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Literature
stage fright
the edges peel off every once in a while;
i stick them back together,
press my thumbs down, say i've fixed it---
but it's peeling, fraying,
sliding apart at the seams;
the blurry edges of my vision make me nervous,
make me shake and worry
(i am marble-cut and resolute,
somehow, i'm okay with sentences like puzzle pieces
"you're not okay"
so what?)
it's addiction, you know,
"this is love"
is love
is love
is this
love?
is this love?
is this ever going to change?
my symptoms are showing
(stage directions:  clench fists and
beat holes in the floorboards;
be careful of the bones, they're thin now,
plaster dust packed in a chalky mess
too brittle to serve as framework anymore,
the knees collapse together, tired lovers
sick of swinging back and forth)
act one, scene one:
i never meant for this to happen,
"i don't love you"
cue lights---
the scenery is bleak and minimal,
the cast is laid along the floor in tombstone rows,
players for the damned,
hissing  whispered syllables
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Literature
canis lupus
"all the better to see you with"
your eyes like ankle weights enthralled her---
save the lonely girl,
put her out of her misery
with her own helium kisses
(she likes the dark, it's in her eyes and
you can show her depth---
i dare you)
the devil's in your gaze;
his fingers in your throat, he's watching
(can you feel the knuckles pressing
in your lungs?)
you're hungry---
"all the better to
slit your wrists and suck you dry"
all the better to feel your fingers
dancing with the devil's hands---
he loves how you love
the way her fingers taste in your stomach
(she walks like wolves are after her,
you know  she knows you're waiting)
don't be foolish
she walks with spiders and talks to trees,
her legs like tendrils reaching through the soil,
she knows this place---
she's heard of you and your teeth,
and her doe eyes see right through you to the
nerves sewn in your cortex,
to the scorpion-tango of instinct and survival
branded across the notches in your backbone;
she's slept in foxhol
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Literature
spider
she walks with spiders,
marching along baseboard cracks they hide their webs
in the back of her mind, the
cavity behind her throat
they bind her voice in silk
she walks in step
two by eight she knows
how they feed at night she doesn't know
how to live here,
doesn't know secrets
how to starve with class, she pretends she isn't brittle
i pretend she lives there now
she doesn't know me
doesn't know how to smile my name
peeking through the windows of her eyes,
gaps in teeth
how they shiver every day
how they shiver
all the time
how they shiver when she's cold
she's always cold,
my fingers freeze around her wrists
my palms pressed to bones stuck like bear traps
she walks with
legs like spiders,
spindles creaking across floorboards in
hush tones
carpet tacks she steps around
navigating webs she won't be caught
stuck
no
she walks with them
knows their secret goose steps
she marches with class
shedding skins
disappearing
two by eight she knows
how they feed
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Literature
blood
you're ages older than your namesake;
i hear your bones rattle in your sleep,
shaking in time with old songs
we used to sing together,
but our blood is thin,
frayed ties too tired to tether us together---
you're growing up too fast
(i never knew you,
just the salt-tracks of your tears
cutting down the lines of your faded smile)
we're not perfect, are we? do you
remember when i cried you to sleep?
we played assassin in the halls,
shooting across banisters;
we chased our folded ambition across
living-room dreamscapes,
welded to our perches, pulling triggers
(fire)
we buried our secret wars; we
only held hands in pictures,
white flags pinned to our shirt sleeves,
hearts buried with surrender
(our blood is seeping through the
frames on the walls; it's
thinner than ink, we'll be safe
if we keep it inside us)
do you remember when we
sang ourselves to sleep?
we were dissonant and proud with cracking voices;
we never knew lullabies,
just off-key harmonies
splintering their way into the bones
p
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Literature
walls
this house is made of
glass bones and windowpanes---
we're hiding in spectacle; we're
hiding our voices behind crystal sheetrock
("i can't hear you")
i can still see your fingers
skipping beats across your cheekbones
(you paint portraits with fingerprints,
pressing patterns into faces met in dreams)
you're different now,
butterfly turned silkworm with age---
faded monarch, you're no majesty
(you're made of spiders, little legs
linked and stacked---
there are cobwebs in your eyes,
you can only see in dreams)
we're hiding in vacuums and
pressure-treated walls, locked in silence like
we knew what we were doing when we
shattered
and started leading fragile lives,
shards of who we were
patching cracks in tempered floors
(we're made of glass and
shedding bones---
we sit still for fear of falling)
our lives are printed on the walls,
places where our hands have held us up,
half-remembered journeys around rooms
from before we forgot that we were leaving---
now we'll stay here, now we're trapped
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Literature
crumbled columns
mars is on his knees waving surrender,
god of war turned timid lover, he is
begging you to look away
(i can't see you like this, i can't
see you splintering---
i should have known you'd
fray at the edges)
don't say those broken words;
save your voice for lullabies
printed in history books
out of tune with comfort--
you're not happy here
i've seen broken
wildernesses struck like piano keys;
the sharp notes resonate through the
branches in my spine;
have you heard about the falling pantheon?
they tumbled through the forest leaving
us alone, we're alone, we're not strong enough for this;
you're not strong enough for this, and
i can't carry you;
save your voice:
don't call for help, there's no one there---
we're alone here
everything is black;
we used to be bright red brushed across night's canvas,
now we're helpless,
now we're running out of words, and ther's nothing left to say,
there's no one here to hear us, so
save your voice
(we can whisper with our withered tongues,
we'll remember o
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Literature
frail wings
hey icarus---
you knew you'd fail,
you had that flaw
(don't admit you were wrong,
apology's a sign of weakness)
you're stronger than that
dad had bold words,
warnings as stark and cold as
the sea sent to swallow you,
digested from legend to myth
you should have asked me
what the sky felt like;
i would have told you
stay away---
even birds only come up for a moment
(no one wants to be where they belong)
this is you spinning down in
your own twilight, little bird,
"you deserved it"
he let this happen
you weren't built to last---
you were built with knees and
made for corrosion, and i bet
you didn't know you're bones are hollow
(had you asked, you'd have known:
you weren't made for the sea,
you weren't made for the sky;
you were made of match sticks and splinters)
"don't fly too high"
you knew you would, you knew you'd fail;
there are more than just sirens out here
and you haven't earned your feathers,
so you should have asked
what the sky felt like so
you could be prepared
(i could have
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Literature
static
we are the dreams of our mothers--
your father doesn't love you
do you wonder where he is?
he thinks you're still the same,
frozen in the amber of the moment
you told him you
never wanted to see him again;
he fossilized your smile
(you're not a person anymore,
you're a keepsake)
precious heirloom, we're just waiting
for you to fall and crack
we are saplings,
roots tangled in the porch stairs
(home is where the knots won't come undone
you're stuck here
"don't leave me")
i've set fires in all the rooms, i've
tied birds together,
fingers splitting feathers like bad decisions,
picking leaves from broken wings
pointing at the sky---
i've dreamed of glass eyes sunken
in porcelain sockets
staring through me saying
"don't you want to be like me?"
i'm terrified
we are not the same--
i never learned to love you
(i'm my mother's dream
sown in the side of the road)
we are perfect like this;
you were old and bent
long before i met you
"you;re not supposed to
be so sad
until after your heart has bro
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Mature content
ode to the hipster :iconersatzinspiration:ErsatzInspiration 1 4
Literature
fear and loathing
someday we'll look back and
laugh like we used to
"remember the time----"
"no, stop, you're embarrassing me"
and you'll wave it off with a
flick of bony wrist
you'll be whole again
and i'll pretend i don't remember
did you know you were bending,
a sick sapling come untied?
i never understood you,
and the things you said were too
dead and empty and i thought you were
trying to make me laugh
(you used to do that;
you were happy a minute ago)
here's to the years and the crowds
"go ahead, i'll look for your ribcage
and catch up later"
you were perfect a minute ago,
but now you're nicotine and aspartame and
i'm crashing into stainless steel,
water-bottle waves you've made in the back seat,
wishing on the clock radio
twisting dials
tuning into my nightmares
(can you see in the space where
my eyebrows knot together,
your face is getting smaller
you're too small
there's not enough of you to love)
i can't hold you anymore,
you're a specimen, and there's too much for you
to chip away
"can you re
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Literature
don't make me say it
look, mom, no hands---
i'm riding waves like hope held high above the water,
i'm being as perfect as i can, and
it could be easier, but i'll show you the
things i can do with dust clouds and rope ladders
watch the sky, mom,
i'm written in the stars,
past the street lamps and the
fourth-of-july flashing lights
(can you see me?)
i promise not to sing like him
i've given up on music and johnny appleseed
and i'm sorry i let him trick me out of religion
but mom,
i don't want to live forever anymore
i learned my lesson
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Literature
brittle
i'm a marionette,
strings pulled off, stuck in place
(i dance for no one)
and i've atrophied from sitting still in silent protest,
just one hunger strike away from martyrdom
where i'll join legions of
fallen angels in purgatory,
each starved and folded into
an hourglass paradigm all
ribcage and pelvis bent out in a
prison-bar silhouette of skin stretched over bones,
a sallow 2x4 canvas
painted with self-loathing
and striped with denial
my will is
caged, held hostage
behind the jericho walls of my stomach
where i learned about loathing and restraint
(i am tied and tarnished by the silver lining
left so long in the distance that it's
turned blacked and frayed away
like the skin on my fingertips)
and i wish i had those
cigarette extremities sweating metabolic regrets
nicotine-stained like old fingerprints
down pretty bones held
waist-high on display
"i thought you were different---"
but i'm trying to look as plaster-cast
as i refuse to be,
so forgive me when my name is printed in
the same
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Literature
to the sixth
here lies
an only son chasing dragons
with swords too small to scratch attacks
into fire-hardened scales,
forged steel made for slaying veins,
crafted for a toy soldier, wound and marching,
peeling paint from plastic fingers
saluting in vain
here lies mediocrity---
a bundle of stitches
pulled from needlepoint pictures of
broken homes and mind games and
sewn into coping mechanisms
spun from silver spoons
(the kind that lets money speak for
whatever drugs it can buy;
the kind he likes because he never has to
speak his mind except to
pick a poison)
i knew him
before he learned to collect scars like butterflies,
chasing himself in circles in the motel bathroom,
killing jar at the ready
(and we couldn't tell if his face was cracked
or if that was just his reflection in
the broken mirror smeared with eyeliner caveats),
but i'm still reading between the lines,
trying to see past the no-smoking
sign on the door and the
paisley duvet stained the
sickly red colour of addiction
he bypassed the pe
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Mature content
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Literature
know that...
even when you shed your feathers,
i'll be
standing right beneath you with a silver net
catching little daisy fingernails
and making a little screen called "home"
or at least "hospital"
with red hearts or red crosses
trying to forget about the times i've kicked
and scratched
and
held your hand with teeth and thorns and brittle bones
dainty tendons stretched and pressed and trembling
effort rending me in two
(and over there's a piece for you)
kicking chairs and denting walls like i could break your heart
but if i try  too hard to hit the high notes
in your love songs
and those lazy-day early-morning sick sweet lullabies
we might break apart
(but it doesn't matter now that i know
seams sealed tight bonded strong along broken bones
never break the same place twice,
so pieces of me will cut and run,
sick of tethers to this thing called body that i have no right to have)
but we'll always be tied together with white blood cells,
so take flight because you're song's still sweet to me
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Literature
home
The trees growing over the gate were bare and dry; I could tell by looking at them that they had died decades before, and I picked up a fallen branch to comfirm my suspicions.  The wood had rotted from the inside out, leaving only a meager shell.
It was cold, too, wind blowing sideways along the vertical cut of my body in front of the only thing not worn away with time:  the solid stone gate carved from what looked like marbled granite, but could have been something far different.  I don't claim to know about all the stones that prehistory may have contained.  
Despite being set in a valley, the air was so thin that I could barely breathe.  You would have loved it there.  Even though it was dark and abandoned, I would not hesitate to go back... if I could ever find it again.
At first, I wasn't sure about the legends.  Superstitious natives tend to avoid certain places and encourage others to do the same.  T
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It's a cruel season that makes you get ready for bed while it's light out.

Favourites

Ink by IncompleteMe Ink :iconincompleteme:IncompleteMe 12 29
Literature
warrior one
warrior:
Americans are
the dogs, fish, camels, and serpents
lead the way, catwalker
cat pose canny future
   you can learn the scope of fame
she's pacing Florence, In June
good-humoredly—
—giggling Croatian: 'Are you flat gold?'
register the wedding
roosting black,
bird with        forthcoming edge, extraordinary beauty
to oneself, her properties— a flair, reciprocating
on a beach for Eternity
elements gamely transformed into infancy
the plight of the American girls
'there are these moments'
cook recipes, of medicine
a lung-cancer
the rationality of breathing
:iconclockwork-aristocrat:clockwork-aristocrat
:iconclockwork-aristocrat:clockwork-aristocrat 4 3
La Voz de la Ambicion by s-caruso La Voz de la Ambicion :icons-caruso:s-caruso 1,350 157 Ink Blot by UnHappyCrayon Ink Blot :iconunhappycrayon:UnHappyCrayon 2 3 Same Old Story by ShaunaGregory Same Old Story :iconshaunagregory:ShaunaGregory 2 2
Literature
Put some original text here
Put some original text here
and then a body underneath. Put down
that ants have gotten into the body,
that the roses are red as humble ants storming for a kiss
and the little legs of rain itself shall slumber
light underneath each horse,
each door, the dress, the grave.
This is my sad sharp lettering, my downpour
in the making – the mind brings the grave,
sweet violets soup the beloved's bed,
and we are motionless; we are
stopped with sense; we are bodies
within voices, the memory of glass.
Dress some original text here. Put out a love
to beat upon her door with its awful lettering,
a kiss to horse upon memory
lying there in the dry recess underneath my voice,
a storm vibrating to the last of a terra-cotta dress
in the rain. Put the downpour to mind.
We are heaped for the storm.
The rain drums down like an awful text.
The senses cry out as they quicken –
put some original text here:
She wore a minute more, though
the rose was dead. She wore
a terra-cotta dress and the rain,
s
:iconb1gfan:b1gfan
:iconb1gfan:b1gfan 40 59
Literature
on the front porch
And when we first married
Two wooden chairs
Upon the front porch
Turned slightly
Toward one another
So we could gaze into eyes
As suns set
Endlessly
Over lives intertwined
Like roots
Newly formed
And as those years
Passed on
Those chairs
Turned away
Slowly
At one degree angles
Each year
So it goes
That we may watch the suns set
Endlessly
Over lives intertwined
Lives climbing stems
Ever growing
And with the chairs
Perfectly parallel
In their finally resting places
Hands still held
As when it first began
But eyes
Set on the horizon
Like one moment's gaze missed
Would be all too wasted
Of suns setting
Endlessly
Over lives intertwined
Like branches
Interlocked
And with chairs nailed to floorboards
Never facing one another
Never missing a moment of life
Or suns setting
Endlessly
Never noticing
When
The other
Is empty
:iconbellamuerte91:bellamuerte91
:iconbellamuerte91:bellamuerte91 1 2
Literature
Dear Me
Hey.
It's me, you.  So, you're graduating middle school.  You got accepted to LaSalle Academy.  Congrats.
Things are gonna get rough.  Pretty soon,  you'll be in high school.  I know you're excited.  I know you wanted to go to LaSalle for years.  Mom wanted you to.  Grandpa wanted you to, and that's why Mom wanted it.  You're never going to really talk to your friends again.    
At LaSalle, you'll learn who you are.  You might not like it.  You'll have friends who hurt themselves, and friends who do drugs, and friends who don't eat.  You're going to love them no matter what, even though you won't understand at first, and you'll wish you could do something to help them.  You wont be able to, and it's gonna make you feel bad about yourself.  Just remember that loving them is the best thing you can do.  That's h
:iconRebelTango:RebelTango
:iconrebeltango:RebelTango 2 8
Take the pencil by Culpeo-Fox Take the pencil :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 1,867 132
Literature
Dream, 24 March
Imagine the most perfect setting for a modern romantic as you can.  Perpetually dim, warm firefly lanterns only.  Books scattered like stones over the ground.  A defunct hotel nestled in near tropical setting, isolated in a world of lush green.  A pool of brilliant turquoise, steam rising off the glittering surface.  Inside, high vaulted cielings swathed in tapestry.  Cushions and lounges on deep patterned rugs.  Warm warm colors: deep reds and deep golds.  
Diadem Biemba and Amalgamate Etcetera enter the scene. Their travel was long and difficult and the presence of the latter was a surprise, and a pleasant one.  Easy on the eyes is a term for describing amateurs.  This was a fallen.  The wit in the room, oh the depth.  There are still sore feelings toward the Diadem, and the cold prickling behind these eyes is still there for him, and the mild discomfort is visible
:iconIncompleteMe:IncompleteMe
:iconincompleteme:IncompleteMe 2 17
VW bus by Arson69 VW bus :iconarson69:Arson69 108 35 Smile to the Camera by Culpeo-Fox Smile to the Camera :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 1,393 130 Threave Castle: keeper's bell by Coigach Threave Castle: keeper's bell :iconcoigach:Coigach 103 22 Portrait of Crime by s-caruso Portrait of Crime :icons-caruso:s-caruso 11,971 1,215 You are heart in the waves... by QueenofHearts1216 You are heart in the waves... :iconqueenofhearts1216:QueenofHearts1216 2 7

Activity


deviantID

ErsatzInspiration
I'm only hypothetical.
United States
i am a type-written flag blowing in the desert wind.

Favourite genre of music: anyone
Favourite photographer: anythings?
Favourite style of art: i
Favourite cartoon character: impossible.
Interests
  • Drinking: hazelnut coffee from boulder! yay boulder!
i need feedback!  please leave me comments if you can; i'd really appreciate it!

Comments


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:iconb1gfan:
b1gfan Featured By Owner May 3, 2010  Student Writer
:highfive: and many many thanks for the :+fav: on Put Some Original Text Here :D Did you try the link? The generator is interesting.
Reply
:iconb1gfan:
b1gfan Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2010  Student Writer
Oh no! I read the type written flag! I READ IT!! Now i am sure to 'splode....:(


Oh, llama for you!
Reply
:iconersatzinspiration:
ErsatzInspiration Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2010
haha

thankya kindly
Reply
:iconb1gfan:
b1gfan Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2010  Student Writer
Heheheh - oh, it's my pleasure. I was reading around in the new posts and got lucky enough to pop in on you. Cheers!!
Reply
:iconersatzinspiration:
ErsatzInspiration Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2010
thanks very much... i rea through your gallery a bit and methinks it quite interesting. i must return to peruse more.
Reply
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