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Dead Dreams IIAn emptiness that eats
Nothing is left for the fruitfulness of our bonds
Together we hold still
But apart we break into shattered pieces of our pasts.
Why is an onslaught of misdemeanored causes.
No one's will is enough to wretch us free
Forsaken and tainted we stand
Our fingers interlocked in a dance of subtlety
Dead Dreams ITick tick tick goes the bomb
Dead dead dead goes its inhabitants.
Bye to our lives
Hello to our ends
Wishful thoughts mean more than air
But our breaths cannot grasp our needs
Forever fallen here we land in our falls.
Death of My RitualPray, just pray a day once more
The faith of our father's will keep us dear.
A silence of love shall dream anew
As the pilgrimage of children laugh till dawn.
The words are meaningless if the letter is old
For the need of the ancients have come to pass.
Come of AgeThe dance of the abdominals ends in tragedy
As leaves of the foliage come to pass.
Come the end of constellations undone
And still see you not.
The mentions of entries are here to stay.
If only our hearts could be swayed that way.
Feet of fallen create the pyre
As the ashes of tears hold those truths.
My Weak TruthI can't save you
All of you out there
Can't become the chosen
Not even if I cared.
My faults may bury me
My fears bring on my death
And my heart threatens to pause
In a swift suicide
As my mind wraps itself in a twist.
The paper in my pocket
Stalling the truth that shall come.
The sleepless come welcomed
And the dawning forgotten
for shadows are remembered
And the light turned off.
I can't bring myself to care anymore
It keeps tearing me apart.
Lost SelfHere comes my memory
I lost it long ago
Locked within the raindrops
bleeding from the sky.
Broken came the pieces
dropped without regret
Screaming for the recognition
of the greedy blind.
Falling toward the center
shaping what can be
only to ignore it all
As the freedom fails to ring
inside my lifeless heart.
I Tell You NotPlace me in a corner
and leave me here to die
My suicidal trivia
has succumbed into my mind.
Unlike your washy process
I always get it right
Following through this nightmare
of justice served real cold
a wonderland of echoes
of a land forever grand
with an outdated legend
Bringing forth the lies.
cuz if I were to tell you
the truth of which I know
Then I'd have to kill you
So they can still ignore me
Upon this empty corner
of which I make my home.
Letter To Myself As YouHi…How Are You?
I'm…well I don't exist.
So I guess that means
I can't really say I'm fine.
It I did, I'm sure I would be.
Fine that is. Then again
Considering that I don't exist
Yet I'm here "talking" to you
Means I'm a figment of your
Imagination. That is…well that
Means…that you are indeed
Insane. I'm sorry, it must
Be hard for you to understand.
I'm sure if you check your pocket
You'll find that slip of paper I gave
You. You know which one.
The one to remind you that you are sane
While you're insane. Check I assure you
It's there. I lie not. You found it
Didn't you. Heh I knew you would.
After all your mind is gone. How
Else would I be able to place
That scrap of paper in your pocket?
I'm bored now. I find your lack of
A clear mind bothersome. Your denial
Suffocates me. After all you fell
Into society's open arms. What did
You expect to have happen to you?
To go there is to say farewell
to yourself. The you in your mind.
The one you who holds the door
And knows when to sc
Slumbering DoorwaysI do not think I shall find sleep tonight
It does not call upon my door this night
Not a single knock or turn of the knob
Of this sleep, I was surely robbed.
Begainst the malice of this deed
Just a single night's sleep is what I need
Yet mocked I am again this night
To forfeit my sleep untingled without fright.
My eyelids unweighed, too shallow to sink
For they continue to gaze unable to blink
Forever in my slumber shall be forgotten
As I lay in my bed unsettled & darkened
Listening to the whispers that call in my wake
I settle in this darkness of which I forsake
My lust for this dream of which cannot be
The day that the door comes knocking for me.
When Stars CollapseThis is how you bespeckled my bones
with bewilderment: you kissed hushed heart
whispers and slumbering secrets
into my fingertips. You infused awe
into my joints, causing me
to ask how snowflakes got their
shape and how long would it take
to get from the Sun to Capella.
You taught me that energy is neither
created or destroyed; stars do not die.
Eyes washed with emerald sorrows you
told me that they evolve, they change
into something entirely different,
or not so different.
I now know we are made of the same
particles as someone or something else.
We began someplace together.
We're made of so much more than "star-stuff",
we are made of each other.
In a world with no mercy
Day after day
Until the end
The day I die
And then maybe
I'll find some peace
The Breaths Between Usi'm minutes away
from the collision site
the breaths between us
and the lost time
clock guts, sprung
our hallway uncoils
his walnut lean
i'm seconds away
from the before
of our near-miss
the beads of air
and the imperfections of
in a rumored heart
a stuttering mass
this broken belled
has lost hold
of the lives we live
its skullsong rings
the same vibration
I am me. Who are you?I am fragments
of every person
I've met; every
memory made; every
bond formed and tie broken.
I am an orchestra
of people's opinions;
each snide comment
each casual remark
each passing compliment
I am a library
of forgotten lies
and fake smiles
and empty promises.
I am a sky of hope;
filled with stars
which carry the wishes
of the people I have encountered
I am never alone
for their influence will forever
taint my soul and
remind me of their hopes,
dreams and pain.
This is who I am.
Who are you?
Blooming Through CrevicesBlooming Through Crevices
People are characters;
their personalities are not to be cracked,
but to bloom.
Codes and signals
Setting our sights
On how to see
Through the cipher.
Optics opting for options
As opposed to conscious.
Ardor replaced by harder
To break through exteriors.
But mortality is only one facet
Of the entirety of humanity.
It is a compass of one being,
But merely a piece of the puzzle
That makes up human composition.
let us not break through empathy
with deductive methodology
but rather with the rhythm
of a honeybee whistling along the hymn
of the wind whispering in the leaves.
humanistic, holistic ideologies
is what the standard can be.
it is the notion of being a metaphor
rather than being something to decipher.
because there are more stars and galaxies
in poetry than there will ever be algebraic
expression curls up with ambiance
under the window pain of a picture frame
because we write more about
storiesi begin and end with stories
where hummingbird hearts play sonatas
against my ribs and i drown in
early morning light and
the girl in me sinks into the sea
like rusting anchors chained to
ships and i sway port and starboard
the lion in me rises like lazarus
from the savannah where dust swirls
and i begin and end with stories
where i swallow the world and all
the rain and girls and lions in it
where i hold it up like atlas,
where i support jupiter with just
an index finger and where i chase
comets and cup them like fireflies
to hang on my bedroom walls
on remembering to breathe:i.
you can't hold it in for forever.
your lungs weren't
made to bear the weight
of this world, they weren't made
to left unexpanded
and unexplained -
it is not phenomenon that wakes you
when paralysis hits in the
night, it is physiology telling you that
not everything happens on automatic, okay?
(at least not for always)
you're born like a time bomb, with
only so many beats of
your heart in place to tick away day by day -
your words, they're the same.
there's a time limit
on your tongue, so say something that
means something - use words
that dig in and rip out hearts, use words that
curl around your fingers and worm their
way into your soul.
use words to make something
beautiful. something remembered.
never leave three things
left unsaid because they can be three
words that mean everything -
i'm not telling you to save your breath.
i'm begging you not to waste it.
sing. sing enough to take your breath
away because even though
it leaves you gasping, it fills up that
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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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