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21Spiraling to bones
this carnival ride
always brings me
back to this place.
Look at the invisible
up there riding stars
the smoke carried you away.
The body doesn't know
the mind has put stones
in pockets and walked to water.
Here is a shell
good for nothing.
Put it on a bookcase
or throw it away.
20All the voices; the people,
the sea, that's what they are.
A vein opening, they seep and slither.
This static cold after the wash of warmth.
Quickly forgotten, days of nothing.
Glass eyes and skin of wax,
sickly sweet the rotted flowers.
Lips sewn shut; no one listened anyway.
19Darkness bids them sleep
leaving the roads for myself
to move in quiet.
The light brings them forth
I wrap myself in shadow
hiding what I am.
I wait with patience
for a time when the darkness
will never retreat.
18Here is the truth written plain:
While you are asleep I lay awake beside you.
I listen to your breathing to know that you are alive.
Let me go first.
Here is the truth written plain:
I don't believe in the supernatural but I have made you my god.
You are the reason I stay when I could easily go.
This world is not for me.
Here is the truth written plain:
I'm not much at all and I know it full well
But I feel the arms of Death and I haven't felt Life in years.
You can do no wrong.
I've lost time.I've lost time. I have no idea where I misplaced it. Maybe there was a hole in one of my pockets that day and it fell out while I was busy dreaming of the future or dwelling in the past.
I didn't even notice I had lost it until one day I looked for it and found a calendar of nothing. I even walked all the way through the forest of memory to the station at the very end and I asked the old man with the pocket-watch if he could look through the lost and found. He told me it was gone forever but he gave me a ticket to board the steam engine so I wouldn't have to walk back in the rain.
On the way back I watched the shadows of my life through the foggy window. I should have just walked in the damn rain.
His name was her name
And her name was his name.
Two rivers emptied into the same basin
And can you tell the waters apart?
You can't take one, leaving the other
And expect the other not to follow the one.
She carried the embers into the house
And didn't wake up again.
16The moon renders a highway
As the trees paint the spectre,
You sit with a stillness — unnatural;
You listen for the twigs to snap.
My pulse is a bird straining
Against a cage of flesh.
Watch Me Persevere [contest submission]When an ocean of sadness threatened to drown her
And she really thought it would have been easier
To just sink into the deep, she gave herself the
Chance to swim. Even though she was tired, she
Headed towards the shore.
Making footprints in the sand, she wondered if this was far enough.
Even though she was still tired, she decided to go on.
Pacing herself, she moved through the years,
Eventually learning that each step was a triumph. She found that her
Reservoir of strength was much deeper than the ocean -
Stretched further than the shore.
Every step brought her closer to herself, to the
Very essence of her humanity.
Even though her journey is not complete, she
Rests now, knowing that she is
Everything she needs.
15Roads everywhere, serpents sprawling,
Endlessly beckoning. We must not be
Stagnant; ripple, flow, move.
Take up the luggage or
Leave it to rot.
House of sediment -
Endless blankets of rest
Embrace you then. There is
No need to fear a wrong turn, the
Destination is the same, no matter the road.
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
SightStars in the night sky
I see beyond that and through
Greatness into darkness, I can fly
Here above the earth I can see the truth
There is an angel that will love me until I die
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
jackal grinMy orange peel
lips split: the beams
a deck of cards
nana’s worn porch,
and fingers weaving
through grass blades
when the light is
soft and warm.
(have you f
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
11I have placed you, frozen, away;
Where time is of no consequence.
Do you not see the pains I've taken
To remember you as you were?
I've boiled the universe down -
I've torn my hair and mended shrouds.
How long should I scream your name,
Knowing you will not answer?
I've traversed the roughest of seas
And each shore, I have found lacking.
Have you ruined me completely?
Can the calm not suffice?
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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