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Admission of RegressionIf I spliced my syllables together
and only scripted childish sentences
onto stacks of thickly lined paper,
would it stress my lack of progress?
I've been wishing for a word-storm
but writing novice-grade nothings
that could never become novels.
I tried to return to my roots
but was left with only nonsense,
and these whittled-down words showcase
exactly how heavily I've regressed.
JumpEight buttons run down my chest,
are they shutting me in?
They're blocking you out.
You tell me you love me,
and the corners of your lips
dare to rise into a smirk
that reminds me of summer nights since past,
when eight buttons came undone
and your sweet-whispered syllables
shadowed hush-hush kisses along my arms,
but when midnight melted into morning
all that had lingered was lies against my skin.
But your hands still think
that they control my mine,
that lead to wrists who are cut-free,
but bitten-bruised, clenching into my thighs
leaving crescent-mooned creases behind them
like the ghosts of your windswept script
once scribbled in red ink onto paper, written to me,
and I still remember every word
You used to tell me you wanted to go cliff diving:
to feel the tips of your toes pressed
up against nothing but air,
you wanted to feel
to have the world
in the palms of your hands
just so you could drop it.
Instead, you settled for the palm of my hand
I Destroyed A DiamondI've seen what's left behind when you leave
when your split your bit lips and call it quits,
decide someone isn't worth the drama anymore,
and I'm terrified I'll trip over the boundary.
You'll become so sick
of seeing me break myself,
that you'll break me for me.
Backing away isn't an option
when I can't imagine burning us -
letting us catch ablaze and blister
until our skin is so scorched
I can shed mine until I'm only skeleton,
leaving not one bit of the flesh
you've come to call family behind.
When will you set me down?
My nightmares are blowing past barriers,
becoming bone-breaking bits of reality,
clinging to conversations and corrupting teeth
that begin biting me, teasing me, teething on me.
I don't want to dare think you'd drop me,
but I've been clutching to the same cluttered,
plastered on disguise for years
and it's whittled away,
translucent in places and spiderwebbed,
letting all of my words whisper through
and God, I can see that they're hurting you.
With Sewn Seams, I Seem AlrightI want to claw my clavicles until they're split
as if I took a blade to my shoulder,
and I'm tempted to twist the tendons in my arms
until the tension trains them to strengthen.
I want to shrink inside of myself
until there isn't a thing left to see.
I want this thing out of me.
Believe Me, I'm Better NowIf I began pushing
unmeasured morsels past my lips
and made no move to rid myself of them
would you suspect that I spent my nights on the bike?
Sometimes I wonder exactly how well you know me
and how far your expectations of me extend.
What if I tore my skin open but taped my lips shut,
biting back my words but bleeding out lies
and creating scars behind clothing lines?
If I keep quiet am I killing trust?
(Am I killing us?)
Clinging to CatastropheI thought I wouldn't be trailing thoughts from my teeth
and dripping fuck-ups from my fingers anymore
but I can feel them pooling at my feet
and you're watching them drown me.
Though I can't quite imagine
these weak calves could hold the catcher's crouch
long enough to be sure nothing leaked through,
that's the catch: I want to blind you.
I want to wipe away your world of color
and leave behind a fine layer of white
or perhaps a black so heavy
that every other hue would dissolve inside of it
so that the crimson crossing and creasing my skin
would stay unseen, swept between a pitch and pastel
and the smiles would stay framing your cheeks
I am selfish.
I've bitten the bullet of fucking up again,
and with a blade biting my own skin,
I've bled words even deeper than before,
so it is my responsibility to be sure
you won't be subject to seeing the scars.
By now I should be skilled
at sweeping my secrets away,
It Burrows Into Your Bonesthree.
you have to wonder
exactly how long everything will last.
i've been wanting to strike a match
and touch it to the tip of a candle's wick,
then count the seconds until it is quelled.
it is four forty-one in the morning
and i am fighting off the urge
to score my frustrations and fears
onto my skin as if i am a piece of pottery.
this is what i imagine it would feel like
the second before squeezing the trigger
a strange calm that slithers around your scapula
and settles in the curve of your collarbone
with such an easy euphoria you don't notice
when it begins to constrict.
Some Nights Are Better ForgottenLet me slam into the linoleum
allow the tiled wall to leave lines behind
that will blossom into bruises on my skin.
I want to feel your five-fingered strikes
caress my cheekbones like the sick love story
of disaster and self-destruction I've created
by downing one too many drinks.
It's a relief to be marred
with a mark made by a hand
other than my own.
I don't think I ever admitted to you
how your handprint hovered on my skin
in sickening harlequin and hunter greens
I imagined it appropriate to mask it with my make-up
and use foundation to build my smiles in the morning.
It's Getting That Bad AgainI've almost run out of eloquence
and no amount of strung-together emotions
can come close to describing a thing.
I am broken with broke-skin legs
hiding beneath bare-thread quilts
so that if I'm bothered,
I can smile and small talk it all away.
But that isn't good enough.
No, in that I see publication possibilities
and praise that I know perfectly well
I couldn't possibly deserve.
It sounds like sentences stamped onto paper
in bold black ink and set on my English teacher's desk,
with my name precisely penned in the corner -
but I feel much more like the wastebasket
that was always sitting beneath the tabletop
filled with everything no one else wanted to touch.
There's a problem there, too.
I'm covering everything behind metaphors
of desks and worthless wastebaskets,
full-well aware it's too easy to lose my meaning
between the letters of my language,
but I can't let it go.
Every time I open my mouth to speak truth
I spill nothing but shushed-up apologies
and bits of the big pictu
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
You're beautifulPlease eat.
Are you listening to me?
If you are,
I want to tell you.
You re beautiful.
It doesn't matter what you weigh,
you shouldn't feel guilty about what you ate.
It doesn't matter,
I promise you things will get better.
Listen to my words,
Hold my hand.
Don't worry about the rest of the world,
It's okay if they don't understand,
How it feels like,
To feel fat,
To feel ugly,
To feel worthless.
You are none of those things.
It s okay to be chubby,
It s okay to be skinny.
Because you have a big heart.
And your smile,
Is like a priceless work of art.
And I don't want to see you destroy,
Because you're more than just a broken toy.
And to everyone else,
So for once let yourself be,
Accept your reflection.
Because you are the definition of perfection.
So don't worry,
Don't be sorry,
To be who you are.
Because you re,
Those Green Eyes (Or: Don't Lie to Your Kid)Those green eyes -
The green of joy
The green of hope
The green of love and acceptance -
Were always full of lies.
They first lied when I said,
After a nightmare at four am
When I was too small to reach a light switch,
“Will you ever leave me?”
And those eyes said,
Why did those green eyes
Shut when I needed them most?
"Are you okay?"
Would be a red line
That I would etch into myself
Those green eyes melted.
Those green eyes did shine
And I knew what it was -
I was young, not stupid -
But I indulged the lie,
For those green eyes.
"Will it get better?"
I asked one sunny Saturday
At ten in the morning
And those green eyes looked away;
“And you’ll be here forever?”
There were no words.
I made up my own affirmative.
Those green eyes -
When they saw
How I’d rubbed myself raw
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
What is Hope?Hope is something we have as children,
It helps us thrive and try our hardest.
Hope is what we express in the worst of times
When all hope seems lost.
Hope is what people possess in life
To work toward our dreams.
Hope is a lie
That's not worth our time.
I Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger TogetherI Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger Together
if i’m being completely honest,
i can’t say i know what you’re goin’ through.
and if i’m being frank,
i’m sort of afraid to write this
because i’ve always been unsure
if i love too much but it’s my nature
and i’d rather lose by trying too hard
than to do so without doing enough.
i hope you’re asleep now
and i hope you don’t read this
till the morning and i hope by then
things will be a little lighter
but i’m hoping against hope
because if you don’t know,
i feel when things are off.
call it intuition, call it a feelin’,
say i just know it.
my friend, my door is always open
even when you’re feeling closed
off to the world and right there,
i can understand that feeling well,
because i still feel we relate to one another
better than most brothers understand their sisters.
know i look at you as a sibling
and i believe we know when the other
AnxietyAnxiety tapping on my door,
"Can I come inside your head?"
I shiver, not ready for its visit.
It charges in, smelling of worry.
Spends a morning, afternoon and night,
playing with my emotions.
A marionette dancing its old tune on rough strings.
Leaves me winded and praying to beat it the next time.
AltruismIt kills me inside
To see others suffering
I want to help
I try to help
But my efforts feel weak
I know I'm doing the best I can
With what I have
But I feel like
It's just not enough
But I keep trying
So I don't lose anymore friends
an ear to lean oni want to edit my sentences
before i even utter them
but you tell me to speak in ink
like i'm a pen and you're the paper,
promising its lines won't judge.
and i don't doubt that,
but spilling my secrets
is like splitting open a sand bag
and it's impossible to accept
that it's okay to overflow ,
and that you'll fight for me.
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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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