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education is for foolsListen to someone else for a change. Stop being so selfish. So they pulled the cord too soon and we're making way for a crash landing, but how many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about what's gonna happen later, and start thinking about right now? Maybe you'll land with your face in the dirt or maybe you'll land, arms out, feet first, and headstrong like all the rest. If you keep trying to fix what isn't broken, you're going to end up with more bruises than you bargained.
Well hey, you've always looked pretty with scars. Pay attention here though.
Sometimes we don't always need constant reminders of who we are. Because we change each day, and I know I'm just shoving fucked up words to make you feel alive that you won't even remember tomorrow morning, but hear me out for just one second. Your body is breaking down and you're just drowning in your own attempt to breathe. Calm down. You've got one more month to go.
Did you ever think that maybe he is suffering too? Not every
She never made it homeThere's something very fascinating about the change of wind. It doesn't brush up against her cheeks in an attempt to knock her to the cold cracked pavement, it's instead lingering around her frame and giving her a reason to push forward. All she wants is to be alone.
The lights stack up, repeatedly blinding her from the two feet that cross paths, make a path for her. The funny thing, for a situation like this where running for such a long time kills her, she feels like it's almost worth bursting her lungs. It's almost worth it if it means never looking back and never giving in.
The streetlights are lining up and lighting the way for her but all they really do is cause shadows and she's more afraid of admitting that she's frightened than she is frightened at all. Up, ahead she sees the flashing of the police come to drag her where nightmares never end and sleep is always impossible. She can't go back, she just
I don't seem to have the willOne day he woke up. And everything they had was gone. Torn to shreds, burned to crisp, and the notes were left to dust in the bookcase.
No one looks at the bookcase anymore.
This honesty, this cheer, this fucking laughter, is nothing but a hoax. Things would have gone a little farther if you weren't so dramatic. The description that blonds have more fun, well that's damn straight. Fuck that. Months have passed, days are coming, and the story is still unwritten.
I loved that sky, you know that. But there was never a kept rhythm with it. It was either raining, or bright in the eyes. Like a damn roller coaster. I've never been on a roller coaster and I sure as hell don't want to now.
It's getting harder each day to look the sun in the eyes.
Dearest darling, whoever is closest to hearing. What are we going to do with ourselves now?
So, you've done your pouting, and I've done my crying and they've all struck us with lightening. I'd rather stick around in the rain than run towards shel
fractured bonesI wish I could be beautiful instead of this fucked up mess that was left on the floor, no wait, left on the bed, only seconds before I was all taken care of. But hey, that's life, right?
It'll be a Monday morning when I wake up. Because Mondays are the days we have breaks without knowing it and the beginning of every thing. Mondays cause a lot of pain and betrayal, leaving fingerprints on popped wrists and broken eyelashes. The candles, they sway and then burn out leaving a hole in my stubborn wrist.
I'm beginning to hate this wristband.
I don't think I know what exactly is going on here. Laughter took the place of every aching bone in my body but I forgot that the musical sound only leaves me shaking in this place, which is a lot like shivering cept I'm burning in my own two charcoal converse. The ones that have the wear and tear and have writing across their walls, singing 'I miss you', 'I love you', and goodbyes that weren't rea
I seek the truthWhen I'm not running, I'm standing still. Hands at my side. Eyes forward penetrating through your skin. I bear lies, not live them.
I see through everything. That's the price I've to pay for breathing in later. It's easy to pick up on signs, and to discover everything you were hoping wasn't true is true. Sometimes, everything is true. Can't you see, what I've done to myself? I've mixed all the lies together and formed one huge story. I used to live fantasy but somehow along the way, I lost the path my feet were glued to and followed a monster into the city and saw what everyone is afraid of.
The problem here is, I'm not afraid of anything.
I become what I can't beThere's this wind, and it's all around me and I keep screaming at it to leave because I don't want it to knock me down when I've been trying so hard lately not to crash and burn. I've been trying so hard not to be left high and dry but I find that every time, I just fall and this time. This time I'll be watching and I won't even care that I'm going to break a few lullabies crashing off these fingertips because I find that when I'm breaking inside, I break for the finish line.
So, maybe it's just me and the way I write the list,
(1, 2, 3)
but I've been searching for days on how to rid this feeling away and burn away all these memories. [And we all know I'm just oh-so good at blocking this denial from my fucked up tranquility.] There's got to be some way to make it all go away, and the way I've been going for days, I've got a feeling I'll be going for years while all of them disappear and fade from my memories. I don't want to look over my shoulder and see footprints of apologetic smil
Leave me out of itIt's not that I don't care. It's just I don't have time or the strength to care. It's the heaviness that isn't in my bones or aching in my feet. The hurt is set in my throat because I've been screaming for months and the trench gets longer and deeper. After time, no one, not even I looked back.
I was thinking the other day. My back to the wall and my eyes set toward the ocean. I've never even been close enough to touch the water, and I won't today. I stare at the ripples and the waves and the way it seems so quiet that it's drowning me in its favor. Maybe it's the way I look like a statue against the sand with eyes glassy and cold. They're not withdrawn from the world. I'm not withdrawn. I'm just making my peace here, listening and not seeing. I'm just like the rest of you anyway, hating that which is ugly.
It's not that I don't care. It's that I don't car
We change as we get olderI think I may have gotten bored with boredom. After all, the constant changes through my decisions on whether to keep walking or to just sit and enjoy such view is really getting, well, empty. I can't seem to replace feelings with other things. I mean all things physical are nothing anyway. The things people want, the things they kill for are inside. Deep inside your ribcage.
I would (gently) break you.
What you have and what you want, physically I mean, aren't important. Hell, I've been sitting here for nine months lingering by people's doorsteps for a pack of sugar. It's all about patience. But those things that are hidden in stomachs full of acid, and a ribcage built to contain I can't sit here and wait. I can torture myself to ease the headaches but it all comes back eventually like the after-effect of an explosion. We are all dead inside.
And bleed, and we're doneI stared for much too long at the familiar face, but it seems that a name wouldn't appear in my head. I mean, I'd known you forever. I could feel it. But nothing in my mind would trigger where I knew you from. And you,
you just kept walking.
I can't decide where the changes are really putting me. I'm not falling anymore, that's for sure, and I'm not beating numbly against the floorboards. But I can't make the important decision of whether this is leaving me high and dry (or if I'm just kidding myself in saying this is right).
Alarm the AlarmIf I'm ordinary then honey
show me what's extra,
and push back those tears. If
crying is all you've got left,
then I'm ready to cancel my
I've done about all that I
am capable of and
darling the effort just doesn't
If I'm normal then honey
show me the ab,
'cause I'm fed up
with not being up to par
and if I'm not the man you expected
and let me know
I'm not your type and
baby I know it
'cause I've got a bad
case of the shakes,
I barely take care of
myself so how
do you expect
me to take
care of you
Forget all the nonsense
let's just try and be
if being is all we can do
then we'll let it be
and hope for the best
as we part ways
and know that in
we gave it our all
if our all wasn't
then at least it
was fun while
and if it's not
meant to last
then I'll say goodbye.
Words on A CanvasHe's not letting a moment go without notice and he's learning to trust his self, rather than living his life based on how everyone else thinks he should. She showed him how to be free and he's been living on a whim ever since. He even claims that one day he will take to the sky and conquer that which is flight, but until then he's perfectly fine walking the streets hand in hand with her.
She's stubborn as can be and so is he but for some reason it works and why try and fix something that was never broken in the first place? She has this smile that whispers to him that no matter how bad things may get, everything will be fine. There's always light at the end of the darkness and she's quickly becoming the flame to his candle.
He's never felt more vulnerable in his life than he does with her, but this time he doesn't mind that she forces him to break outside of his comfort zone because he knows she likes him, terrible flaws and all. She once told him that she never wanted to lose him and
a boy i used to knowlanky with long dark hair; i thought he was the most beautiful thing in the world and even though he denied it, i knew he was just being modest. sometimes i would let him stick his hands up my shirt and touch my ribs. he'd slide his long fingers up and down each one, reminding me of how thin i am. i often forget.
i liked it when he touched me, but that was short lived and it was already too late to tell him to stop. it was like he didn't understand the meaning of the word "no" but i could forgive it because the mistakes he made were so honest.
"what would you do if i died?" he asked.
"i would be sad," was all i said and he looked disappointed.
today his hair is short and his eyes show a change. today i realized that he is the type of boy that all the teenage girls write about and it makes me feel pathetic in more ways than one.
he's been my inspiration for too long and it's time for me to move on because he's gone.
he's been gone for a long time.
Montana, you are so beautifuli never said i'd save you.
i swore i love you's and promised you fresh kisses with every departure.
i swore i would be there, wherever there was. swore i'd care for you
and miss you when you were too far but i never said i'd save you.
you were standing on the edge, with a lit cigarette and an empty head.
you were looking at me and i was looking through you. fifteen floors high,
fifteen years since i first met you and you were standing on the edge.
i was looking right through you, right to the other side.
to the sky, to the melting horizon, to the world you once loved.
i was looking into what you once saw and you swore,
you swore you wouldn't need me to.
Pretty As A PictureRemember when I mattered? When you mattered? (Truth is, you still do and always will matter to me) When we mattered?
Now I pick away at my brain matter hoping all the memories will scatter like the ashes of a dying fire.
This isn't the 4th of July and we aren't roasting marshmallows or counting the stars in the sky but I'll take a cigarette to hold off sleep for a little longer.
I would rather flood my bloodstream with nicotine than the thick smoke at the campground and I'm afraid to find you in my dreams once again, because it's starting to take a hold of me and I'm starting to lose hold of reality.
I wanted to read a good book but decided to write one instead and I'm desperately looking for a publisher but who wants to print a story where the words have no meaning?
I'm just a bunch of random thoughts that never fit together like a puzzle missing a few pieces and my lungs are starting to collapse and I'm worried my internal organs are going to fall into a recession.
The numbers don't
We're All Dreamersi.
Her wings used to flutter until they ripped her from the sky and bound her in chains. An underwater cave is now her home and the only memories she has of flying high are the images she painfully etches onto the walls. The jellyfish mock her with their tentacles and their ability to seamlessly float through the waters and all she can do is fight to break free until the water fills her lungs and causes her to blackout. She's hoping the lights come on soon and that this is all a dream because the marks on her ankles are becoming permanent and any signs she was ever anything different are fading quicker than the high tide.
"You need to stop dreaming about the impossible. It's called the impossible for a reason."
She was 7 and she wanted to be a fairy when she grew up, but they told her she needed to stop being ridiculous and quit dreaming. They took away her coloring books and sold her Peter Pan tape because she had grown much too fond of Tinker Bell and was becoming detached from r
I Failed Biology Oncei.
I'm like a pebble being skipped across the water, a small child having a brush with the unreal. My sanity is as transparent as these words that no longer make sense and I fear I'm going to lose my balance and fall off this tightrope soon. My only hope is the jaws of a lion aren't waiting below because I've yet to tame death and I can feel it consuming my shadow and prickling my skin with goose bumps.
They used to tell me I should join a circus one day but I preferred to eat animal crackers and sip on apple juice instead. There are a thousand, no a thousand and three miles separating my lungs and their deprecation of oxygen as they've filed a formal protest, suing me for negligence because of the one time I thought it would be cool to inhale cigarette smoke. I choked it right back up and my throat was sore for weeks, like the time I went scuba diving.
I was stung by a jellyfish and let out a girlish scream only to have ocean water jet down my throat. The salt clung to my eso
this is why they tell you never to date a poetI want to be in a castle in England right now, with you, on a huge bed with a red canopy or maybe in the kitchen or the living room or the library and I want to read you poetry and feed you strawberries and something else even more unbelievably corny
I want to sit in the library in front of a fire and read you Faulkner with my striped-stockinged feet in your lap and I want you to touch them as if they were beautiful and I want it to smell like tea
and I want to lay on a bed in some sort of ridiculous lingerie and tell you that I want sex when really all I want is to drink it out of your eyes
but I don't think that's the point, I think I'm missing it somehow I think I can't think right now I think I just want you to
and right now I want to sit with your head in my lap and read you Plath or maybe Sexton or fuck, let's just go straight for Shakespeare, and I'd stroke your ears and hope you were listening
maybe I'd blaspheme a bit.. change a word or two, just to see if I had your a
I just wanted a hugToday was the very last day
Before we parted our separate ways
I began to cry, the pain was too much
Shrinking back at the slightest touch
For soon enough, we'd be at our stop
And after just one quick block
You'd go one way and me the other
Pretending indifference to the other
I started crying as you made fun of me
But not because it made me lonely
I cried because I wouldn't ever see you again
For you thought only families were never end
We got off the bus and I began to tear
Desperately trying to skip back a year
You got off and my arms ached to wrap around
But instead, I shuffled and stared on the ground
I asked for a hug and I got a denial
Rejection washed through, the taste was like bile
Yet my arms still yearned to reach and to tug
And so you heard me say: "I just wanted a hug."
girl with the almost blond hair and the deep gray eyes that only sparkle blue in July. It's December and it's cold and close to everything sucks. I guess that makes sense because December and depression both start with the letter D, and they're both pretty damn annoying.
But girl, if I keep rambling on about it all I'm going to cause things to down slide just a little more and January will take a little longer to get here.
Anyway, it's December and you're freezing inside your own skin because mother dearest promised a new home, and a new room, and a place to rest your head. Well, I'm guessing she didn't know that everything in your world is "almost" or "close" or "soon". Next week, always means six months and tomorrow always means next week. Sometimes you want mother dearest to get the hell away from the damn herbs and start picking up on her kids' habits. December wouldn't be so cold on your heart if there was so
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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