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River, Stay Away From MeI am sorry Ocean
I am sorry
I know I lie
Deeper than you
Standing near the edge
My mistakes are a bit too many
My wounds a little too serious
My passions dead
Ocean I am sorry
That River has ruined me so
River why do you consume me still?
Rushing and making noise, forever onward
But I stay trapped beneath your current
River, will you let me go?
Can I let myself go?
Can I go home?
... I guess not ...
I want to return to Ocean
But you flow in the wrong direction
Pushing me towards your backwards waterfall
I want to leave
Instead I will be disembowled
And my entrails stretched
From River to Ocean
She Stares At Me, And TwitchesFeistiness and Lethality
Poured into a Bowl
Taken from Me
Silver quarters and brown Spoons
All my Treasures
And from where I Sit
I approach the girl in her Sweater
She's thinner than I
I lean in towards Her
And tell Her
"My brown quarters and silver Spoons
Were stolen from me
And poured into a Bowl
With feistiness and Lethality"
She stares at Me
To My Lover +ErrDo I take the inconceivable sensation of you
And stretch it out too thin?
Do I suck dry at your infinitesimal being
Attempting to elaborate on a dot?
How am I to actually love you (or the idea of you)
If you don't even comprehend your existence?
How are we to intermingle and conjoin eternally
When my cognition writhes under intangible supposition?
Oh, my only lover
Does my inflexible stance of anguish
Drive you from my fragile arms?
How am I to escape this aggravating spiral
The Infinite WeightWhen one cannot express any words
And nothing can aptly be spoken
The smell of suffocation begins to surface
On the shoulders of young artists
The smallest weight is placed
To test their perserverance and focus
But within a few years
Their abilities will be compounded
On the shoulders of attractive artists
Lies the sadistic ethereal weight
Where success is at the tip of fingers
And open galleries so, so near
Nothing could ever seem too small
On the shoulders of struggling artists
Rests the infinite weight
Dragging them down into a useless bog
Where all that will await them
Is weakness, apathy, and rejection
When one cannot express any words
And nothing can aptly be spoken
The smell of failure is undeniably near
The judgemental.What the hell is going on with the world today?
People arguing with others about gay marriage.
Letting their religious beliefs get the best of them.
Judging these people because of their "transverse" aspects.
People arguing with who gets investments
Who will go to war with who.
Protecting their investments.
People who argue about the acceptance of abortion.
What women should do with their own bodies.
The killing of fetal bodies.
Deciding if women should be injected with the papilloma vaccine.
While most women are not sexually active.
People shunning others because of their appearance.
Because they are overweight.
Because they are hideous.
Because they are freaks.
They definitely don't care about what exists in the inside.
People judging others based on their race, ethnicity and disabilities.
Disabilities of all kinds.
People stereotyping men and women based on their sexual orientation.
Lesbians and the Gay.
I have only one thing to say about these on-going battle
My ShellWhen I was young I wondered, why did chickens have eggs?
Was it so the yolk didn’t get everywhere?
Was it to make baby chicks look like pearls?
Or was it simply to have eggs to paint for Easter?
Years went by and by elementary I was the geek the nerd
The teacher’s pet who always knew the answer and would never share his work
I was the kid at the front of the class bright eyed and desperate to learn everything
Until I found out what a dork was.
I thought to myself I’m not a whale’s penis
I’m a little boy just like you
Why do you hate me?
So I stopped
I stopped raising my hand
I stopped answering questions
I stopped being a little boy
Instead I was a baby chick
Hiding in his shell
Letting them paint me with their words
But never letting them in
Because if I don’t let them in it doesn’t hurt, right
Wrong it does hurt it hurts worse than the sticks and stones
And all those broken bones
It hurts not because of the words that were splattered on my sh
Louder than thunderEyes blurred, starry
Breathe heavy, distracted
Skin hot, silky
Voice burred, eager
Breasts perfumed, lush.
She made my five sense louder than thunder
You're desperate, you're not originalCraving love
is a human's factory state
( reset reset reset )
so how could you be
anything but bitter?
We're a pack of hungry dogs,
starving for love, oh gods,
who let us off our chains?
Tearing into each other
as if it could teach us
how to hold a heart
between our sharp teeth.
You see them everywhere -
love floats on, all around,
but never where you are,
or so it seems.
It's alright, it's simply
what you are - we pick
each other apart, because
"this is it, this is love,
this is what we need."
Honey, you're nothing new -
part of a pack of hungry dogs,
howling at the moon, howling
at this girl, howling howling.
We're desperate, some hungry dogs
delivered with a faulty factory state.
MonsterWhen I was younger I was never afraid of the dark. The cold unforgiving black that frightened other children never seemed to bother me. I was content to sit by myself dreaming of a way that I could be alone with the wind and my thoughts forever. It wasn't until I started to become older and the horrors of everyday life appeared, that the dark seemed to frighten me.
I had convinced myself when I was very small that monsters did exist, but who said they had to be bad? In my mind the monster under my bed and I had tea whilst I slept, in my head I hosted wars and I flew on the wings of birds that there will never be enough words to describe. I always believed that monsters where real, but I never believed they were bad.
And I had set up protection for those who sought me harm, I went to bed every night knowing that the teddy’s I positioned around my bed would fight of anything that didn't mean me well, and they had won every war. But it was the horror of everyday life that slowly dwi
TitledIt's not healthy to feel like you wanna die.
I know this..
I'm just too ignorant to change my thinking.
Very similar in fact, to the reason for why some of us keep smoking
We don't have to do it
we can put it down
we can quit...
however despite the fact that we pay for our death many of us don't give a shit.
It's this type of thinking that get a lot of people saying that we should just die
we contribute nothing to society so why do we keep living
sometimes it's as simple as living just to piss those people off
This isn't a poem but rather a collection of cynical thoughts that assist me in living
and I know I'm not the only one
I know I'm not the only who won't talk about my problems cause it makes me weak
I know I'm not the only who won't go to a therapist because of the stereotype that therapy is for
It's the ability to not quit that will ultimately end up killing me
and I welcome it with open arms.
I'll ObserveI'll observe them while they play,
Analyze their merry ways.
I'll absorb them while they play,
Recognize what games are feigned.
I'll observe them while they play,
Them chasing their poor lives away.
I'll forget them while I play,
Once I've learned from their mistakes.
A Pint of DogmaA pint of dogma, if you will.
A cup of wine for such a pill.
A diet of carbs for those so holy.
Two words to save m’self so wholly.
Sunday MorningSundays have come a long way
It's a nice morning on this side of the same window in all my memories
If you only stare at the light on the walls
Where the matchstick man lets in the prescription light
Healing the world of me
Before I’m sick with the warm memory of
Light poured through hallmark movie mornings and grandma’s wholesome soup
I might as well write with a tongue tied in kno-ts
Stall ju-st stopping these stout struts of stuff
This stuff, is better described as stuff than what I tried with a tongue pen
Memory will never be the feeling even with a brain pen
I will need a time pen to write myself over again into the past
But then there is no need to write or time for me as me to be and last
And me as me to see there is a need to stay in those moments forever
Yet we have never stayed in a moment, except this one, long enough to feel
Only long enough to make a memory
That is why it still feels bitter to trust our memory to feel
When we have never once been so far away fr
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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