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PrintsAs long as the marks last
I may be healing but your marks last
the feeling still echoes in my mind
having you linger there is its own bruise
that itches down my spine
that wraps around my lungs
memories that pulse with a life of their own
steps in another direction
only help, act as practice
if you don't believe them
then time can show you
yes or no
with maybe in the present intervals
Out of LineI don't know whether its old pain
and snapping out, for power or anguish
or mere frustration for wanting you to
just take care of yourself
not about being a perfect cover girl
the fake the perfectionist
I want you to sleep, eat, grieve
breathe, move, enjoy
and I know the load of So Not My Job
but this snapping
that is something I can address
you seem to have a good sense of yourself
a good sense of how to handle yourself
I know the underbelly makes handling the rest
that much more difficult
part of me wants to pretend I know enough
to be allowed to preach or argue on this
I never had this sense that I could
control, maintain, handle, anything myself
and if I hadn't just gained an intuitive sense
I could've hated and hated and hated
I got lucky in so many ways to keep that from happening
now I hate that you hate yourself
because I think you are wrong about yourself
I love the person you are
I'm not asking for icing
I get truly scared, confused, angry
because you don't and seem t
good conscioustake the time to learn
to think and differentiate
to pull out of this tailspin
of months and weeks of slow realizations
and indecision and not knowing needs
or wants or what was missing or assumed
some speed has already come
no longer gaining speed losing altitude
but still identifying danger and obscurity
before I'm ready for being someone
who could do small to big things like
say I love you again
or say I miss you
because all that would do is rub dirt in the wound
and bring no answers for all the pain
and now is not the time for answers just yet
But of course, tu me manques
Forget MathI thought mathematically
one emotion can block out another
you had one person to block out me
I thought gravity would be on my side
give me more weight
that no one else could figure into the equation
and then the last person
set me off
before I knew, I realized I wanted to balance one to one
just yours, just mine
now I need to balance myself out from the hole I made and the one you left
What Makes a Good Personnot in terms of pure or impure
not in terms of perfect or imperfect
but something in the way I am
makes people think I am one of the most
people they know
sometimes I am wise and sometimes I am immature
sometimes I am oblivious or overly focused
on one outcome or thought or understanding
I have good intentions and look out for people
as a general principle
but lately I fear I have begun to slip
and become ordinary, because I can't just
always look out for other people
and that doesn't bother people
but it bothers me
however, I have to remember there are other factors
now I have something I need to deal with
or I will mar my present and future, possibly past
any recognition, any possibility of functioning
as a human being
and that is worth more, being a human for myself and others
than taking care of others or worrying too much
about what I should do
I wonder if this realization makes me more human
or simply more aware
I do not know
I am not giving up good intentions, but my fo
Confusionconfusion is one of those things
that comes from having a dirty filter
the mind has so many things to sort through
emotions, thoughts, wonderings, perspectives
mind altering manifestos, values, secrets
that when the natural organization
of the mind, somewhat like a tea filter
gets overwhelmed and bits of everything
get every which where
and some thoughts that should never
combine, compare, connect
somehow end up swirling around in your brain
and as the organization of the mind tries
to reorganize, separate ideas and wants
and nightmares back to where they were
the mind finds itself lost in its own system
unsure if the teapot used to sit on that shelf
or if the filter used to look so dark
and either some new system comes along or
we are left in the dark as to what to do
Scarsevery summer I would count my cuts and bruises and bites
see if any would unfurl into scars
every night I'd explore my constellation of stories
some of which I never knew
a nick from a blackberry, a hurried greeting to a table leg
blooming into a purple or iron mark
later fading or whitening into teeth on my skin
for all the things I did
I only have a few of these marks
waves of puberty breaking over thighs and hips
apparently growing gives stretch marks
scratches that seemed like they would fade
as their stories and memories did
from the crooks of my arms
a few pink flags from a knife
I only kept a few of these, my body knowing
which stories to keep, which to fade
the best example is the remains of my largest scar
three long streaks of Ionan barbed wire
thick white vines from a vault over a fence
one of which is the surviving scar
to keep me company when I miss the old island
the pink flags were little reminder notes
that yes I did this
where I had wished the black ink tightening my c
To be contentTo be full
To have an emptiness, a hunger
That can be filled
Sated and calm, blur edges
Perhaps to let go
Of tears and fears and woes
Or just to remember those close moments
Before getting too close
To feeling empty again
And want for nothing more than hunger
That can be sated and sent away
Why do You Stare?Poking peeping pressing eyes watching
As I pull at my skirt and wish the wind would die
(after wishing I could fly and soar seconds before)
I wish my tote bag toto would become fierce and horrible
And scare off all these eyes staring
At something I do not understand
I do not know why they look at me
So many many eyes
Is it my simplicity
Is it beauty or wildness
Is it my confidence
Is it my wariness and alert body
What could you be staring at?
I wish you wouldn’t
I already feel like an outsider
Like an alien or creature borne of nuclear waste
I am allowed
I have the right to feel comfortable in my skin
To feel beautiful
So why do you stare
Like I am all my worse fears?
Why can’t you talk to me
Feel at ease?
If I am all these good things
By this society and possibly many societies
Why do you stare at me?
You don’t even know the things that make me impressive
Or scary or pathetic or interesting
So what do you see?
AmaranthineCast your dreams
To your body's tide
When your mind opens wide
All things end
Yet there's no goodbyes
From within your own eyes
How far gone? (Updated)Just because there's words
Doesn't mean there's a thought behind them.
(The slate was wiped clean.)
Just because my eyes are open
Doesn't mean I'm awake.
(I fell asleep long ago.)
I may be hearing
But that doesn't mean I'm listening.
(I've tuned into another station frequency.)
I may have been touched
But that doesn't mean I feel.
(I'm long past numb.)
Though I eat
I shan't taste.
(The food has been bland since before this.)
I wouldn't want to wake up.
(Your world is terrifying.)
My mind's eyes are completely closed
I like where I am.
(My world is nice. My world is safe. They can't get to me here.)
I'm in my bubble.
How far gone am I?
I can't take
All the pain I see.
(It shouldn't effect me.)
I feel like screaming
At the world.
(As if that would do anything.)
It's like torture
(Because I can't help you. I don't know how.)
So I'm hurting.
(I feel lost, you're always my constant.)
What do I do?
How can I help you?
(Please don't go! I need yo
SmileI am the clippings.
The shards and the trimmings.
The thrown away and wasted, stitched and pasted.
Lost and Fragmented.
But I'll put on a smile and pretend I'm not dented.
What do I write?I don't know what to write.
There's so much on my mind,
So many things that could take flight!
But I don't know what to write.
I could talk about inadequacy.
How I was lazy and immature and didn't listen in school.
How I don't have much vocab and my grammar is as useful as a broken tool.
How I don't write much because I'm afraid of appearing as a fool.
I could speak on inadequacy.
Then there's always anger.
How people say I'm good at art when all I see is a twelve year old's lines.
How my freedom is restricted and I'm just confined to two places.
How my friends don't respond and I sit here in stasis.
Yeah. I could write about anger.
But how about guilt?
How I've been such a asshole to my family in recent months.
How I've not stayed in touch with the friends who're living in hell.
How I screw up often and end up hating myself and not leaving my shell.
I don't know.
Maybe I just care too much.
Writing at OxfordBetween the dusty pages of
drunken novellas and tragic plays,
a small ferret creeps and a young girl strays.
Enticed by a fantasy mirror and
lightly cut by a subtle blade,
the fabrics between worlds gently part
and literature is new and made.
A delicate array of alternate ideas
welded together within the parchment of a book.
Be careful how far you peer between
the never-ending lines of flowing ink.
Beware of your ever changing daemons and
ensure you don’t fall for their trick.
For they would have you think that
there is nothing more behind these shelves.
The truths they do hastily conceal as
there is more than you could ever believe.
Keep your friends closer, your enemies closer still.
You’ll never know where you may meet as
you hide behind your wandering quill.
Wo willst du hin?Sie suchte sich
Sie versuchte sich
versuchte zu finden
Sie fand sich
fand sich nicht
Nord Ost Süd West
wer sollte sie
sollte sie nachhause bringen
wer sollte sie festhalten
denn es machte keinen Sinn
um einfach zu warten
On Wax WingsSpeak not softly
of your troubled fate
Huddled late, cross at the
Loss of doubled rates
Prostitute your sorrows
til the morrow can't come
Mind: scant and numb,
You borrowed some horrors
For you to Tell, See, Believe
Starve her beastly cheap when she's deceived,
Upheaved and ruptured,
As you yet corrupt her,
Leave her upstirred in life's broken structures
Who ever said you can see beyond the sun?
Beyond the moon, the sword, and beyond the gun?
Who ever claimed you could walk the seven seas
Through heaven's fire and through its dreaded breeze?
And thread with ease a Gordian knot at whim, known,
While playing your accordion hot with prim tones,
and prone to the thoughts of the world before you
Kneel, adore you to the core you deplore through?
Prostitute your every degradation
Blame it all off with prevarication
Declare with patience that you just can't face it
Deny your dishonesty, then embrace it
You harmed me,
Lied, defied, denied
And tried to get by
on wax wings to fly too high
Open Letter to A MisogynistHello Sir or Madam
I am here today to ask you a question
Why, and perhaps this seems to you an ambiguous question,
But why aren't you a feminist?
I don't understand, do you not believe women equal to men?
Do you not think that women are people?
No, you say? That's not what you think at all?
Than why aren't you a feminist?
Is it because you don't hate men?
Neither do I.
Is it because you're not a lesbian?
I'm not either.
Is it because you think we're already equal?
Is it because you believe the negative connotations of being a feminist?
That's what I thought.
But please, listen a moment longer
And hear my reasons
And understand that I am not mad that you are not a feminist
I only seek to make you see why
Being a feminist is so very important.
At sixteen I spend my life in school
Being sexualized by boy-men who's names I do not know
Being called a hot piece when I wear heels (I wear them because I'm short)
I have been told to cover up my shoulders when my shirt wa
XI (Life Lessons)One.
The people that crash into your life and then leave with slivers of your heart as souvenirs are not the ones. They do not care in the same way that you do.
That best friend who gets a little drunk and spills words out like a leaking faucet chose intoxication for a reason. Tread carefully, your sensitive friend just might be the best thing to happen to you in a long time.
The 'friends' that treat you differently may very likely be looking to get something from you. Discern what, and avoid them at all costs if necessary.
Those conversations you find odd often lead to more uncomfortable topics. Turn back as soon as you pick up on a change, you likely won't like where this is headed.
The regrets you have are the most memorable. Figure out what's going wrong and use the same ideas to create better memories.
Do at least three things in your life that are utterly insane. Live a little more than the average and you'll always be the one with the best s
whole holesLet's dance baby
Your little hands, your little shape
So beautiful, so wonderful
Eyes so wrong, but beautiful
I can't trade them with mine
Because then you'd see me
With my eyes and not understand
While I see you and not understand
Why? What happened? Who did this?
So perfect for me, you are mine
I am yours, perfect halves
You're shy when we dance
You watch my face, then away
In case you did something wrong
In case I see something that hurts
In case you aren't perfect to me
You watch the pattern with music,
Feet, body, hands, rhythm
You relax in, and it's like a whole
A hole in my heart fills the hole in yours
I wish you saw the way I do
There is nothing wrong with you
There is no perfection to everyone
Just to two people that fit perfectly
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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