november started out just fine, what's next?and i walked outside, i hadn't slept in 26 hours, i was in a daze, a dumb stupor of sorts,
marveling and tilting head back and looking
just looking.
it was teriffically cold,
and very beautiful.
Newest
Faces of the Street.1. faces of the street disintegrate in blessed short-circuitFaces of the Street.
drunkenness and un-remembrance of limbs and thoughts and words that tear warped passing splayed out clear, unclean on house steps and porches
2. love of life and liquor and
joy of not-being swims behind eyes of the street
3. lady with cigarette and four kids at home playing with scissors sink full of dirt husband full of sleeping pills
4. old woman in mink coat feather hat, feather eyelashes
only clothes left and the skin she wears &nb
by ~emyli25
Today Is.as on Mounting Hill they sow and reap strange love-fruit iridescent cut into over-fresh womb and rapeToday Is.
those beloved and torn
those beloved who sacrifice and yell songs of self-righteousness off the mountain of - carne, cărnos, act carnal -
and those who strip and paint themselves naked still against gas-station scenery minus the accent the cigarettes they throw themselves into - carne, cărnos, act carnal -
and those who Have Never Told A Lie and are full of shit
and those who dance clot
by ~emyli25
Daffodils.I want to kiss the whites of your eyes marvel at the smoothness the colour that shies away from light I push my fingers through the cylinders of sound and black and sight depths unknown, listening to them is like making love to an octopus (hands and writhing in sheets of ocean green)Daffodils.
I want to touch the skin that rattles like snakes deep New England foliage underfoot the skin that knows the feel of immense yellow a
by ~emyli25
Favourites
15this will be the worst15
thing i have ever written.
it will not follow proper grammer rules and
it will be abstracted in the way writers shouldn't write. abstract, in a way that no one can agree on a
define- ition for.
by *betweenthepages
GlassI remember not the roads that lead to the glasser's shop, but if there be sun and moon light barely caught in prisms gleaming brilliantly, Without a doubt that be the place where fragile glasses wake to life As if enchanted by Little Folks hiding in folds of thick daylight.Glass
A Tiger looks into a mirrored lake Grinning at the dashing one within-- and Butterflies, with blown-glass wings suspended by nearly gossamer strings swing to and fro, like pendulums, occasionally forming neat array that scatters--like raindrops on a drum-- whenever spring-winds
by ~Filozofa
hearts don't have hearts.the boy was an acid trip on legs.hearts don't have hearts.
he was the one who'd curl his arms around your waist and sing his laugh, the one who sat on sidewalk vents handing out his heart to pedestrians. through his eyes, the only thing that cut the world in half was the difference between those who could handle a heart with care, and those who couldn't.
-
i was the girl who thought a smile could shade my scars, the one with the eyes that never heard her lips. i met him busking at the train station and he handed me a piece of paper.
it said, this is my heart.
i've taken it from its rightful plac
by ~ocd-arsonist
UnhearddeviantID
| seventeen, long-haired, wide-eyed, wondering if i could sell my soul for a long hug, a grip on Things. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Suceava, Romania
- deviantWEAR sizing preference: Small/XSmall
- Interests: literature, music, hugs, rainy days, pianos, madness
- Favourite movie: eternal sunshine of a spotless mind, requiem for a dream
- Favourite band or musician: a long list with footnotes and asterisks
- Favourite genre of music: piano-violin-cello-guitar-type-thing
- Favourite artist: salvador dali, tori amos, amanda palmer, antonio gaudi, edgar degas,
- Favourite poet or writer: charles bukowski, nora iuga, jack kerouac
- Favourite photographer: a silly green cat by the name of Kitty
- Favourite cartoon character: cow&chicken, scooby doo
- Tools of the Trade: pen&paper&lengthy introspections&sudden bursts of madness
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--
a cold fuck and a goldfish memory
(sarah kane -- crave)
--
When the morning gather the rainbow, I want you to know, I am a rainbow too.
--
a cold fuck and a goldfish memory
(sarah kane -- crave)
--
When the morning gather the rainbow, I want you to know, I am a rainbow too.
so, anytime.
--
a cold fuck and a goldfish memory
(sarah kane -- crave)
--
Struit insidias lacrimis cum femina plorat
< When a woman weeps, she is setting traps with her tears.>
(Dionysius Cato)
--
a cold fuck and a goldfish memory
(sarah kane -- crave)
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