|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
SpeechlessWriting is my passion.
It's what I do.
It's who I am.
I can weave words easily, without thinking.
But when I think of you,
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterflies
until she realized their beauty
rubbed off on her fingers;
but she will always be loving you
with those digits.
20 years from now
when even the love on her arms
sometimes i forget how to breatheAn overwhelming need to shut myself
underwater and drink in my inevitable
death. Crawl out to shore and gasp
out apologies while tending to cut knees,
but leave the internal damage. Find something
to tether me to the ground, clutch it
between pruned and shaking hands.
Water drips off my nose, down my arms,
plinks into the puddle in my lungs.
I am drowning on dry land, choking
on the irresistible thought of you.
knees and toeshere is a short list of things i know:
Cody says he hates David, but he really doesn’t,
i will never wear a coat until the first of November,
i hate myself in the spring,
the sun is 92, 960, 000 miles from earth and i’m pretty sure
that number is rounded to look pretty
or god must be ocd.
it’s a miracle, i’m learning to look you in the eye.
make a wish, make a wish, any wish
i’m plucking out my eyelashes, i’m learning
to give up beauty for a shot at happiness.
i say too much too quickly without getting out
all of the consonants and my speech is craggy
and rocky like an abandoned trail in the Appalachians,
overgrown and the road not taken.
my fingernails are ragged and bitten to the shortest
stub i could stand. i don’t want to hurt you,
i don’t want to hurt myself, my fingernails cannot
hurt you but i can still hurt myself. one day i’ll
be brave enough to leave scratch marks on your skin
in angry red lines, one day i’ll be some
.in the night
time you are
skin and stitches
you up with a
purer love, until
the morning comes,
the sun runs his
teeth through your
seams again, splits
NaPoWriMo: Day 3Today,
I wanted to pluck my ribs
from out my chest &
hang them about my house
like wind chimes-
a taunt for hungry wolves.
I didn’t grab for sharp objects,
I just wrote about it.
I never knew
I wanted to be a writer
until I lost something.
I still don’t know what that is-
(my mind, maybe.)
they fill gaps
that had no stories
to keep them
from hollowing out
in the first place.
psychiatry of lonely nightsThe Psychiatry Of Lonely Nights
we open your chest,
we find his words tucked inside
they hide within each crevice
each folded, words from letters,
you stored them in your ribs,
you'd swallowed them whole,
flossing them between bones
and sealing them closed
only to open to us lonely nights
or a sleepless time
or a remembered phrase at the bedside
once covered over by parietal
peritoneum and solemnstitch,
pierce of each enunciation
and far-off thought
cut apart by an ample knife
a thoughtful gaze
heart hurt to see the sight
feeling like concrete
sifted around the valves
off-set with cracks
all shuddering with each repetition
he is gone &
he is far away &
your thoughts thread into your eyes
your fingers reach toward each letter in your chest
when we lift words, tentative at the corners,
your breath trembles and refuses to leave,
pain all in your hand that shakes on the precipice
between heavy shoulder gaping wound and
visceral pericardium, tattooed with
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More