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BreatheHis throat constricting.
His heart beating faster by the second.
Licking at his wounds,
He can taste the bitterness of panic.
The life he choose for himself,
Isn't how he imagined.
Everythings lost, or at least out of reach.
HIS love can't touch, burns when its tries.
A shell of the man that he dreamed of being.
Is what is left in it's wake.
Am I Lonely?All the bodies, all the hands
They try to grab what they can
Touch as much as their sticky fingers can reach
They always seem to miss my heart
You don’t notice,
When I start to wane from the high
When I really need someone
At least thats what I tell myself
If you knew and didn’t care, I don’t know if I could take that
My head slumps against your neck
My face is pink, skin sticky with sweat
And hot just like the crook of your neck
Our clothes are like a second skin
I huff against you, trying to catch my breath
You shiver as goosebumps race across your skin
I feel as though my skins burning
But my chest hurts
I want you to touch me
My hand drifts to your chest
And i cuddle as close to you as i can
You cover my hand, squeeze my fingers
Its strange when you don’t let go
Almost foreign feeling, your hands
“Did you want to leave?” I ask
You shake your head and let go of my hand
I shut my eyes so as to not see your empty ones.
InfatuationI don't know you.
I don't know your name.
But i see you,
I can feel your presence across the room.
My eyes can never stay far,
always darting back whenever possible.
And i can feel whenever you look back,
my eyes darting away when they meet.
I'm always waiting for a smile too,
or a laugh I'm too far away to hear.
And when its over, its far too soon.
The room starts to pack up to leave,
classroom chatter muted as i listen for your silent departure.
With my head down, I watch you from the corner of my eye.
The air lightly brushes past me when you walk by.
I'm alone now,
and i wish you stayed.
Untitledi don't know when it happened
that all these books,
tattered and torn,
have turned into you
my emotions are mirrored back at me
the words cold and taunting
im tired of filling these pages
the covered slide kingHe stood slouched, faking nonchalance
Craving a taste of something chemical
Black jeans clinging to bone legs
Empty-handed he settles, sucking on a cigarette
The wind is nipping, turning his knuckles pink
Burrowing inside a tight black jacket
The cars and pedestrians race by
His only shelter in the form of an empty playground
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once again
I let my memories guide my lost steps,
Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.
As I walk along the quay,
I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:
She's dying by the street lamps' hands
While the whole city asphyxiates.
Reflecting my own lack of humanity
Over the river's lighted surface,
Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.
Once again, on this breathtaking night,
My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.
Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave
My musical drug, my remaining salvation,
Spreading a sweet poison within me and
Eroding the remaining happiness I still have.
I plug my headphones...
A grin of relief appears on my weary face,
I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.
These notes of violin split the immutable silence,
Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.
This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
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 breath 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
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
california wintersthe tears
I rationed have all
run out. Tuesday comes
up behind me and steals
my breath; my cat snores.
she can’t sleep soundly
since she lost her seventh
life. I’m like that, I’m always
worried someone will try to steal
what I’ve already given away.
I miss color. newsprint sobs
washed me out. I am a
blank canvas, I am a faceless,
I am one
of you. I wake up sweating
and it’s winter and I can’t
sleep because my memories
follow me between my sheets;
jake still won’t listen.
we never knew we were the
lucky ones, we scarred, too. don’t
touch me. don’t want
me, don’t bare my bones
when you think I’m not
watching. I’m afraid of
myself. breathing loud
enough that others know
I exist; you follow me,
needing, laughing, it’s
a game. who has lost
the most, we all want
to win; I’m so tired, so scared,
there’s no one in the world
who sees me. I can’t cry.
we’re in a drought.
Hold the HeartI.
Your heart is like the old wall,
at the end of the street,
filled with random scribbles,
of names and dates.
Though yours smells of wine and scented candles,
cluttered with faulty promises rather than garbage.
I watched you toss it so many times,
like a useless rag ball, but this time hurt didn't it?
She couldn't bear to see her name,
topping the list of a million others,
nor the lipstick print you forgot to wipe,
mixed with the scent of another's perfume.
She added a new smudge to your wall,
a line of black carefully drawn
across the memories and faces,
and firmly stated:
"No more littering allowed at all".
Then she took a hammer and ripped a hole,
wincing in disgust at the decaying flesh hiding below.
Hold your heart in your hands,
the patches can no longer sustain,
there are too many pieces now,
I think you're even harming it more,
with every sting of the needle,
while you desperately try to sew it whole.
Paint my pain with bloodAs i look through these glass eyes
I see nothing
I'm blinded by my own...
This burning in my eyes
I can't stop it
I want to throw it all up
but I'm so afraid
of what will happen when it's gone and I'm empty
the acid will eat out my eyes
and make me bleed out of
The black of my hair is seeping
into my skin too
mixing with the
turning me an ugly, ugly color
I want to stop it,
but everything i say
feels so repetitive
useless and unnecessary
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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