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Unrequited FriendshipsHe began as just a new friend, a guy
who I hoped to get to know better, and
click with in any way possible, and
be with in any land, time, or season.
It became an obsession, a hobby,
a way to pass the time, to pass through life,
to imagine a false reality
that would never, ever come true for me.
He cared about me, and we were close, but
my imagination lifted him from
this world and into my own, a place where
I got everything I ever wanted.
It was an unhealthy fantasy land
where I believed too much, I believed too
greatly in the false hope of my heartstrings,
the fake daydream of my mind's creation.
He saw through my false hopes, and he saw through
my obsession, and he saw through my dreams,
and he saw me for who I really was,
a boy with a crush who just...wouldn't...stop.
And when he left me,
but kept repeating
I kept dreaming
I kept learning
I kept dreaming
I kept learning
Over and over, I made this mistake,
over and over, I'd take and I'd take,
living and learnin
forgivenessI clicked off the television and listened to the sudden silence of the room. With nothing to distract me, my thoughts came flooding in on me like a river, washing me over with more than my mind could handle. The future, gone. The past, all lost. The present, only the misery of the moment, and the heartache of my reality.
Blow after blow came at me, leaving me breathless with pain. I tried to stand, to hold onto whatever was left of my life, but the sadness kept raging over and through me.
In the silence of a breath, the stillness of a hesitating teardrop thinking of falling, I fell. I fell first, head to the floor, heart to the carpet of my den.
There was no answer. There would be no future. There was only this, a time of madness and grief for all my tomorrows I'd never see, all my joys left trapped in imagination.
He stood over me in the darkness, and I could just make out his stare. Happy for my fall, a joy in his eyes that
Keep It GoingThe dream you dreamed not long ago
is always close at hand,
like firewood that needs a push,
rekindling as it's fanned.
To have the dream is half the work,
and only just the start;
you need to keep it raging strong
to satisfy your heart.
A nudge or two might be enough
to get it burning bright,
but dreams are made of purest love,
and worth the lasting fight.
The magician, the mausoleum, and the egg crackerSelf-challenge: Write a short story using the title "The magician, the mausoleum, and the egg cracker" ...the elements of which only just came to mind (how they did I have no idea haha).
He closed the book with excitement, and found himself just staring out at nothing for a while, a thousand thoughts all coming to him at once. Could it be possible? A quick glance at the clock radio told him he should have gone to sleep by now, as his newest client was to arrive early the next morning. Sleep was, however, not even remotely possible after what he'd just found.
The book was a collector's piece he'd treasured but never really looked at, a second edition copy of a Henry James novel once owned by Harry Houdini. As a professional magician himself, anything remotely connected to Houdini was a priceless treasure, but the book had only cost him a few hundred dollars when he'd gotten it. It was no Houdini stage prop, but those were a lot harder--
My computer monitorThe monitor stared back at him,
no life or care or aim,
a soulless, mute third party to
this stupid, mindless game.
At times was used for purity,
and others most impure,
but always sat there staring back,
a care-less, cure-less cure.
It watched as things unraveled now,
and took it all in stride;
it saw it all, but had no care
for painful tears he cried.
Just a muse-less hum of watching,
untroubled by his fall,
with apathy and constancy,
and heartless of it all.
Her raspberry lipsHer lipstick made me horny,
and today she wore my favorite,
something raspberry, I'd guessed,
flavor as yummy as it looked.
I think she liked me too,
wanted to have some fun,
but I always got too nervous
whenever she came around.
"Hey Kip," she called me from her locker.
I nodded, coolest as I could,
my casual demeanor always hiding
my quickly beating heart.
I glanced away, but she was there,
spreading those raspberry lips,
looking at me with a daring smile,
and waiting for my response.
She was saying something funny,
hoping I would laugh,
but I couldn't stop just staring
at her perfect, raspberry lips.
My body couldn't take it,
the distance was just too close,
and if I didn't jump in now,
I'd never get the chance!
"Kip, are you okay?"
she asked before I lunged.
I moved in fast and kissed her
on her juicy, pe
A Poem in 3 DraftsPlease read the description BEFORE reading this poem in three drafts. Thank you!
Splattered and splintered nonsense
of the obtuse contusions of the obvious
or were they unclear? or clear?
I lost track of their flight plan midway
terminable logic finds me in the mountainside
talking to sheep like I know their language
though strangely enough, they know mine
and worship with me in the same church
legions of mercy come to me from the clouds
or sleeping, or sleeping clouds or more nonsense
obstructed knowledge finds a whimsy forward
dancing with my other half's other half
poetry concrete but flimsy falling
darkness always overcome
conquered by the end, found, discovered
but always still beating with an offbeat heart
Splattered, splintered nonsense
obtuse contusions of the obvious
were they unclear or clear?
I lost their flight plan midway
terminable logic finds me mountainside
talking to sheep like I know their language
though strangely enough, they know
Too DeepThe pain is deep as snow
that's never gonna stop
Like feet of snow two days ago
when new snow falls on top
I'm buried in the sadness
trapped beneath the fall
The pain is all above me
I've fallen far too low
I cannot feel my fingers
I cannot feel my toes
I'm buried in the sadness
The pain is deep as snow
Saturday Morning CoffeeThe first sips of coffee
on a Saturday morning
fill me to the top
I drink from the cup of now;
worries about yesterday's stress
or the checklists of tomorrow
have no place in my today.
The sweetened taste of everything
is here in front of me,
and the cream of a sweet dream
mellows in this mixture.
I stir in my weekend,
and drip out my plans,
as I sit back and am,
here in this moment, now.
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
SightStars in the night sky
I see beyond that and through
Greatness into darkness, I can fly
Here above the earth I can see the truth
There is an angel that will love me until I die
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
jackal grinMy orange peel
lips split: the beams
a deck of cards
nana’s worn porch,
and fingers weaving
through grass blades
when the light is
soft and warm.
(have you f
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
Lovely GirlSoft and brown, her hair waved at me
with a whisper and a giggle,
her smile a hint of more
and a promise of adventure.
Her flirting glances weren't needy,
or forward in an unseemly way,
just perfect and lovely
in a most adorable fashion.
The evening carried on
as evenings do,
and our glances back and forth
We only spoke that once,
as we passed in the hall,
but her voice and mine
After midnight when she left,
I followed her outside,
not wanting to be lost
without her touch or smile.
She was gone too quick,
I'd missed her, and my chance,
but once I came back in,
I found she'd not yet left.
Another look, another grin,
and her hair, oh that hair,
it wanted to be stroked
if time and place would give.
We found a place, a space,
and spoke at last for long,
minutes into hours,
as guests all took their leave.
And as the time ticked on,
and as the party died,
the time to act had come,
the perfect way to close.
We leaned in near and kissed,
a gentle, perfect bond,
Hath No FearGiving yourself completely up to fear is kinda like falling in love: You can't pin point exactly when it started and by the time you realize that you are surrounded by that sensation it's already game over. Just like the image of the person you are in love with starts creeping out from every unexpected corner, fear never leaves your side when you give it a welcome stay. After a restless sleep, it starts beating anxiously in your heart the moment you wake up in the morning and commands all your thoughts and actions throughout the day. It is nothing short of a prison, except you are the only inmate and the warden never takes a break. Ever.
I do not exactly remember when I let fear occupy my being but I remember the exact moment when I realized I was ruled by it. It was late in the afternoon, everybody was out there 'getting busy living' and I had locked myself inside my bed half awake, not particularly finding any valid reason to get out of it. Then I was awakened from a nightmare by my
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