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Baby Dream in CellophaneI dream in Cellophane.
My world and yours so close, if I press against this invisible rift between us I can feel your warmth against my fingertips, but I cannot feel your skin. If I close my eyes and remember its almost like you're here. But when I open them I find myself wrapped in my covers, naked and alone, cold; the heat from your body has faded by then, from your side of the bed, though the smell of your skin lingers on the pillow.
I dream in Cellophane.
Memories perfectly preserved, wrapped so carefully and set to chill so they wont spoil; the heat of them, the passion they contain so overwhelming it might soil my thoughts of you in your silent perfection.
I dream in Cellophane.
You never speak in my dreams. Or if you do I can't hear you, your mouth, my ears, wrapped in this thin sheet of plastic, holding everything at bay, the perfect arms length away.
Shattered Glass Like StarsI am ash in the wind
And I am shattered glass
Once a burning flame,
A smoldering ember;
I became less.
Now I am
Pieces of something
I cannot name any more;
Scattered on a breeze
Shards of dying light.
A forgotten life
All burned to ruins in your eyes.
Better left where they've gathered
In drifts and ebbs
On the edges of our minds.
Morning AfterEverything seemed to pulse vaguely for her, wavering mildly at the edges of her vision in an almost soothing way. Her body felt like the ocean, her head a marry-go-round, and all of her ached for him and his deepness. She would lay on the deck and laugh as the fireflies danced, unable to stop, lucid, but not in control anymore. She would giggle and turn her head to him and smile unabashedly and he would eat it up, he was her wolf, and she was straying too far from the path.
She would relax her muscles, not realizing how bound they had been for so long, or how good they felt when released, she wouldn't care to notice. She would find her confidence and her bravery and she would learn to be forward and brash and take what she wants from life. She would smirk a hungry little smirk and she would cover him, consume him, wrack him hard and then collapse with him.
But in the morning, she will surface, clear headed, the pulsing ocean-body long settled into twisting muscle and bone and blood. Sh
She Left Her NameIf I could I would run through life naked and laughing.
I would wear nothing but an extra large t-shirt, so white and thin you can see through it, and I would run from the tops of mountains across the wind and the ocean and I would see everything. I would leave my name behind.
I would be just like that girl Sally from the play I read in high school.
Because I can't be like you, or like my mother, or my father, and I'm scared of the people I've fallen in love with. Sometimes I don't want this life anymore, and that's ok. Sometimes I pocket things I shouldn't, just because I can, and I wanted to. Sometimes I go rushing down the path just to turn ninety degrees east at breakneck speeds to see if I can find a different way there.
I can't live life with a plan. That would be so disappointing, because I know that in the grand scheme of things, my plans mean nothing to anyone or anything. What matters are the images and the ideas and the people and the memories that have stuck with me through
BetrayalIf Your lies are the poison
And our friendship the water
Its no wonder I was the only one drinking from the well.
Deja VuYou tell me that "Work is slow, and its leaving me too much time to reflect on life" through a text. The smile that had slipped across my lips when i saw your name labeling my new text message drops like a hot pot from a scorched hand, its clangs, ringing dully in my lower stomach. These are the things you said to me before you walked out the door. Before I stopped you, sobbing at the bottom of the stairs begging to know why. Before I ran barefoot into the street without looking. I don't want to do this again.
Blinded YouLast night I sat wondering if you really wanted me next to you. You've been so quiet, so distant lately and I know its my fault, my failure. If only I could give up my self-doubt and my fear and my jealousy. If only I knew how to trust the only person who's proven they deserve it.
Instead I sit silently, eyes wide with the panicky lopping of my heart, feeling the void between us growing, knowing I can stop it, knowing I can close the gap again if I just figured out how. Knowing that even though you would never say it, you would rather me be home alone, sleeping fitfully in our big cold bed because it hurts you too much to think I don't trust you.
But you don't see me when I get lost in you. When I catch myself staring at the lines of your face, blushing with affection as I take in your smile. My beautiful boy I love you more than you know. More than you could ever see, and you don't see me at all.
Ugly Girls and Lonely BoysSo I heard you like the beautiful girls well I know
The ones with the legs that get their hair to flow
Softly and teasing men with perfection
It means girls like me don't get mentioned
Lonely boys write lonely words about perfect girls
And lonely girls watch their lonely boys love perfect girls
And just let me tell you, under this ugly chest
An ugly heart is breaking because you followed the rest
I'm Even More Homeless NowTrigger warnings for: homophobia, depression, anorexia, self-harm, suicide
My home was Venezuela. Forget what you've been told about the gorgeous coastlines, about the angelic waterfall, about the snow-peaked mountains. Those were saved for rich foreigners who could afford to fly in for a few days and forget about the rest of the world theirs and mine.
But I should stop being so dramatic. The people I lived with and me, we were in the middle-class. I had no idea what that meant at the time, of course. All I knew was that the black beans were plentiful, the cheese was sweet, the meat was savoury, and there were enough cachapas to last my whole life; the mall nearby was the most beautiful, plentiful, mysterious building I'd ever find; I worked through books like a termite through wood and I loved them more than anything; everyone else was just like me; and this was the best of all possible worlds.
But I was a little stupid boy. When I was six, I was bro
"The GOP and Lesbian Porn"
"The GOP and Lesbian Porn"
by Jay Richard
There was an Election Party at the Campus Center during the 2004 Presidential Election. It started at 8:00 PM and went on until God only knows when. At the time I was in my dorm and talking to people online while following CNN and Yahoo! News. Unfortunately, everyone I knew was either busy, somewhere else, or online and about to leave.
The election was going depressingly well for Bush. I had expected that fear and ignorance would do that sort of thing. I tried not to act too depressed -- there was still California, Florida, and Ohio. I got my scarf and coat and decided to take a ten minute walk to the Campus Center for lack of anything better to do.
There were only two Atkins-friendly soda cans left by the time I arrived. It was all business majors sitting around drinking soda and talking about stuff not relating to the elections, any of the elections, in the damnedest. CNN was on the TVs there, for all the good that did. Two people seemed to a
The Alphabet Meansalways
begging the question of
endless meanings of
flighty symbols who
gesticulate to a purpose
harmless, supposedly, this language, these linguistic tricks of
jumping to and fro
keeping pace with political correctness
largely thanks to those who
move the world,
navigating meaning and
obstacles that form around and
perpetuate the errors in our
questionable assumptions about
signs/symbols/signifiers signified by abstract
truths that have no meaning,
vocalize a sound in
wanton unison, extolling
yelling, denying instability as it
zig-zags across the surface of our society
The Smell of RainAll the friends who left in Spring
Indicated that rationality was futile
And the world was a better place
Without you in it.
It is hot, but smells of thunder.
Please don't wake me. I was dreaming.
I can't remember what about,
But it had to be better than this.
The windows are open, so you can't turn on the light
And resort to writing these faded words in the dark.
It is probable that you are lonely,
But saying it aloud is as inadequate as imagination.
It seems like the right place for an interlude.
But I shouldn't think about suicide too much.
It makes the walls change colour.
It makes you seem further away.
Distance, language, emptiness and the sound of crickets lamenting.
You can see it, can't you?
The way that light clings to the skin because it has nowhere to go
And the concept of being lost aches like December.
It has to hold on to something,
To prevent it from simply being an illusion
For an audience with their eyes closed.
I used to be like you. Then I woke up.
And found that I
KidnappedI've been kidnapped.
Instead of school, I'm here
following the mailman's boots
and surveying my new land.
Inside there are dogs
and sausage pudding
and manuscripts tapping their fingers against the desk.
They're waiting for me in there.
But I've been kidnapped.
Snow. Snow stole me,
got me out, paid bail in two-foot drifts
and made me a welcome home party,
covering the leaves I forgot to rake,
decorating the fence with six-inch high powdered wigs.
I'm flattered, impressed, amazed
because even though I know what's here,
I'm seeing it all new again.
Clean and sparkling and untouched.
I know it's there, underneath,
but still, I'm glad I'm here,
There can wait. Inside can wait.
Here, above, I can dream
and imagine I am well.
running sharply from your tongue
embracing my aching heart
crushing it to dust
Evidence you created
emerging from your mouth
tears rolling down the valleys of your face
brow furrowed in desperate screaming
Appearing for all the world
as the victim of self satisfaction
your rage making almost truths
from disconnected incidents
Real world affections
rolling out of me and over you
like raindrops in the ocean.
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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