Marm had sun-dried sandpaper skin that Rett swore would crinkle if he ran a hand over it. She would bundle the rolls into the edges of her generous one piece, sticking an orange leather hand far enough up the crotch that he suspected she could have mapped out her entire genital region had she so desired (cringe), and with the other hand would offer up flaps to be rearranged. Then with total disregard for her former gaffe- and sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if she didn't remember- Marm would unabashedly waddle up to him and hook her arm in his to continue strolling down the beach as if nothing had come to pass, her fat all the
Have you seen the cherry blossoms? by KittyKatKool, literature
Literature
Have you seen the cherry blossoms?
Have you seen the cherry blossoms?
Sakura, sake, parasol,
blissfully love-maddening pink
like the Parisian poodles
Dyed in fiery famous shades
Of reveling red
Lipstick-lovely
She's ostentatious and outrageous
And utterly contagious,
But best of all she's mine and
We revel as one.
Winter winds carry serenity,
Casting a glaze over the world,
And late flowers freeze,
Petals shivering under glittering frost,
Crisp sky suspended in frozen calm,
The last bloom slowly closes drooping lilting eyelids,
Asleep and getting colder,
Dreaming final dreams of spring.
When Zephyr tucks me in tonight
He brings sleepdust.
His charges he totes on crooked back- tragic,
Bent double like Santa Claus,
Bearing madness and magic.
Warped teeth, jagged grin.
Says I have to let him in
Facing the faded world,
I juggle reality and at the drop of a pin-
Let it go.
It begins.
I sigh.
Listlessly, I scan the jury
And plead, apologize,
In these answers that surely lie.
Know that I am fading...
fading away,
on the baleful wind I fly.
The licking flames of a library on fire
Knowledge gone to crumbling ash,
Shallow glances then crisp goodbye,
For I am fading....
fading away,
to sizzle out, die.
I am cultured, prepared,
I ha
They say that insanity does not recognize
its reflection when it looks in the mirror.
Unfair, then, that I should recognize mine.
For I am irreconcilably insane.
Curse of the writer who thought too far.
And the realization
That I alone shall wear these scars-
Hide your faces, children, for I am insane.
I am insane- I must be restrained.
I face the faded world,
And wonder if I could break reality
With the drop of a pin,
The death of an ant,
A rip in a scarf.
And I'll let it in.
I'll let it in.
But where did your honey go?
Oh, she's off to end the world today,
After putting the kettle on to boil.
It could be the holes in the
Don't Seek The Shadows by KittyKatKool, literature
Literature
Don't Seek The Shadows
Those writers who court darkness like a fickle lover,
Who think they can hold sadness in the palms of their hands,
Who try to coax the shadows into the light-
Don't try, child, for you know nothing of the evil in this world.
They will find you, the shadows in the corner of your soul.
And seeping up like dank air from swampy ground,
They will overwhelm you,
Taking with them all you thought you knew.
When you sit down to meet your maker over a cup of tea,
And tell your children to go for a walk- you'll only be a minute,
Staring at the sky and wondering how the clouds can still move on-
Then we can talk, and I will listen as you close
I am afraid of the air I breathe and the ground I tread, and each step draws from me energy I don't have. Someday I may collapse from the weight of the emotions that dangle like charms from the shackles around my wrists.
I keep my pockets tucked in and my collar neat, and smile when I walk out the door, because I know that the people who see me will not hesitate to hurt someone weak.
I once considered cutting, had a razor blade with a bit of tape coiled round the end, but knew that it was addictive and didn't want to to be sucked into a different type of sadness. It is too much like buying a new pair of shoes, these attempts that I slip o
I find those girls who fawn over their boyfriends weak. I'm not ready to bring someone into my life like that, have someone who cares for me and themselves, who wants from me love and a receptacle for love.
I am not a pretty chalice. I know that I have a womb, but also a head, and if you give me your love I might hold it for you, take care of it for a bit if you need someone to babysit it, but I cannot work upon it magic. I don't pull affection from thin air like a party trick, and am not equipped to love a man because he wants me. I can quicken babies and bleed from a cavern in my belly that is told it wants a man to make it better, to p
A grown-up in a child's clothes,
A thought that's waiting at the door,
A playroom full of worn-out toys,
A voice that whispers, "More."
What will simple sadness bring tonight,
To fill up stockings laid by the fire,
Give me life or give me wings,
Fulfill a wish fueled by desire.
She'll ask for lips that cannot sing,
And twisted limbs,
And broken things,
For in them she sees a creature trapped,
What once glimmered,
That reminds her of the past.
Inches add on to her height,
And she fills out fully,
Trapped in the night,
For inside lives only a child.
Cut the red thread, darling,
The one that binds me to this wretched world
A poem for the shadows,
And the shadows that bind me,
And the shadows that break me,
And the shadows that find me,
And the shadows that save me,
And the shadows that stitch me,
And the shadows that hurt me,
And the shadows that ail me,
And the shadows that I know love me.
For a shadow that once
Lived happy and free,
For a shadow that once
Used to be me,
For a shadow of the shadow of the shadow I cast,
I memorize.
I memorialize.
Just an idea, a shadow long past.
A poem for the shadows,
And the shadows' friends,
And the children,
And the grandmas,
And the ones we defend,
And the tormentors,
And the healers,
Marm had sun-dried sandpaper skin that Rett swore would crinkle if he ran a hand over it. She would bundle the rolls into the edges of her generous one piece, sticking an orange leather hand far enough up the crotch that he suspected she could have mapped out her entire genital region had she so desired (cringe), and with the other hand would offer up flaps to be rearranged. Then with total disregard for her former gaffe- and sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if she didn't remember- Marm would unabashedly waddle up to him and hook her arm in his to continue strolling down the beach as if nothing had come to pass, her fat all the
Have you seen the cherry blossoms? by KittyKatKool, literature
Literature
Have you seen the cherry blossoms?
Have you seen the cherry blossoms?
Sakura, sake, parasol,
blissfully love-maddening pink
like the Parisian poodles
Dyed in fiery famous shades
Of reveling red
Lipstick-lovely
She's ostentatious and outrageous
And utterly contagious,
But best of all she's mine and
We revel as one.
Winter winds carry serenity,
Casting a glaze over the world,
And late flowers freeze,
Petals shivering under glittering frost,
Crisp sky suspended in frozen calm,
The last bloom slowly closes drooping lilting eyelids,
Asleep and getting colder,
Dreaming final dreams of spring.
When Zephyr tucks me in tonight
He brings sleepdust.
His charges he totes on crooked back- tragic,
Bent double like Santa Claus,
Bearing madness and magic.
Warped teeth, jagged grin.
Says I have to let him in
Facing the faded world,
I juggle reality and at the drop of a pin-
Let it go.
It begins.
I sigh.
Listlessly, I scan the jury
And plead, apologize,
In these answers that surely lie.
Know that I am fading...
fading away,
on the baleful wind I fly.
The licking flames of a library on fire
Knowledge gone to crumbling ash,
Shallow glances then crisp goodbye,
For I am fading....
fading away,
to sizzle out, die.
I am cultured, prepared,
I ha
They say that insanity does not recognize
its reflection when it looks in the mirror.
Unfair, then, that I should recognize mine.
For I am irreconcilably insane.
Curse of the writer who thought too far.
And the realization
That I alone shall wear these scars-
Hide your faces, children, for I am insane.
I am insane- I must be restrained.
I face the faded world,
And wonder if I could break reality
With the drop of a pin,
The death of an ant,
A rip in a scarf.
And I'll let it in.
I'll let it in.
But where did your honey go?
Oh, she's off to end the world today,
After putting the kettle on to boil.
It could be the holes in the
Don't Seek The Shadows by KittyKatKool, literature
Literature
Don't Seek The Shadows
Those writers who court darkness like a fickle lover,
Who think they can hold sadness in the palms of their hands,
Who try to coax the shadows into the light-
Don't try, child, for you know nothing of the evil in this world.
They will find you, the shadows in the corner of your soul.
And seeping up like dank air from swampy ground,
They will overwhelm you,
Taking with them all you thought you knew.
When you sit down to meet your maker over a cup of tea,
And tell your children to go for a walk- you'll only be a minute,
Staring at the sky and wondering how the clouds can still move on-
Then we can talk, and I will listen as you close
I am afraid of the air I breathe and the ground I tread, and each step draws from me energy I don't have. Someday I may collapse from the weight of the emotions that dangle like charms from the shackles around my wrists.
I keep my pockets tucked in and my collar neat, and smile when I walk out the door, because I know that the people who see me will not hesitate to hurt someone weak.
I once considered cutting, had a razor blade with a bit of tape coiled round the end, but knew that it was addictive and didn't want to to be sucked into a different type of sadness. It is too much like buying a new pair of shoes, these attempts that I slip o
I find those girls who fawn over their boyfriends weak. I'm not ready to bring someone into my life like that, have someone who cares for me and themselves, who wants from me love and a receptacle for love.
I am not a pretty chalice. I know that I have a womb, but also a head, and if you give me your love I might hold it for you, take care of it for a bit if you need someone to babysit it, but I cannot work upon it magic. I don't pull affection from thin air like a party trick, and am not equipped to love a man because he wants me. I can quicken babies and bleed from a cavern in my belly that is told it wants a man to make it better, to p
A grown-up in a child's clothes,
A thought that's waiting at the door,
A playroom full of worn-out toys,
A voice that whispers, "More."
What will simple sadness bring tonight,
To fill up stockings laid by the fire,
Give me life or give me wings,
Fulfill a wish fueled by desire.
She'll ask for lips that cannot sing,
And twisted limbs,
And broken things,
For in them she sees a creature trapped,
What once glimmered,
That reminds her of the past.
Inches add on to her height,
And she fills out fully,
Trapped in the night,
For inside lives only a child.
Cut the red thread, darling,
The one that binds me to this wretched world
A poem for the shadows,
And the shadows that bind me,
And the shadows that break me,
And the shadows that find me,
And the shadows that save me,
And the shadows that stitch me,
And the shadows that hurt me,
And the shadows that ail me,
And the shadows that I know love me.
For a shadow that once
Lived happy and free,
For a shadow that once
Used to be me,
For a shadow of the shadow of the shadow I cast,
I memorize.
I memorialize.
Just an idea, a shadow long past.
A poem for the shadows,
And the shadows' friends,
And the children,
And the grandmas,
And the ones we defend,
And the tormentors,
And the healers,
She had dark clouds by Abraham-Alghanem, literature
Literature
She had dark clouds
She had dark clouds in her eyes' skies
Things weren't going well
She had that sadness in her face that I couldn't comprehend
Things were bad, and I could tell
Her hands were shaking
She had a smile on her face
But her tears were breaking
It wasn't something I could deal with
It was something really big
I couldn't do anything to heal it
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked her
And with her left thumb wiping her tears
She said "Don't worry, it's just a twig."
I think when life takes the ones we love
We die
And I think that if things were easy and simple
We might try
To live on and be happy again
But not her. She is not the same
this is called Help.
they said accept it twice a day
between thoughts like autumn
[whirlwind, & passing ideas]
mom names it Smiles, she
called it Solution. you-
you don't know, it tastes
like Change. a reek
of Dependence, of
things that rot.
Warning: may cause;
delusions of normalcy;
nervous hands- that shake
when you swallow;
meetings on that corner of
insanity. A boy will call you
normal.
Continue until otherwise
recommended, i.e.,
saved.
or until hair smells of smoke:
sign of a mind that burns.
they say you have sad eyes.
once i asked you your favourite
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.
-
sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.
i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.
"why do you lie to everyone?" you
ask.
"why not?" i reply.
-
i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someon
A ray of light
A ray of hope
Maybe in your dark room
But certaintly not mine.
Unlike yours
My dark room has no door,
No window, and no light
You see
While you only spend a little time
In your dark room
I spend my whole life in mine
So you think your little dark room is bad
At least you can escape from it
But unlike you I have no way
OUT!!!
So leave me be in my little
Dark room
Let me live my life to
Insanity
Because insanity is the only thing that can save me
From my little
Dark Room.
My brother used to get mad when I cried. We would sit in the blue and mock-wood paneled station wagon, no key in the ignition, just two bodies ready to lay our feet on the pedal. T's spine was straight and hot against the back of the driver's seat, his body creased at the hip and knee. He gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Sometimes he would fumble with the radio, and I would turn my head away, looking to the contents of the garage. We never did take that car out.
We would lie hip to hip in the grass behind the baseball field and strain our necks to look past the tops of the trees at the stars. T knew all the
Yup. I've been tagged by !Eeffie (https://www.deviantart.com/eeffie).
Now I need to say ten things about myself and tag ten other people.
Here goes:
1) I'm bi. Only a few people on dA and my family know (no matter what horrible things they do, this at least they've kept a secret), so I guess I'm still in the closet. Surprise!
Nobody in my real life knows, not even my boyfriend. I don't think anyone suspects, either, because I'm barbie-straight (yes, that line was stolen from Imagine Me and You). I'm not one of those girls who is bi for attention, either, because duh, I'm still in the closet, but also because I appreciate the female form more than its male
Need. Human. Contact.
But I guess the handy dandy old journal 'll have to do.
I have writer's block.
It's annoying.
And it doesn't mean I can't write right now- quite the contrary. I can write as much as I want, and when I have writer's block I need to, but all I manage to do is spew out meaningless crap.
Someone give me a theme. Any theme. I'll write a really awful little story or poem for you. Or just comment and say Hi.
That was pretty pathetic. It's not like me, you know. I don't need much to keep me going. In reality, I have such a perfect life that it's boring sometimes. And that's when I turn to reading and writing and