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RealityI refuse to write one more word
I refuse to open one more
That's why we have bandages; so
we don't have to look.
We can just trust
it gets better
and turn away.
Slow-drag with sorrow
I refuse to participate
in that old dance with death
the three-step guilt waltz.
The white flag of surrender
lights nightly in my dreams
the tattered, torn paper
that blazes like the moon
when I look in the mirror, still burning
grinning like my own skeleton
Blue glasses askew, one frame
bent out of place. Messy hair,
always running, a constant
lisping stutter. He had one real girlfriend; she dumped him
by text. "I never loved you. It was all
a dare." Red jumpers
with black shoes. His dad
beat him nightly. One night
he placed the note on his desk
(the note he'd had since sixth grade, just in case)
walked like a zombie up to the yawning mouth
and went back to bed
I refuse to write one more word
about suicide. If I
never wrote it, it
and again she can't sleep. It's the sadness,
she thinks, the memories like bad pennies
that keep turning up, burying her
under all of the debts she will never repay.
At times she tastes tears, alone in the darkness,
when the world refracts blearily
and the last of the light warps and
slips away. Sometimes, in these times,
she laughs like spent soda cans,
hollow and grating, waiting for recollection
to crush her and bend her and tear her inside.
Sometimes, in these times, she screams frightening things
all of the words that she never did say.
Stop no, please get off, please just
go away. The letters, the syllables,
they echo inside of her
like bullets (she wishes he's spared one
on her) But mostly it's just sadness,
the hollow inside,
and in the silver moonlight she takes off her shirt
looks at her bare chest in the mirror,
scribbles script with her fingers
here there be monsters
and here they will prey.
THAT POEM (Writer's Block)I sat down at my computer last Thursday night
with the full intention of writing THAT POEM. Oh, don't
play dumb. You know what THAT POEM is. We all know
what THAT POEM is. You with the cigarette train-tracks
charting your eternal drift to nowhere
on the insides of your arms, you
with the sludge of alcohol dripping thick & brown through
veins swollen & slow & pussy as zombies, you
with the eight children whose faces you can't remember
& the husband in the Hamptons whose name you sometimes forget
& the lover who never seems to come around as much as you pay him to you
all know what THAT POEM
is. It's the rhythm beating a dull staccato in your skull
when you've taken something to take the edge off, the weary shadows sinking senseless
into the black-slung cradles hiding underneath your
bloodshot eyes. It's the weight of the gun & the way its metal feels
when you push it against the squelching skin of your skull not to kill yourself, just to feel it,
to know you could. This wa
MEi. I fell in love with a girl who catalogued darkness,
sat in her room with the blinds closed and wrote down
187 ways it felt
in all of the different times she couldn't see.
My name was one of them,
#143, ash velvet, and I didn't know what she meant at the time
but the only description she wrote beneath it
was good night for stuffed animals
bad night for worn pillows.
And I'm sorry I made you dream of the rivers.
ii. I fell in love with a girl who never looked in the mirror
but dressed to perfection, somehow
in her blue skirt and black socks
white tennis shoes
and a smile crooked as the bottom side of Indiana
yeah, I fell in love with a girl
who could never quite get it straight but hey,
I've never been 100% straight either,
and the one corkscrew curl you have
opens me up like fine wine
each time I see you smile in that cracked bathroom mirror.
Makes me half-drunk,
iii. I fell in love with a girl who was depressed by Paris,
but loved Italy beca
what if this was the song of myself?1. god laced your eyes with opium
stitched them shut with cotton fog. wake, love cough
like a gunshot, breathe
like the blood eagle
has been carved into you. time didn't mean
to blind the moon's great eye, to
collapse it into the static horizon.
my lips can no longer pronounce the word mercy. wake,
2. the days crack like porcelain dolls
under my father's boots. there are skulls
hidden in the cabinets, & shadows too, hung in the closet
like thin-pressed coats.
3. razor, rohypnol, rope. bathroom,
basement. if i touch all three
before i leave
i won't pick one up when i
4. there is newsprint
my skin; the serif fonts
lock & jumble
like nephilim stretching
like barbed wire babies
crawling through my veins. this is
the same disease
you died of. without you here,
5. razor, rohypnol, rope.
razor, rohypnol, rope.
your picture smiles,
showing skin. that summer
we were always young.
to a womanYou see it coming from the men.
You see the ways their eyes linger on you
When they're looking around the room
The way their bodies brush yours when you're walking through the hallways to class
The way they stutter and look away when apologizing for the accidental contact of skin to skin
You see it coming from the men.
You never see it coming from me.
God, was the world not complicated enough already
Without causing me to notice the interplay of textures in her hands
The calluses like mahogany mountains carving ridges of stone
Into her palms softer than Impressionistic sunlight?
I'm not supposed to feel this way about another woman. I'm not supposed to sit here
With a star around my neck and daydream about the way her tongue could taste like cinnamon,
Like my grandmother's home, like gingerbread cookies and the dawn of Christmas morning
These words are blasphemy, so I call upon God to give me a reason for my emotions.
Wasn't the world fucked up enough already without this?
Cut the coff
I Like the Color Green"Hey, Quinn."
The phone cord is stretchy and new. I stick my ring finger through the curls and tug a little. "I missed you. Haven't seen you since the show."
"I said, who is this?"
"You know, Quinnie. I missed you."
"Stop calling me. I told you to stop calling me."
"I'm lonely. "
"It's three in the morning!"
No phone cord around my finger. I stare and laugh a little, remembering that there isn't any phone cord because I use a cell phone. That's more modern. Yes, that would make more sense. No cord, then. I take to staring at the pretty green wall.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, that wasn't at you, Quinnie. Lovely Quinnie."
"This is a waste of time."
I smile and walk around the pretty, empty, green room. There isn't anything but me in it now but that's because I'm moving. Everything is clean for the house's next inhabitants. It's nice to have things clean. My new house will be clean.
"So do you have anything to say or are you just fucking
It's kinda pathetic, but...I miss you, y'know... Soon as you're gone,
It hurts to want to hug you and there be no one.
I miss you as soon as I stop talking to you,
I miss you even when we talk, unless I'm hugging you.
I know it's pathetic, I really do...
But I guess it's just because I love you.
Sometimes I'm scared there'll be no one there
But then I wake up, and thank God it's a nightmare.
Jennifer, I want you to believe that I love you
And I want to hear that you love me too.
Jennifer, I love you and I love you true.
And I'm not ashamed to say that I need you.
a.m.She'd heard that after an attempt some people see the world differently
The chemicals or wiring changes and they see the everything differently.
But she felt the same.
She couldn't even do this right.
I never cried."How're you?" someone asks me. I reply. "I think I died inside."
I wave away their sympathy, soon I'll be dead on the outside.
Her beauty ensnared me, entrapped my soul.
Her words tricked me, she played me and it took it's toll.
I had to tell her she was gorgeous today, and tell her I loved her.
It was her friend teasing me, but I still had to tell her.
I had to force myself to keep sincerity out of my voice.
I'm having to force myself not to question that choice.
I know she hates me, with all her soul.
When she phones, I ignore her call.
She asks whether I'm okay, saying we were once friends.
I tell her I'm not and why, but leave out that my heart never mends.
I cried when she dumped me, first time in years.
It didn't even matter to her, she's like clockwork, no heart, just gears.
She complained when people tried to make her feel bad.
But I think it's just because she got mad, not sad.
So now I tell the world, I am dead inside.
I had to talk to her, she killed me inside.
I ask you guy
It broke my heart.It broke my heart to hear you cry.
Even though I knew I couldn't stop the why.
Death is unstoppable, even to me.
And even though I know how sad you must be.
Honey, you know I love you, so so much.
And I am sorry I can't give you my comforting touch.
But as I try to help, from another country.
I hope you will know one thing. "He loves me."
Jennifer, I would have you know.
Just how much it hurt, how low you made my heart go.
And if I could, I would change the past.
But as I can't, I give you a future, I promise you my love will always last.
The GateHe stands at the gate,
his smile proud and reassuring,
as he watches his baby girl
on her first day at kindergarten.
She turns around
her tiny pink lips wobbling
and her searching eyes filling up with tears,
until she finds him,
sees his reassuring face,
and then she smiles; a brave little soldier's smile
25 years later
he finds himself standing at another gate,
an airport railing,
as he watches his child
and her child
walk into their new future.
She turns around
and this time
it's his eyes that well up in tears,
his breath that hitched slightly,
and her smile
that washes over him in reassurance
Since You Took Your Love AwayHolding you so gently
I wouldn't have believed
And after all we've been through
Why did you have to leave?
What happened to forever?
Is nothing made to last
My whole world is broken
And I'm fading fast
...I'm fading fast
I need someone to save me
You won't know 'til you've been in love
I need to find a way back
But I don't know if I'm strong enough
I'm trying to forgive you
But it's so hard to say
And after all we've been through
It's hard to find a way
I'm trying not to hate you
For pushing me aside
Now my heart is broken
And it's hard to hide
...It's so hard to hide
I need someone to save me
You don't know 'til you've been in love
It's hard to find a way back
And I don't know if I'm strong enough
And though I'm running for yesterday
I guess there's really nothing left to say
'Cos now it's just a memory
Since you took your love away
Since you took your love away...
The SecretShe's standing on her toes,
her arms are around his neck.
She's playing with his hair
talking a "mile a minute".
He's listening to her,
his head tipped towards her
and there's a soft,
indulgent smile playing around his lips.
His arms are around her waist
holding her close to his heart.
And then they tighten around her,
lifting her on to his toes.
His mind is still in their conversation
he doesn't even realize the shift in position
It's only his heart,
That he'd lifted her so she wouldn't have to reach for him,
So she could be more comfortable in the home of his arms
StayIt's funny how emotions move
How we're ruined by things we cannot prove.
Your image is burned inside my head
Along with all the lovely, broken words that you said.
How can this be wrong when it feels so good?
I know you won't stay but I wish you would.
Oh, I wish you would, I wish you would.
I don't think I can live without your face,
So I'll suffocate in this forsaken place.
I'll give you my heart for you to heal
As you refuse and reject what you feel.
How can you hate this when it feels so good?
I know you won't stay but I wish you would.
Oh, I wish you could, I wish you would.
You're scared because there is no cure
And you've never known something that feels so pure.
But running and hiding won't take it away
Oh, god, oh god, I wish you'd stay.
How can this be gone when it felt so good?
I wish you hadn't left, but I knew you would
Oh, I knew you would, I knew you would.
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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
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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