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Your words,a hammockNo, you can't leave me alone
why do you do this to me
It's sweet that you love her
It's cute that you can
but you're still the only hand I'll grab
when i need to get up
Have I lost you
Do you still hold me high in your heart
do you still love me although we are always apart
I can't think straight
I never could
I do not use this brain I have as much as i should
drowning in a salty sea
one set up by only me
i lay fetal in a closet
for hours at a time
hoping you were there
to take me
I want nothing more
than a still beating heart
but I can't
and I won't
for these diseases are monsters
theyve taken a toll
theyve made me want to die
when you made me push to live
but i dont have you anymore
and i could never hold you
but without your body and just your words
you had cradled me
and made me safe
but now this life i just cant take
A crimson crusadeThe splice of a knife
the pull of a gun
bloody murders just so fun
as they squeal in pain
their soul splitting away
scarlet screams spilling unto me
im running around on a crimson crusade
ask me why
and ill smile real wide
bearing my fangs
dont u are think im sane
because all of you people YOURE HUMAN YOURE THE SAME
im doing this on purpose im letting you leave
im giggling on the surface
i love to see you blee
im climbing through your window with a crimson cape
im no superhero
im a person you should hate
hollowI lay empty
lost inside me
fear ravages at thy soul
a lonesome facade
If i dare close my eyes
will i wake on the other side?
Can reality hear me
will they despise me
as much as i do?
each being as flawless as the sun
But can they see
hollow little me?
Game of sorrowswhy weren't you kinder?
why couldn't I cry in my own home?
I thought it was my sanction
why must you hit?
You gave me nightmares
and ruined sunny days
I've always wanted to leave
but you've made me too scared
and convinced me no one would want me
home always made me cry
mostly because you lay on the couch inside
I now cringe at the word
what kind of a monster are you?
My memories won't go away.
They haunt me and follow me every fucking day.
WHY DID YOU MAKE ME THIS WAY?
I always feel so small and lame
I believe you, no one would want me.
I believe you, I am nothing
Youre so sick
You and your game of sorrows
Im so scared
IM ALWAYS SO SCARED
I wish you were dead
I want you to pay
for making me this way
because now Im so sick with sorrows
untitledI know I've never met you
but I feel like i am floating
when your name pops up
and I always forget im talking to a stranger
because all my thoughts are happy
after I thought I couldnt do that anymore
I spent all my days lonely
saddened by the sun
living every day
for that tiny rae of sunshine beeming through the fog
thank you for taking me away
even if its temporary
I can't be so sad
when I know theres you just a long while away
a dusty figureI'm living in your shadow
trying to get away
but you wont let me
you turned into me and as long as i am changing you are too
i dont want to be seen
who am i kidding?
I really do
But I can't be I cant be
because there's always you
so lithe tall and skinny
with the same personality
I am nothing but a chimpanzee
thats why im a shadow
always second best
only seen by the bearer
I try so hard to keep myself alive
I'm not even seen
I'm not even heard
my words are all but empty
Im living in your shadow
and when i close my eyes theres darkness
and when i open them its still there
it wont ever go away
Im living in your shadow
and there shall I forever stay
no life without lovei once had a heart and then one night it went rather tart
i woke up with a start my chest no longer heaving yet i still felt like i was breathing.
i assume it was the angels teasing,
i was not dead nor alive for some strange reason i hadnt survived the night
i say this because i now see with different eyes
i was frightened i was scared i was bitter i was numb
but then i remembered there is no life without love
have you ever noticedHave you ever noticed that when you cry alone you wantsomeone to be there
but you pushed them away because you wanted to prove you were not weak
In the end theres always that one person who tries so hard to push youforward
and they never truly leave your side
Have you ever noticed theyre that invisible person that brings forth calamity as you cry
well you've still got time, so at least try to notice
DemonpowerHope blossoms for bitter flowers
seeking out a vengeful power
Dreaming of the night
Dreaming of the limited daylight
What a spectacle for the devil!
What an achievement!
the children storm through the town on their bikes and trikes
hoping to hear cries from those they never liked
Hauling bats and hammers blades and daggers
On their latest bone crushing escaped
cosmic lattesmall town diner jukebox
casts 90's pop songs on a loop
across creaking hardwood
and paisley-print cushions;
there's a mustard stain
on the waitress's checkerboard apron,
a run in her hose
and fingernail polish flaking like dandruff
into the burly corner booth truck driver's
scrambled egg whites and hash, hold the salt.
if this were wednesday, the perky brunette
would be disheveled, sobbing
into her on-again off-again's embroidered handkerchief
while your food waits, forgotten, in the window...
but it's thursday and they've made up
and his breath is only slightly tainted by his addictions.
instead, she flits a smirk at you
over the pages of the novel
you hope you're hiding well behind
and fills your cup to sloshing
free of charge.
when you add creamer,
it looks like the universe
opening to you.
The DoubterThe Doubter
One Day Someone Will Come To Doubt You.
He Will Insist!
You Gonna Hate Him For This,
If You Don't Love Him.
He Already Loves You,
He Just Doesn't Know It Yet.
He Will Know, When He Meets You.
For You I Don't Know More,
You Gonna Hate Him,
If You Don't Love Him.
lone wolf is wholesome
as his body is pressed,
pierced, and perforated.
rib cage curls like fingers
as crimson nail polish
paint the tips.
nailed to the wall like game,
sanguine saliva drips
from its snarling lips.
eyes shut tight
as its frame is contorted
like abstract art,
pen his heart in ink
or permanent marker.
knees skinned like a child
his body idle as the soul vibrates
while his inners regurgitate,
morbidity slivers down his legs
white fur stains read by death
as it plays necromancer.
the pack may not walk with you
but the moon hums with the owl orchestra.
your grey specks toying with ivory fur
kissed by red cartilage edges.
fade away as your puzzle
finally becomes wholesome
you feed raw meat to lions,
i feed raw me to liars-
the crowds line-in like
they’re ready to witness
me eat crow feet like i’m lyin’,
but these eyes are tired
of watching the vultures
masquerade as innocent crows
when the flock is called a murder.
and these crimes are unaccounted for
because we don’t realize what they’re killing
are the lion-hearted and eating the carcass,
leaving souls to float in the desert
while frames play bowls to a heartless dessert.
deserted bones tumbling like weeds
in the dead glass,
and lightning doesn’t strike
in the same place twice,
so don’t expect quartz here.
the law of living has no courts here
and karma is no judge
because there are no sentences
being placed on the objects
that subject you to the adjective of their
their words unnecessary,
excessive when the circle has begun.
wing disks spinning, dizzying,
dazzling, dying down
through dirt tolls
because we all have to pay
Writer's AuraWhat would you say if I told you that paper had an aura?
The interesting thing about it is that I’m telling half the truth.
Paper can only have an aura when it’s in someone’s hands
And being recited by the very person that wrote it.
The aura of the paper comes from the person, strengthening the sheet’s purpose.
Strengthening the person.
But how, you might ask?
How can a person give a flimsy object like paper an aura?
I have done so several times, so I shall tell you.
The people-those like me-that can do this are called Writers.
Every word-every letter-from a Writer’s hand that falls onto the paper…
It has its own life.
Losing one letter can make an entire story unravel.
Make a poem’s meaning drop.
Make a sheet of paper…meaningless.
And by extension, for that moment, the Writer’s life means nothing.
A small mistake, however, isn’t as large a mockery to us as a blank, white sheet of paper.
Both it and the Writer cry out, begging
A StoryLovely features rest
In a crystalized tomb
Adorned in roaming ivy
Locked in silver moonlight
Approaches handsome figure
With weary leather boots
Having rode his way there
Searching for treasures to loot
Coming to the crossroads
The two strangers meet
One forever locked in
Curse's dreamless sleep
Figure draws near
Pearlescent glass gleams
Stretching out his hand
He sees the beauty skin-deep
Instead of acting as a story
A fairytale kept in time
The figure walks away
Deciding corpses should be kept
Out of the sunlight
+my mother always told me
to make good choices
and although she tried to teach me
i never learned the difference
between good choices and easy ones
and i think that’s why i’m still here,
because most days it’s harder to think about
what my mother would say at my funeral
than it is to keep breathing
obsessionand i know i shouldn't
but when the smoke hits my lungs
and the goosebumps
drape over my skin
because the taste
of this blood
and the touch
of these fingers
feel just as soft.
revengeNot once not twice
Have I heard you say
I love you so much, don't ever go away
You're fluent in lies
But it's okay
As am I
There are secrets I hide
The blood on the counter- well that isn't mine
That gold gleaming dagger soon to be in your spine
This feeling of spite it's impossible to hide
I love you
I hate you
No one else should have this pleasure
This immaculate revenge
Well let's just pretend
I'm practical and perfect most distinguished as they come
Not bleak and meek
Those petty women have nothing on me
For revenge is what I seek
You left me to die
Alone in the street
They told you
SHES GOT THE PLAGUE she has is, she does
Save me from that brothel
Poison my ears
Every word a drop of honey so sickly sweet
Married me, you did
But when you learned that lie
My past lover had told you
You looked me in the eye
YOU WHORE look what've you done! You planned to infect me but ha! You thought I loved you I barely did
Those words those word
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More