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College Admissionshe snuck into the back of the room
with his sun-chapped knuckles
and his farmer's son burnt skin
he listened with his quiet mouth
drawn in a line taut with tension
he stalked back out with his hat tipped low
defeated long before t'd even begun
i wish him all the luck i do not need to have
7th Peroid English: Day TwoI watched your face light up
A smile so wide it broke my skin
Old, stitched-scars torn open in slight seconds
Your eyes, ever-catching, stood me in stillness
Undealt with emotions flickered too quickly
My mouth spoke before I thought and
With a breath I did not know Id drawn
We both allowed the moment to pass
an august poem**inhales**
i want to tell you about what you did to my insides just now
you made me remember what was lost
that silly little innocence mingled with guilt
where i used to bumble and you would laugh
but not at me, no, never at me
i want to touch your face and all those soft irish laugh lines
i almost made myself stop living in the future today
too much possible pain and too much ungrounded certainty
where all those high-voltage lines i've spun could dust-i-fy
ever since you've been around, however, so long or brief
with your earthen feet and dreamer's sight,
you were the rock that has helped me discover just who i want to be
i want to see your hands fit, always oh-so-perfectly, into the spaces of mine
Beth's Photoi have secretly coveted it
until i wore myself down with disgust
it's chisel-teeth gnawing the bottom
of the cell i have chained Envy to
sly, she-devil Envy has kissed my temples
poisoning the corners of my sand-glued eyes
she wants me to believe
that i hold no memeory of it
of your enamoration seeking mine so desperately
Untitled 22i have never had dreams the way that you do
so vivid and morning-hour lasting
i am tired of pressing my palms to the windows
staring at the green glitter skin of the earth
i want these things that you can't give to me
i can only do these things inside my own my mind
because the world won't accept them as they are
or cannot accept them because the people see it in themselves
but, unlike you my unlucky irish man i have hope
i'll carry it in my pocket, smoothen over like a river stone
Untitled 23i wanted to slap you
for eveything anybody like me had been through
it is not my sexuality that determines who i am
who i am determines my sexuality
i will not sleep with another woman for you
so you can get off on the sight of such barbarianism
her body is her own, not for your carnal delight or mine
she weilds her own goddess-pixie power when she wishes
you stupid stupid boy
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
Edward Scissor Handstongues slipping in the dark
between the ears
is all i know of your story
so, i'll cry with you tonight
we'll lose ourselves in the stars
within the branches of the pink dogwoods
because we cannot touch
i watched them massacre you
from behind a pexi-glass screen
as anger pulsed an elevating pain in my ears
so, lie next to me tonight
you'll lose yourself with my amnesia kisses
because you've never touched
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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