|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
whatever you do don't stop breaking my hearti'm not ready to give in but
i can feel you breathing regret
& resignation. i can feel you
breathing underwater in
between our bodies. i can feel
you feeling less & less &
it feels more real
than drowning & it's worse
& it keeps getting worse
like knowing you
will die a slightly
different death every day.
last season's mix tapesin every story, there is a plot.
this is called “what happens.”
what happens is usually someone dies and someone rebuilds, someone buys a wedding ring and maybe she says yes.
what happens is we lose touch.
what happens is we stop at the laundromat, and i don’t know if i am inventing the men smoking cigars on the porch, or if it is really thursday. what happens is i am nine and you are a few years older and we are in the laundromat with three baskets full of clothes.
what happens is my parents are waiting in the car and we have quarters weighing down our pockets and we are grown up as we press coins into the slots on the washing machines. we giggle because we are the youngest occupants of the one large room lined with washers and dryers, and we giggle and we wait for the buzzers. we grow unsteady, confused, younger as we realise that we have been wrong. suddenly we are infants and we glance around the room and we feed more quarters into the
predreamthe night before last i shut
my brain up again, let myself go,
let myself feel the blood feeling
its way to my toes, let myself
not think of anything but pine
cones & the insides of the word
no, how everything must get
curled up severely in its patient
wheels, how sometimes no means
the end premature, but how no
lets me clam up pretty, how it saves
me from the real evils inside my
head, how the dead skin & ideas
crumble into a mess i can't clean
up so i ward them off with no,
so i tell them how to go & how it's
not so bad being alone, how i lied
to my insides to keep them going,
how i told the lie to my father
for his heart & a good laugh.
the night before last i cut out
my magazine flesh for fingers
to hold your hand. the night before
last i cut myself into stanzas
so no one would run out of
breath. the night before last i
met myself like a wish i never
would have made, like a flower
made of cloth settled into your
curls, cropped close to the neck.
all wrongso i'll start the drinking into oblivion
after you leave because i'm more graceful
on my own, glassless, grass-fed,
godhead lonely & godless.
i'm more all right all alone where
i can't look at myself, from here
when you're far out, taking the bus back
home, which i wanted to be me
by the time i almost knew
i wasn't. if the bus hadn't come i could have
blamed my not so accidental wishes,
my back & forth desire, but you're already
gone. & no, it's not so terrible but right now
we're drunk & i'm fucking sad,
all right, i'm just sad
& with you & it happens at the same time
sometimes. i get sad & godless &
i sit down without a dream of getting up.
no, you're not awful & no
it isn't the worst but it just
feels pretty fucking bad
then i choked
i was thinking any of those islands
would have been enough
space for me
but we flew over not underneath
and the fucking light fell in an exclamation point
choking, holing up in the back
of my throat
with all that
my heavy space
like touching a photograph
from the mirror to the toilet
like something wrong,
like the sky, forbidden,
tonight it was purple out,
the city floundering, sitting wrapped
on top of itself like a huge octopus.
i kept washing my hands
it didn’t work
but i almost had it
love mute and beggingonce i kissed you so softly
i believed your face could
i believed your face
i believed & you begged
me to break it. i believed
you'd let your love grow
like toenails, the creeping ivy
unnotice that still strikes you
every once in a while, like
the shadow of my feet slowly
down your calves, like mold
& fungus, natural as dirt or
the marriage of green & blue,
easy & distant as a prayer
on the lips of the person who
misses you. for you the break
is clean & uninfected, unaffected
like the growth of your love,
neat & unafraid of death, & afraid
of cattails & toenails & their
desperate reaches, like the colour
of water could kill you quicker
than a breeze, like bits of you
you're not wearing are toxic.
let the earth hold its breath
a second & catch yours, & let
the waiting stop before you wait
out the dream, before the sideways
dying cast of the sun, before it rolls
out its tongue on another worm
frying on asphalt, still & natural,
fuller than the wolves' moon your
love, the notes of one las
aristotle's gardeni curl my body over
the edge of the fountain & remind you
about owls, owls seeking the good life
in reflections of rats,
the wealth that pales under the muttering
sun along the unedges,
the sharp ooze
of my shadow
in the dirt. what i notice about you
changes every day, is the perfect train wreck
laughter flung out of your throat, is
your flutter fingered attempt
to hold me around the waist, the moth wings
centring our material selves,
growing tangible in the hollow of collarbone
& shoulder, & we forget how
to grow older & we untie
our decisions from their roots,
let them slip like balloons, snag in tree branches
& the ends of my hair,
catching the fragments of sun you left behind
when you plucked its unripe cherry &
crushed it under your tongue. today courage calls
for the knot of our fingers
over a bridge & a new recipe for
blueberry cobbler but tomorrow i might jump
over to save a lemur or wasp
you'll try to persuade of your love. tomorrow
i could be the wind in the vat
leaving the nesti dreamed of
growing up a
from the oak
strong. where i
tried to feather
out my edges
i stayed firm
& full coarse.
where i tried
to love i lost
limbs & shed
skin. where i
tried to weep
over my own
roots, kept on
how to claim your birthrightshe moved constantly & never unpacked the boxes, like she'd fly away any second & watch the city unfold underneath like a lit-up bruise, with all its looping strands of streetlamps & cockeyed rivers & highways dangling jauntily from the face of the earth.
she spun a symphony beneath her, hung a spindly bridge across the womb harbouring all the world's cigars & half its barren fish.
you could send her a package & never be sure that it would reach her. she never left by plane because it meant she couldn't change her destination midflight & she listened exclusively to bob dylan & sundance film soundtracks. she sent christmas cards in march unapologetically because she believed in proving things & no one knows when jesus was born. she moved constantly & counted on everyone else to stay put so she could show up unannounced at their door at three am with blueberry muffins.
or so she said
she also once seduced a chinese god (or his son) who proposed to her in mandarin with a fortu
the destruction of destructioni leave
&empty watter bottles
on your floor
in case you decide to forget me.
this is just our dynamic
this is just how our relationship works.
i read you chapters of the
strangest book i know
&you have me create
voices for each character.
i am most comfortable as the narrator,
but you like my crazier caricatures best.
it reminds me of how you like
the stranger ways my mind works,
&how you will pry sharp things
from my clawed fingers
&show up late for work
just to make sure i eat;
the hateful frustration i feel
when my body yearns for its
only to be thwarted by something
it can't control;
it reminds me of how you love
the parts of me i most hate,
&the way we can fight
as we go to bed
but before i fall asleep,
i nestle myself into
the curve of your back
&i am safe.
the first poem i wrote since i told you i love youthe star-soaked stains
that covered our nudity
gives way at last
to a tequila sunrise,
so low in the sky;
it's still bright enough
to sting my eyes,
and yet i can't bring myself
to hate it.
your body next to mine,
every effort is made
to move a heavy limb
because any space
is space i don't want.
i am sometimes humbled
by my feelings,
the way they swell
in my throat
just how the ocean
tastes the shore.
there is always something new
to find hidden in my heart,
summoned by my words,
or the salt of your skin
wearing like wind on shale
i don't think i can ever tell you
i love you enough.
if i could, i would never get dressed
so that you could never be sad-
a rewind every time
my clothes touch the floor,
never anything but nude, not naked
because with you i can be bare
i can let you see my entirety
and leave my arms uncrossed,
i can let you in
and not fear that you will break me,
or force my inner things out.
i can love you with open arms
and my lip
maybe you never belonged to meI can still feel the weight of your lips on the curve of my collarbone. Sometimes, it feels paralyzing, crushing, absolute. Sometimes, it feels like home. Like everything.
I once heard that when you can't fall asleep it means you're awake in someone else's dream. I wonder which one of us was dreaming that night, because everything was too quiet, too easy, too perfect. You used to fall asleep next to me, your body curled against mine. It's a warmth that's not easy to forget. A hidden smile tucked into pillows and sheets. It's easy to think these things will last forever when you're tangled up together. For me, the strings of my life will always be tangled up in yours. Forever tied to you. No matter hard they attempt to fray. To fall apart. To sever.
It's snowing for the first time this year. Soft and gentle, glittering in the sunlight, falling in large flakes, easy and quiet – nothing at all like the storm that rages inside of me, turning up the corners of my heart, throwing shrapnel
the better things
1. break the bones that burn under your skin, but believe in the blood that warms it. we are forever changed by the sweeter songs of the stars we fall from.
2. i won't look at you, or you, or you, and i know tomorrow when i sing for her you will all trip over the tile and your tongue but nothing will change outside of you. or me. we might miss each other terribly for two seconds, but we will be the same and i thank god for that
3. winter treats you well, orange ash boy. vermont expands your diaphragm and the girls are aching to fill it. (i am aching to fill it.) your freckles are there and not here, and i realize that i love you
4. i was cleaning out my car and vacuuming the backseat when i noticed a cigarette burn on the floor. and i thought, "how did this get here?" and then i thought, "oh." and i thought about all the people i don't talk to anymore, and it was okay. it really was
5. it was seventy three degrees friday when i was driving and i know it's not economically-conscious to
see the cradlei want you, at three in the morning.
i want to borrow your books
and read their words invisible
taking a pen to the margins
to make sure you remember in
fifteen years that page two hundred and
eighty seven made me cry from its
first paragraph to truncated eighth
i am completely guilty
of wanting your lips on my lips
wanting your bones on my bones
a heart beat from my chest
moving into yours
a field of stars stretched
across my bed
& you and i lying beneath
i hope you don't mind.
i'm soaking in sin like the
sun's dying rays
and feeling electric.
for once in my life
i am on fire.
airskinny boy kissed me
kis,ses l,ik,e c,ommas , ,
breaking the waves of my own selfish sadness
o god skinny boy (willow man)
if I am worth something let me know. reasons 1,,2,3, , (4,5,6)
fingers curling over the top knob of
My spine (your spine is tall and proud
skinny love blue-eyed boy godless heathen /while You have no god I find mine in my own blood wide grin kid who is
, ,,, , , , ,,,,,,,,, , , ,,,,, ,,,,,,,
assault, batteryi cradle my discomfort
like a small child,
its hard heart beating against
the cold & the metronome
of the life ive built for it
destined to burn down orphanages
& send boys a-fire with my
opened eyes & opened arms
ive just been born a little
shy of the street corner
if i were to return
to the place i once called home
a war would ensue,
i would strip naked to prevent
the fight (no holds barred)
and hope my once strong
body could stop the fray
i am crossing swords with
the balance of the universe
my cotton lungs and
swallowing my doubt in
a hasty fashion
i have a hard time saying it,
but i am also in love
with the quandary
red tides.you touch me
in places ethereal
where the seasons have never
stirred the clocks.
in me, you have kissed
and i have loved you,
in return, with the force
that drove apart the continents
and with a breathless
seawreck gasping in my throat.
everything your silence saysi have not showered since thursday.
my hair is sticky and sprayed,
dry and dull, limp and wilting --
sad like me.
i have not seen my own hips
for three days,
i have hardly changed my clothes.
i do not want to do this.
my name is something lying forgotten
underneath the boxspring of your bed.
i am not a memory for you,
i am not a gift;
instead, i float in the crevasses
of your mind, never near enough
to the surface to be remembered.
every promise of life and love
you have given me,
every swear to never leave
i have given you --
it flounders in the ebbing seas.
i am not clean
and i am not beautiful.
my name is something lying forgotten
underneath the boxspring of your bed.
this is a poem, detailing the
wounds of my heart.
this is a poem, written for you --
you, the forgetful boy,
purple sleep dusting eyelids;
with your hands across your face
black & blue,
aftermaththis morning my heart woke
me up to tell me you're taking
your piece with you when you go,
tugging at the distance as your
plane left the runway and i wrenched into
the darkness you left me for and i swore
i could see the stars falling down around me
the minute i said your name and it echoed,
my god, the syllables sunk deep into the pit
of my stomach and rested there like seeds,
watered by the nights i spent telling what was left
of me to forget all of you while my insides
tried to figure out how to be less, necessarily
it never worked. it never does when you
treat hearts like candy bars, like pieces
you deserve to break off & take with you
like the chocolate centre of my soul i gave
you, instead of my blown glass shattering,
the battery that keeps me thinking about
my live wires at the edges where you picked
up & left; you had me making signal fires -
everything went up in smoke and
i found myself on the edge of arson
where i want to burn everything
down at the site, where i want to b
Dead Man's SwitchIn control, then not -
Sudden loss of grip.
Headlong to where?
Details lost, smudged, streaked.
Careening; no system of
No dead man's switch,
On a fast track -
With or without a god?
Keep in Touch!
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