Been ItI've tried to educate your childish heart.
Made your bed
and I was in it when your faith was dead.
Poor donee
what are you gonna try to be?
Where are you gonna go with out me now?"
Newest
FoldsWrapped in the stale comfort of this room The gray weather outside does little to draw me out. How could I leave When so much of what is here tastes like the salty familiarity Of my own body? But silently I hate the quiet air, The pulse of my own worthless heart and the Beastly passing of time that will notFolds
Ask me out of here. Hearing the world and smelling her sweet, Wet mouth, I am jealous to hear But scared to take Any of her ridiculous offers.
by ~infracta
Circa ForeverI see her now by the comfort of her fine linen shirt. Above it, some twenty tender years and aCirca Forever
Cheery cheek, Peeking above worlds of innocent thought.
But one glance tells a further tale of the life she
Has yet to lead: A woman aged by the passage from Father to Husband- A world with glazy eyes, fancy liquor, And rouged cheeks, under which youth has little consequence.
A plead to set sail: The path is well worn. But her eyes choose not to
Look forward or back
by ~infracta
ContigoShadows cast the last of the pink sun’s rays to tomorrow. Another golden opportunity laid to waste in an abandoned slumber. Sleep-filled eyes from an unused bed stare desperately through the ceiling;Contigo
Notions of desire pulsate out through the sheets fading to the floor as there is nothing to reflect them.
Broken dinner tables, empty bottles; the spot by the door where the small shoes once accompanied the big. The unused, unoccupied memories replaced repetitiously.
The day’s end brings another night’s sleep. Haunted by happy dreams, contrast
by ~infracta
Favourites
Timeby ~Somnambulist911
by ~mybitch
Not a MonolithI am a wolf who wears these streets thin and silently graceful in choked lights.Not a Monolith
Insects march the road in crooked rows; the moon draws a canvas of their fears.
I was six-legged prey only yesterday, barren then, playing chess with the cold.
Fever stalked me: stubby legs, five-foot-four and bald; I measured it pacing in my wake.
Tied to a rough grass bed between sliding walls, silk writhing against wrists, yet a destitute. Leaves sigh ballads to my feet I dance the asphalt red, dance until it cracks.
I am a released, re-carved story to be
by `krissie
deviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: California
- Favourite movie: the royal tenenbaums, pulp fiction, my cousin vinny, edward sissorhands
- Favourite band or musician: the faint, murder city devils, the D, at the drive in
- Favourite poet or writer: James Joyce
- Tools of the Trade: baristas
deviantART Community Board
Comments
Site Map
©2009 deviantART. All rights reserved
--
All sapient beings evade what evolution shaped [them] for. --Larry Niven
My words seemed to have dried up too.. anything i write just dosnt sound like it feels anymore so i think i'll just paint instead now.
I hope you find your inspiration back, your writing is so real.
--
b o w d o w n t o t h e o l d p e o p l e i n s u i t s
xXx
<3
--
b o w d o w n t o t h e o l d p e o p l e i n s u i t s
xXx
Previous Page12345...Next Page