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my howls are silentI, too, see the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness. We are decomposing too early, our souls dying before our bodies can catch up. We are silently ravenous, a quiet craze in our hearts, not quite the same as your generation, Ginsberg. We do not shriek "Holy! Holy! Holy!" as we burn. We drown soundlessly.
The overeducated, proud products of postmodernism dissolve in a lukewarm soup of ennui, bored balloons filled with hubris rather than helium. Fragile dolls with flaking bones and hair and skin like flowers wilting, weighed down by indomitable wills and insecurities... these plastic girls starve to death and diabetes in the car beside me, fantasizing about food in the passenger seat. Former nymphets gouge symbols into themselves, the bleeding crags physical outlets for the demonic depression, for the memories of beloved older brothers molesting them in the living room, while her mother sits at a hospital bedside beside a fading father.
I see the most remarkable minds crippl
your song reminds me of swimmingslipping into the cool cerulean blue
unwrapping myself in this u n d e r w a t e r world
until I am mentally naked
beneath the liquid ceiling
my mask m e l t s away
sugar and spices and everything niceness
and all my pretendings drift apart, dissolve
I swallow the sound, and it swallows me whole. The church bells are echoing in my head, their clangs in my heart, shaking me, reaching into my thoughts and rendering me speechless. Your Lolita, your Rosita, a Maria. I want to be all of them for you. The idea frightens me, and the cold fingers of fear clamp around the beating organ beneath my breasts and squeeze, and again all words leave me. Years of ingrained love of tradition and devotion to conservatism beat against my brow, and the threat of discovery and migraines plague my mind. Moths pester me, tickling the walls of my stomach; and coals burn slowly beneath, Hell's Gate, II, simmering. I apply my cherry chapstick with shaking hands, tossing furtive glances towards my family, paranoid that I'll be discovered fraternizing with another potential lover yet again.
And discovery, this time, would prove fatal, lethal, to my stuttering heart, that bird named Moses dying in its birdcage, my ribcage.
Dear , Dear $@&&$@,
I am disgusted by my longing for you. It revolts me, repulses me. My craving for someone to openly feel affection for me transforms me into a twisted, hideous beast; a manipulative, whiny bitch; and a petty, simpering airhead. I despise myself. I detest what I've mutated into, this sick creature. You could have loved me once, but these rusted knives of sentences, covered in my blood and vomit, have warned you away. Beware: Keep fleeing.
For I long to be your little snowflake girl, your petite American muse. I want to bask in your so-white smiles, bathe in your dark and wild eyes. I adore your funny Anwar nose and your Ralph Lauren cologne. I want to be present, cheering you on, when you graduate in fifty days. I want to be standing there when you celebrate your doctor-ship, when you're holding your med school diploma in a de
no, pleaseI think, despite all the objections against love that I so boastfully proclaim, what I crave most is for someone to steal away my gaze, hold me softly by the shoulders, silence me, and tell me quite seriously that they love me.
oceanThe Ocean's tides flow and ebb like the moon's,
Waxing and waning, never sleeping, no,
Thinking they can tame her, foolish buffoons,
Tried to control her, she dealt the death blow.
Drowning in her fury, unwise sailors,
Thought they could rule her, break her, chain her,
Murdered with a vengeance, curse'd horrors,
Their corpses lost, no killer much crueler.
Volatile, barbaric in nature,
Deceptively sweet, secretly sour,
Seemingly benign, not one may conquer,
Poise'd to pounce, waiting to devour.
Violent, unrestrained creature this,
None can resist her luring, deadly kiss.
HypocrisyI own great admiration for the blank slate. It possesses many unwritten ideas. They paint my waking dreams with realizations that hide beneath preset realities. What is caged within the sleeping soul that so cowers beneath human concept? The blank page embodies all that is, was, and ever will be--in minds both unwritten and out voiced. There are tears, and laughs, and screams among the blank pages of existence. Pages, which are devoted to un-birthed ideas and colorless worlds, are caressed by the longing, hungry eyes of silent souls. These souls wish to press full against the purity and bleed out across the pages in a raw, timeless voice. I own an admiration for the blank slate, which so presses against the will of writing philosophies within me that, most often, my fingers refuse to mar its innocence with them. Thus, with this bleeding out of soul, I have given life to colorless, un-birthed ideas. Thus, I have labeled myself a hypocrite.
The Unsurprising Tale of Jacklyn I couldn’t believe that I was finally starting high school. I made sure to avoid orientation, as it would have been very difficult to convince the staff that I was not masculine after an initial meeting. So, I dropped in unannounced, dressed and perked up in a way that was unsuspecting.
I tried my best to make sure that I was not caught, and when I returned home I discarded my form instantaneously to make sure my parents didn’t see. For if they knew what I was doing, I was sure to live in the streets over by the ditch on the road to the supercenter like all the burnt out junkies. I did feel sorry for them, having to walk around all day in the sun and then sleep in a ditch or under some other person’s porch.
I was able to get with the other girls’ sports programs almost flawlessly. And within the first week, I was already making a small name for myself in the girls’ basketball team. Playing wasn’t the hardest
Generalized Anxiety DisorderH met a woman at the bar. H liked the woman at the bar so he missed the last train for her. They drank mojitos. The woman at the bar talked about the interconnectedness between the universe and all of the objects within it etc.
The woman at the bar invited H back to her apartment. The apartment was very chillin. The woman had a terrarium of Macaqs in the middle of her apartment. H said “your monkeys are very pretty” and the woman said thank you.
H and the woman made out.
Then, they took off their clothes. It was when they disrobed that H noticed something very weird.
“Where in the wide world of sports are your nipples?” H said. The woman indeed had 2 breasts, but 0 nipples. This woman was a freak of nature.
“Fuck,” said H. “Are you a man?”
The woman laughed a high, feminine laugh. “Wait,” she said, “you mean you didn’t know what all happ
IndependenceIf you shoot me
Nothing will change
Despite your attempts
Each moment is mine
Perhaps you will feel better
Every time you contain our actions
Nothing can stop us
Death is a favor
Even if it's early
Never think you won
Certain people will live forever
Everlasting and perfect
No sooner had the door closed softly than the sky opened frenzied and demanding.
As if to echo relief; as if to echo wanting; as if to let loose remaining words left impatient and electrified in the air. The fire and light that assaulted the senses was accompanied by – too quickly and too out of any semblance of pace – an imposing boom that set the world trembling. And it left us at once recognized and cowering.
Lost within the tantrums of the heavens and the careless flood of referenced duality - a black bird sat,
wanting nothing more than the freedom of wings and the quarter of open air innate of its being, patiently, until I gave turn to notice. He, in a space barely holding his shape at the window sill, likely neither the most easily discovered nor gentle location, found what was needed and of relative comfort for the time. As the winds and rains raged, he pushed himself against the glass, seeking that small, random, by-chanced place of safety. I was honored and hoped i
Just a Little Jetski Ride It's a feeling like no other. The adrenaline, the excitement, the absolute freedom. I forget to be worried about every little thing; I forget my problems. I forget about friends, family, and acquaintances. It's only me, gliding across the water at impossible speeds, and the wind attacking my eyes, ears, and hair.
But, I don't care about that. All I care about is the freedom. Free from the thoughts of others. Free from responsibilities. Free from stress.
I'm soaring! Flying high above the dark clouds of negativity, forever bathed in the light of happiness. I've no need to find the occasional burst of sun peeking through the dark mass over my head. The storm clouds cleared away and left a rainbow of positivity in it's wake.
Even as Shane slows down to bring us ashore, the rainbow stays. The assortment of colors radiates through my body, taking over me.
Beautiful. Bright. Happy. And most of all, free.
Storm The badlands are nothing compared to that of an irreversible agony, constantly eating away at lingering hope until nothing is left.
A vast land was set before my very own feet, a land that has yet to be kissed by the rain. All those who entered went into a storm, vast to never be found, forgotten into the world. Yet something tugs at me, pushing me into the dark unknown.
Maybe its because of my greed, my desire to not live in vain, and to emerge as a victor and laugh at fate's will.
Perhaps what drives me is pure stupidity, to believe that I can bear such a tremendous amount of pressure and continue walking, to underestimate one's wrath, and learn to stand.
I don't know.
There is no desire in me to run in there screaming a battle cry, and nothing in me to turn around and run towards safety.
I don't have encouragement, tenacit
the outcastsHe stood there... Watching them pass by ignoreing him as always. Never noticing him, never talking to him and when they do it was always words of hate, and he took it. He took it everyday this kind of abuse. For he was always an outcast. Always in the dark, always ignore. Even though inside he was an angel he can never show that side. For he was demonized everywhere he went. Feeling the scars in his heart as they hurt as bad as those on his back he continue to walk his lonely path that he never ask for. That he never wanted. But he kept on living for he knew one day he will be needed somewhere no matter if this world wanted it or not he will do it and today was that day. As he walked he saw a girl about his age who look a little scared. Coming to her he said hi but instead of running like most will do she replied with her own greeting for she was also a outcast against her will because she made the right choice. Both look past the false labeling that others Gave them and saw there true
unanchorageWhen I write,
I slip into a damp nothingness, vaguely
and shuffling through a smoggy coma,
shedding the individuality
anchoring me to
It's an abandon of the consensual mind that
an escape in to the symmetrical mess of this planet.
I am not my own,
it is only here where I find
buried inbetween my lungs,
and my heart.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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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