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XI. i think the word is 'disassociation', actuallythere is some kind of
and i think i might be dying
or worse, losing sight
of memory and feeling
my arms are aching
with the weight of existing
i am not myself, i am
VIII. it took a long time to get there, tooi was halfway to the edge of the universe
bent on destroying the idea of nothing,
when i remembered i forgot my soul
deep in the flower beds at home,
so i gasped; miniscule fragments
of stars got stuck
in the dips of my teeth and on my tongue
and the universe filled the gap of my soul.
and i think i might have discovered a god there,
sitting on the precipice into nothing
and laughing at the prospect of mortality.
we all join them in the end,
but even a god cannot exist
without existence to be had.
VII. it's like we were made for each otherstrange, how each gap between your ribs
is the perfect width for my index finger,
and how each breath you take expands
your breasts perfectly into my hands.
wonderful, how when we kiss,
it feels like the whole universe
has condensed into that one perfect moment
of just you, and me.
perfect, how each touch i give
returns me smiles and kisses,
and how soft your hips are under my palms.
VI. didnt you get with the times?!when we kiss, i feel at peace,
and when you plait my hair
and put tiny little flowers
among the twists, i feel whole.
people like to say im strange,
or that my life must be hard;
but i love you right around the world
and i dont think that's unnatural
I. i looked out the window and saw so many flowersspring tastes fresh on my lips,
rain alighting on the grass
with a refreshing caress, and
the sweet calls of the swallows are near.
sitting under the old oak, hiding
from the cool sun's gaze
that is too cold for sleeveless shirts
but too warm for your girlfriend's sweater.
you think you see life
blooming under your palms
as you rest them on the dirt
and when you breathe,
you feel like there are tiny flowers
growing from your throat.
II. trigger warningi see;
the white crescents at the tops of my nails
extend down my whole fingers
as i dig as hard as i can into the wall
things blurring and difficulty breathing
and im clutching as hard as i can
but i dont feel anything
people staring and judging at laughing
at the poor pathetic thing that cannot
hold their composure because of one little thing?!
i dont see
because my vision has left me along with my breath
abandoning me in a wash of cold sweat
and a feeling like death-
The tough gets growingI'm knee-deep in mud,
grumbling and mumbling
about what I did
to deserve this mess
And my mother glares,
"When I planted you,
I put you deep in the dirt,
not to bury you alive,
but to teach you that
when the growing gets tough,
the tough gets growing."
pick up the slack and
pick up that slack-jawed shadow of yours
dragging on wet pavement under your soles
and hurry it along, we ain't got all day here
flex your white-boned fingers and
taut knuckles and pluck the soul from
its coffin in your slick throat
the sun has better places to be than in your sky.
Falling Back into Placei wait for wisdom
the sludge tells me
to come in
awaits, just beneath the tack
of its sticky skin
and i know
that what waits there
is more patient
eternal and hungry
but the peace
is only a skin
grow upyou say
i am weak
i have never
worked for anything
i am not sorry
i should take
the pills the doctor
i will never
know what it is to
hurt the way that you hurt,
plant me in the ground
listen to the way my nature sounds
when i turn from something black
to something luminous, proud
you turned me into a shadow, you prick
remember that? remember this?
yeah, the condom broke, you
piece of shit, at least i tried
to be careful, at least when
you cried, i kissed your
say what you want
about my judgment.
my immaturity, my general
lack of readiness for
anything. but i was good
to you, and i tried,
and i am sorry that
you hurt so much
that you can't
do it as elegantly
as i can.
you have never
learned to love
the grit: the place
where my spirit sags,
where my love
as if biology could have been any clearer,
cleaning your spit from my bedroom mirror-
i can smell your genes and
they smell fucking good to me,
but i keep telling myself,
Our destiny is determined
Reliving the past
Enduring the suffering
Visions of the future
Endeavours to come
Representing life as a whole
9 Countenances for the Curious1.
My limbs have become instruments,
but, unlike the piano of your memories,
I am still not anyone's to play.
I think I am finite,
that the limits of me are dictated
by flesh and numbers
on an inverted scale
but the dog on my lap
doesn't care what I weigh;
she wants only
to love me and be loved.
the pain that anchors you
strains your back,
the ship of your life
is hamstrung upon a reef
and you think you are watching
a dolphin at play
but siren songs deceive you.
my ship sank beneath the waters
years ago, this bubble of life
sustains me even as i drown:
there are storms in the depths
of me, and you see only
the ocean's calm.
At 7, I swallowed stories
like candy; didn't understand
that too much leaves you bloated.
At 17, I breakfasted on books
like pancakes; too caught up
to tell (some things should be special).
At 27, I feasted on fiction
like home-cooked meals; didn't know
some of it could poison you.
At 37, I hope I will be picking
at poetry; letting the flavours
of the words
the gardenersMy father is a good man.
His hands, dry and
callused, carry a case
of Corona Lite
to the gardeners in
Big-brimmed hats cast
shadows down their faces,
and a pile of thick,
gray gloves lies
on the glass table.
The beer looks like liquid
gold in those clear bottles,
and condensation clings
to the glass like the sweat
beading at their brows.
My father and the gardeners
drink, laughing like they’ve
known one another for years.
There is nothing
that brings men together
better than beer
on a hot day.
The Washed MindI have let the difficulties flood my body
From head, the worries slip to my heart
like children falling through the cracks
of some broken floor
under which is nothing besides me
My mind is melting from the inside
Swarmed by maggots and the meaningless questions:
Would my mind work better
without all these walls
stopping it from evolving?
Where did these obscene problems come from?
Surely my mind was born free
Surely my opinions exist somewhere...
Or is freedom nothing but a joke
to the true me?
So, I ate nails and needles to clear my mind
The bleeding and the pain
were both evil and refreshing
I have learned the lesson
fairy tales are the shadows on my eyes
Now my mind is clear as melting glass
running down my cold spine
washing away the sins,
violent thoughts and sorrowful memories
from the edge of my past
gunfire echoes.it permeates the very land we stand on.
the rat-at-tat-tat of machine guns
the slick click and tick
of the lock in time with the clock
tick tock bang.
how to justify war?
why take lives for lives for lives for lives for lives
'such a waste' to see
men lying gutted in the fields drowning in blood and bile
missing eyes arms ears legs tongues
bodies used for camouflage
rancid corpses become a safe new skin
gas froths the mouth rolls the eyes corrupts the lungs
blue blooded generals cheer a
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More