath, I fell backwards against the blankets of sand. I wasn’t moving, but I was still falling. Drifting for a moment through the oceans of time, askew to the currents. I remember distinctly thinking I was stuck here…between this world …and the next.
Around me as far as the eye can see feet without blood and the overwhelming sound of a checkout scanner in a market of bananas. Fractal patterns made of the gears of man. The cogs of which are ranges, connected at the waist. Engineered with the sole function of turning endlessly. Although just fo
ParisI want my life to be soft. I want it to be nothing but sunrises and twilight, sunflares and moonlight. I don't want to have to deal with noontimes, or 3:32 pm, or 9-o-clock in the morning. Nothing interesting ever happens at 9. It's between the horizon and the sky. It's between the croissants and the salads. It's water. It's melted butter on a sidewalk that's just begun to grow hot. It's a young female's strawberry smoothie that isn't actually a smoothie at all, just pink powdered protein and water because society told her that 200 pounds is 200 too many and she's caved.
My life is full of noontimes. Hot ones, rainy ones, briskly cold yet sunny noontimes. 12 in the afternoon is society's breaking point. It's the point where those who got up with the sun begin to lose their minds, and those who got up with the moon don't have any left. It makes it strikingly obvious that those who elect to wake at noon never, ever had a mind at all.
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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