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day 17she dreams of the pink swing set under a canopy
of leaves, shoes brushing colours of autumn
of mud slicked steps, rusted spoons and clear
plastic forks turned opaque from grimy hands
of lard-filled jars and broken glass,
glittering teeth hidden beneath tree shadows
of scratchy hay poking ankles and, below, sharp
metal just peeking through faded itchy yellow:
day 3you said: there is just
something about myths.
i thought there's just
something about your lips.
tell me the myths of
your sleepy hometown
and the truths of hands
held proud in public.
i'd like to learn the
stories of your skin,
the loud silence of
heartbeats and bed sheets.
you don't sit beside me in class anymoreyou look like oversized sweaters waiting for
mr darcy vapid vanilla shows up late to
class with coffee cheeks flushed from cold
(but there's more than meets the eye. i like
the flush of your cheeks and last week i
wondered if you bite lips or lick them; if
you'd change my mind on holding hands)
gone is your floral perfume soft breathing
arm brushing mine proximity pulsing legs
crossing blurry profile in peripheral
(but now i almost like it better this way. it's
easier to follow concentration as it moves
along your features and i have always been
more comfortable with distance anyway)
lost in space1
there were words once, listen:
quiet, soft, like fingers brushing over the fabric of a sweater, tickling your ear, warming, small gusts of heat that spread to your toes, a glinting eye, a curved mouth, a promise.
there were words once, listen:
hard, rough, like metal scraping over concrete, bruising, marking your arms, legs, ribs, even your spine, purple and black blossoming on dark skin, yellowing until silence, an apology.
there were words once, listen:
now there are no words, only the deafening roar of silence.
there are words now, listen:
the old stars whisper to each other. they have discovered the secret of patience, a conversation lasting the ages. a single word may take years upon years to travel and you have to know which way to send it. careful, precise, or you may tell a stranger you miss them.
you can hear the sound of these words, like fast cars on a track, restless and enduring. the faster they travel, the slower time moves, slowing rapidly until it sto
sharp nailsthere is a pattern of
veins on my right thigh
that looks like the long,
blue bones of a hand
sometimes these thin,
spindly fingers crawl
up my veins and
arteries to clasp around
my heart, tug on the
back of my eyes,
dotting and blacking
they scrape the nervous
system and i think i
used to pray to settle
from 3429 ft.two years ago from paris, saskatoon looked like a small solar system, hazy with rain and cold. three days ago from toronto, it is midday and foggy, a thick blanket of grey masking tiny grey buildings cut by a tiny grey river. but the feeling is the same and i want to reach across the aisle to hold my sister's hand much the same as two years ago, russell reaching for my hand, any hand, two changed souls unprepared to face the sameness of home.
but the feeling is not the same. we are not two changed souls: we are just happy ones, 'satisfied with the trip' ones, and i do not hold hands when i am happy.
may 3i press tissue paper to the skin
above my ankle, apply pressure,
try not to think about the red and
searing and the itch in my hand.
i decide i want to cover my body in
ink, beautiful and expensive.
my grandmother asks me why i
want a tattoo.
i tell her, "i think they're
five years of thinking pass.
birds fly across my wrist and i trap
beautiful and expensive.
reverberationshey skinny boy, you walk like you know where you're going
and when you kiss me, i don't know what to say
( and it sort of
reverberates between us, doesn't it? )
parenting 101when our children wake up screaming in the middle of the night
or crawl into our beds, we have a list of reassurances:
"it was just a nightmare" and
"it was just the shadows" and
"it was just your imagination"
until they, too, are desensitized and locked in a cage,
condition themselves to be blind and sane like the rest of us
Guiltywe sit in the pale half-light; summer dies around us. you reach over and pluck the cigarette from my fingers, inhale like it's the last time. and maybe it is.
the jury is out there somewhere, preparing to sleep on their choice. we both know that you may not come home tomorrow, but neither of us are willing to say it out loud.
smoke curls in the air between us; I pretend not to notice when your body begins to tremble. when you begin to cry, I tell myself you've rubbed ash into your eye.
ArminxBespectecled! ReaderHis ocean blue eyes stared at the girl, in un-withheld curiosity and admiration, from across the room. Her (E/C) shone bright and passionate like candles in the dead of night behind her large glasses, her (h/l) (h/c) swayed slightly as she sat down on the worn library couch, a heavy stack of books in her small and petite hand's. He couldn't help but find himself entranced by the way she gracefully set the dusty, leather bound books onto the oak wood table in front of her as if she's practiced it over and over. Her finger's, long and slender, nimbly maneuvered the books into neat piles before she chose one carefully to examine, a look of concentration gracing her face. She was beautiful. Armin honestly had no clue why so many people picked on her for having glasses.
The glasses only helped to add childish innocence to her features, highlighting her larg (e/c) eyes and making them pop and stand out as a large contrast with her (h/l) (h/c) locks. Her eyes where just gorgeous.
Two's company, three's a mistake"Alright... Now send me down the cable. Make sure the cover's still on the end so you don't get it all wet with your spit..."
"There we go, perfect. Now at least it won't be so boring in here."
The screen of a Nintendo DS flickered to life, illuminating the space surrounding it. A pudgy-hipped blonde girl with glasses sat cross-legged inside what was unmistakably someone's stomach, stylus between her lips as she focused intently on her video game. This was Chelsea, who, weeks ago, had been swallowed whole by the dorky stoner girl who sat in the back of her Calculus class and doodled in her notebook margins.
Now, in the warmth of June, she was sitting in that same stoner girl's stomach, a blush on her face as she tried to ignore the nagging feeling of excitement she'd been working on forgetting about for a while now. She managed to keep her attention on the game and off of her temporary captor's warm stomach - and outside the bloated belly, its owner belched rudely and cove
the sky's soothsayer.“the stars are the souls of our fallen ancestries,”
my youngest sister would insist.
“look,” she pointed with her gloved hand.
“it’s mumma and papa, floating up there in the sky!”
she giggled, falling to her knees with her gloved hand to the sky,
blue eyes bright and curtained by blond locks.
the timepiece upon my wrist was blue
with the nasty british weather and the bleeding
blue ink from my calligraphy pen.
i held in my hands my wanderings of the sky, all recorded in a single notebook.
“what a waste,” i mumbled, a shiver rolling down my spine. “such violent weather,”
i coughed into my handkerchief and tried to assess the stars once again.
my mouth twisted into a scowl as my vision was obstructed
by the tongues of blackened clouds,
angry and full of disgust.
it was growing awfully late and
it didn’t seem the sky was going to clear anytime soon.
march was the month, so the rains were expected,
but i su
Peace RestoredIn the cities they were beginning to tally the cost of victory, gained at last after years of destructive struggle.
Surveyors were already appraising the mutilated buildings, Managers were directing the necessary demolition of building shells that remained precariously upright. Gangs of the brawnier survivors were using rubble to fill the pot-holes in the roads. Some of the labourers working had been drafted in,part of the first deployment of troops awaiting demobilisation now part of the Army Of Reconstruction.
From the city council down, everyone was eager to erase the evidence of a madness, a grotesque mutual insanity that had laid waste to the civilisation of a continent, spawning numberless tribes of orphans.
There were reunions. Grizzled men, who had been living on time borrowed at they knew not what rate of interest, were beginning to return, seeking information about the survivors of their clans and families .These men, who had played their part in the destruction of thei
...:::Valentine Problems:::...It was the day before Valentine’s day when a pink hedgehog had to look everywhere for someone she had loved ever since they were little. Her shoulder-length hair carried by the wind every time she ran, her emerald eyes sparkle when she thought that she found him and would gloom when it was not him. She sighed in defeat as she slumped down on the bench she found in the park. It wasn’t fair! It’s almost Valentine’s day, she need to find where he is! She, Amy Rose, couldn’t fail!
For the past years together with the gang, she wanted this Valentines to be special, no matter what consequences are there. Everything is set, all she need is her soon-to-be Valentine.
“Oh! Sonic!” She groaned desperately. “Why must you always run away from me! I finally changed okay?! I’m not the pro fan girl you always thought I am.”
She stand up again and absently wipe her dress. About her dress, it’s finally the one that the hem wasn’t wi
the lonely sea monsterThings hadn't been the same since Marty kicked the can. Marty, an old manatee that liked to
trick sailors into believing he was a beautiful stranded woman singing sad songs, had just
dropped dead one day. They said that he choked on a fish bone, but Kassie was sure it
had been the humans.
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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