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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.
GlassFly with me
through the empty universe
and I will fill the sky with our love
and my heart will spill out
onto the surface of the stars
and you will smile and say that I’m beautiful
that I’m not worthless
things that I could never believe.
Let’s fill the sky together
dance across the ocean
and I’ll probably step on your toes,
but you won’t mind
and we’ll splash through the sea foam
and the droplets of soft green water will roll down your skin
and the world will be perfect and blue and beautiful
maybe not for long,
but at least for those moments
it will be perfect.
But, you know,
our world is like glass.
Beautiful and smooth and transparent
but it can cut deeper than you would believe
and it doesn’t take much
to shatter it.
I would live in this world with you
as long as you like
or as briefly;
be it for an hour or a lifetime, I will stay in our glass world
no matter how harsh and cold it be
LegacyI wish you hadn’t left me your legacy
of purple-black bruises lacing my skin
of the cracked ribs, the broken bones, the anxiety attacks,
the lies and the screams and the shouting
couldn’t you have just let me be?
did I really deserve you?
My wrists are scarred with apologies
and my mind is
with your broken mentality
and maybe I’m ungrateful
and maybe I’m being unfair
and maybe I really did deserve you
and... I'm sorry
I wish you had kept your damn legacy.
MemoryTen thousand souls scream into eternity.
We scream for freedom
we scream for the world to remember us:
did not create us;
did not make me;
the only one in charge is me
the only one in charge is you
in charge of every person on this planet
in charge of every ghost,
I don’t care
I don’t care
I will remember
I will remember
I will remember you if I am the last person left alive
I will remember you if I die tomorrow
I will remember you even if I melt into a ghost of a shadow in your mind
When fear chews through the inside of my heart,
when your tears burn holes in my skin,
when love explodes within me
like a bomb, like a fire, like the explosion of your voice as I fell
Don’t give in.
If you like,
I will memorize every angle, every curve of your face
and paint it in the stars
so that when the earth bursts and burns in the sun,
the universe can still smile.
Becoming the SkyMy breath paints a picture in the air
cold and gray
and when I reach out to touch the indigo sunset,
she backs away
and turns black.
Yet the stars laugh,
and I touch your hand.
You do not flinch
you do not back away
but you sigh
and your breath paints the air beside mine.
I know that
you know that
yes, you know that best of all
because soon, you will stop breathing.
Soon, you will touch the sky
and she will touch you back
and she will pull you away from me
away from your life
away from the world
and your breath
Your hand is warm today.
Your hand is warm and dark and real
and it fits just right inside mine
and for an instant,
it doesn’t matter that we’re temporary
it doesn’t matter that we’re mortal
In this instant,
we are real.
As the sky looks down on us,
I know she’s going to take you soon.
But not yet.
I squeeze your hand.
I'm Tired and Want To Go HomeHer name was Beatrice. I don’t think anyone besides me and him knew that. I don’t think he’s alive anymore. I think he drank himself to death.
Maybe he jumped off a cliff. Maybe he drove himself into a wall, or another car. I hope nobody else was hurt.
Maybe he shot himself.
Maybe he collapsed on the side of a road and died there, with nobody left to cry for him.
Her name was Beatrice, but he didn’t have a name. She called him Kevin. She called him Kevin and ‘darling’ and ‘sweetie’ and ‘monster.’ He called her ‘bitch,’ and ‘pointless,’ and sometimes, when he was in a very good mood, he called her Beatrice.
I remember overhearing them, once, talking to each other.
Once Upon a TimeOnce upon a time, she sang
once upon a time, your face was round and your voice was soft
you ran down the sidewalk,
laughing back at me
to hurry up, the dragons are chasing us
and they’re hungry today
hold on to your imaginary friend, because today,
Once upon a time, she sang
once upon a time, your legs were long and your eyes were clear
your hair flowed behind you as we chased each other
and you called back to me
to hurry up, because the magic portal
will close soon
so hang on tight to your loyal steed, because today,
Once upon a time, she sang
once upon a time, your legs were sore and your voice was rough
you walked down the road, pretending not to see me
and I called to you,
hurry up, the dragons are chasing us
and they’re starving today
and you smiled sadly and as you walked past, I whispered
hold on to your true friend, because today,
we run away.
Once upon a time, she screamed
once upon a time, your legs were strong and your eyes were bright
and we ra
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
YouIf you’re a girl, you’re a girl.
If you’re a boy, you’re a boy.
If you’re white, you’re white.
If you’re black, you’re black.
If you’re gay, you’re gay.
If you’re bi, you’re bi.
If you’re straight, you’re straight.
If you’re religious, you’re religious.
If you’re an atheist, you’re an atheist.
If you’re mentally disabled, you’re still human.
If you’re physically disabled, you’re still human.
For everything you are:
So who are they to judge you for who you are?
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 breathe 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
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
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
daydreams and monsters.she was a girl.
she ran with the moon,
chased fireflies in the bluegrass, and
watched the reflection of sunsets in rain puddles.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
but to the dragonflies she was a queen,
and to the mirror she was a sister.
the moon was her prince, and the
blinking windows were the eyes
that kept her safe.
she spent her nights making wishes, and she
dragged her fingers along the shooting stars
that were tangled with her vertebrae.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
her body was a river
her mind was an ocean
and her heart was the sky.
she lived in a world where
doves flew in the sea and
whales swam in the
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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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