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Until Death Parts UsThere are soft pink roses
the living room window.
They shudder and grow in the windblown rain,
stunted and neglected by
all save chance.
Stupid luck nourishes
the roses outside the window,
but who will come
for those within?
Shielded from chance, a boy cries
hoping for everything, but trying not to.
He reaches for a rose through the window
pulls it to himself
cradles it in his broken hands.
Maybe it will call in the rain.
A thorn bites his skin, and makeshift rain
drips from his hand to his scraped knee.
He smiles carefully,
and in spite of his attempts at hopelessness
he wishes silently
for his world to be thrown inside out.
the roses are withered and dead but she is alive
and she loves him back.
She is the rose;
she is light or love or something that feels precious
and she smiles
and he reaches for her
hoping that she is like the rain,
and she will free him.
Was it chance that brought her?
Or was it the wind?
Rain On UsSometimes,
I cry for the world.
And then the rain falls
into my ears and my nose and my heart
and I wonder why.
It whispers back to me,
because you live in it.
And it's sad and it's stupid
maybe it's not even right
but as the cynical rain washes over me,
I smile anyway,
I'm wrong after all
and the world is too beautiful for my tears.
Another Kind of WrongSomeone close to you once said,
there’s a kind of beauty in silence.
and anonymous masses said,
you’re too different
and different is wrong
someone said that they wanted to change you
somebody told you that you weren’t good enough for the world,
and you tried not to listen,
but you heard.
And I asked you
why are you pretending
that it doesn’t hurt?
and from far away, someone said,
You curl up inside me like a flower in my throat
let me do the talking,
let me live in your place.
The ice in my chest is burning
and you scrape the ceiling of my mind
asking at once
to be set free, but pleading
for me to never let go
and so I cling to you
cracked in a thousand places
sing away my voice
and you disguise your shivering with laughter
and I watch as you
melt through my fingers
in ten thousand ways
masked in ten thousand disguises
so that when you finally fall,
you’re already too broken for it to matter.
And the c
World-WatcherBlood on the sidewalk
mingles with his tears
and the source of the drip
dripping of lifeblood onto the street
because, I suppose,
we were all too afraid to look.
Turning heads fit smoothly into our turning world
as they turn, turn,
turn to look at his blood
his lifeblood on the street
and his tears will dry soon
and he will stop
and we will stop
not for long.
And the source of the drip
dripping will return
silent and brooding and silent
and they will be afraid
afraid to look
but their heads still turn
and I want to move him
to move you
but we are both still
and turning heads find the
two teenagers on the sidewalk
spilling onto the street
side by side
hand in hand
these were the forgotten
the suicidal teenagers
that nobody caught,
because we were all
InvisibleHello, do you remember me?
Do you need some reminders?
I am the face in the crowd,
The one nobody notices,
The one who you never hear speaking
Because you never listen.
Do you remember me now?
Do you remember all the times I stood up for you,
All the times you brushed me off?
Do you remember?
I am the one who listens to you when no one else is willing.
I am that one person whose name you always forget,
Whose homework you can cheat from,
I am the one who will always remember you.
Whenever I saw you in the hallways, I would smile and wave.
Sometimes you would wave back,
More often you wouldn’t notice
You would walk on with the group of people you chose to call friends
While I sat back down in the back corner of the room
Waiting silently for class to start.
I remember you.
To Make a DifferenceThe roads are paved with soot
and the buildings laced with suspicion
and as ash crumbles beneath my feet,
a dead man whispers
something about change
and I whisper in return that I’m sorry
but I have none
none that I can spare, anyway
and the sky is seasoned with despair
because we will not change
there is no change
none to spare, anyway
and outer voices cry out
and the weak die
and the hopeless scream
and the strong reach out and build
but never change.
We are the remains of a fire that died out long ago
the remnants of what could have been great
and we grew and we grew
and we forgot
what it was that we were searching for
and the voiceless and the pathetic and the weak
everyone who can see
who has seen
something about change,
spare some change
because they have none.
And cars sweep up soot
and steam pours into the despairing sky
and the strong live
and the rest die,
and humanity goes home and prays to its imagined savior
Identity ThiefWhy would anybody want
to care about me?
I grew up loved by obligation
not by choice
and it shows when you don't mean it
but I understand, because why
would they ever want to care about
stupid and dim and silent and sad and vague
and not very good at anything that matters.
I wish I could scrape my fingertips across shards
of broken glass
to scrub away all my fingerprints.
Everyone who sees me, then, will look
and I will be different
For those people, though,
the two of them,
they each get some of my fingerprints
so that they can hold them however they like
and believe that it's me they're controlling
even though I'm somewhere else entirely
pressing broken fingers to broken paper
so as to carve onto the white space
my very own fingerprint.
Why would anybody care about me?
Why would anybody want to?
Me, without a face, without a tongue
I am my ears
and I hear you
and I heard you
but I have hands, too,
and a voice
and probably a heart as well;
PracticeLet me practice dreaming
lest I forget how.
Let me practice loving you
lest you forget I’m here.
Let me practice speaking
and screaming your name
lest you forget the sound of my voice;
then together we practice wordplay and gunshots
and resistance and politics
and bloodshed and violence
and the hate crimes that all sound just a bit too familiar -
we practice those
lest we forget the world.
But we don’t really need practice for the inescapable, do we?
Truthfully, instead of living with reality,
I’d rather dream;
but if I sleep forever,
the world will spin on without me
carrying you with it
so I keep up
and I learn
and I take in the world around me
and I do everything I’m supposed to do.
But every night,
I go home
and I dream.
DreamsWhen I was young,
I was so immersed in my perfect world
that every time I fell and hurt myself,
I bled dreams.
Back when 'stupid' was a bad word
and love was an unbreakable smile,
the wind had a voice and the flowers whispered to me
speaking fondly of the seeds that would grow into their children.
Back then, I was always singing,
and I sang of trivial things like sunshine and ice cream
and everything that I loved -
everything my world was made of.
A few years ago, though, I fell particularly hard
and all my dreams
spilled out of my knees onto the pavement.
now that soft words and wishes
appear grey and dull and meaningless
in the eyes of the world,
I fear that all our dreams
have been pumped full of red.
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
You're worth so much moreShe was the type
to cut her wrists,
and then swallow the
because looking at what
was even harder
but I want to tell her
to let the emotions
p i l
out of her mouth,
instead of her
and that I'll gladly
let the words slice me,
if it means
You're beautifulPlease eat.
Are you listening to me?
If you are,
I want to tell you.
You re beautiful.
It doesn't matter what you weigh,
you shouldn't feel guilty about what you ate.
It doesn't matter,
I promise you things will get better.
Listen to my words,
Hold my hand.
Don't worry about the rest of the world,
It's okay if they don't understand,
How it feels like,
To feel fat,
To feel ugly,
To feel worthless.
You are none of those things.
It s okay to be chubby,
It s okay to be skinny.
Because you have a big heart.
And your smile,
Is like a priceless work of art.
And I don't want to see you destroy,
Because you're more than just a broken toy.
And to everyone else,
So for once let yourself be,
Accept your reflection.
Because you are the definition of perfection.
So don't worry,
Don't be sorry,
To be who you are.
Because you re,
Those Green Eyes (Or: Don't Lie to Your Kid)Those green eyes -
The green of joy
The green of hope
The green of love and acceptance -
Were always full of lies.
They first lied when I said,
After a nightmare at four am
When I was too small to reach a light switch,
“Will you ever leave me?”
And those eyes said,
Why did those green eyes
Shut when I needed them most?
"Are you okay?"
Would be a red line
That I would etch into myself
Those green eyes melted.
Those green eyes did shine
And I knew what it was -
I was young, not stupid -
But I indulged the lie,
For those green eyes.
"Will it get better?"
I asked one sunny Saturday
At ten in the morning
And those green eyes looked away;
“And you’ll be here forever?”
There were no words.
I made up my own affirmative.
Those green eyes -
When they saw
How I’d rubbed myself raw
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
What is Hope?Hope is something we have as children,
It helps us thrive and try our hardest.
Hope is what we express in the worst of times
When all hope seems lost.
Hope is what people possess in life
To work toward our dreams.
Hope is a lie
That's not worth our time.
AnxietyAnxiety tapping on my door,
"Can I come inside your head?"
I shiver, not ready for its visit.
It charges in, smelling of worry.
Spends a morning, afternoon and night,
playing with my emotions.
A marionette dancing its old tune on rough strings.
Leaves me winded and praying to beat it the next time.
I Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger TogetherI Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger Together
if i’m being completely honest,
i can’t say i know what you’re goin’ through.
and if i’m being frank,
i’m sort of afraid to write this
because i’ve always been unsure
if i love too much but it’s my nature
and i’d rather lose by trying too hard
than to do so without doing enough.
i hope you’re asleep now
and i hope you don’t read this
till the morning and i hope by then
things will be a little lighter
but i’m hoping against hope
because if you don’t know,
i feel when things are off.
call it intuition, call it a feelin’,
say i just know it.
my friend, my door is always open
even when you’re feeling closed
off to the world and right there,
i can understand that feeling well,
because i still feel we relate to one another
better than most brothers understand their sisters.
know i look at you as a sibling
and i believe we know when the other
I miss youYou are a ghost in my head
Living, yet you haunt my thoughts today
To speak your name
Would be to desecrate this space
Where you are, I should not care to know
But you are a never-healing wound
An unfulfilled promise
A chance to do no wrong
My memories burn with your taste, your touch, your smell
Who have I become?
Too long have the years been to me
To find myself wishing for the crossroads
For the chance to say no, one more time.
Permanent PretendWe live in a world of bedbugs and frostbite
of smiles and tears;
we live in a world where we blink into the sky and pretend to laugh
because the people around us pretend to do the same
and children have the best imaginations
they never have to pretend to be real.
Obligatory bedbugs bite into
as we pretend to believe in the
that we're accustomed to.
Yet smiles blend with salt water
as we cry over spilled milk
spilling from sockets in patterns that we wish
we could control.
In the end, none of it matters;
we dissolve slowly into ourselves
as the world forgets us.
But as we look into the end of the sky
we still find ourselves wishing and wondering
what it would be like
if we could breathe the clouds...
And I suppose
Obligations surround us and
the atmosphere battles our being,
and we pretend and pretend and pretend that the world is nothing,
yet somehow most of us live on in love
with our own dreams.
Still, as bed
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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