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sleep, or lack thereofSleep is elusive.
It hides behind 10:45 screams
And 'I forgot' showers.
But to say the Grand Canyon's faultless,
Would be to say the same of me.
There is no excuse for 3:14 wanderings,
More confusing and stress-induced to me
Than the same number in geometry.
Yet they serve the same purpose:
Sending me off in circles, which are only useful
I Imagine that sweet pure bliss which tires above all else
And still it helps none.
I yearn for summer days
When my head never hit the pillow
(To my limited frosh knowledge).
The shadows cast by 26 lettered keys
You could say keep me company,
If I ever bothered to glance down.
This problem, if I may call it that without some diagnosis,
Haunts me just as I now do the halls.
There is some desperate hope in my padded tread
Of discovery, because once known,
The process of finding a cure can begin.
Of course I'll never voice it on my own;
Sometimes it's takes the attention and care
To piece together broken fragments,
Which, right now,
babysitter there art thouMy babysitter's back.
To be my mentor, my role model.
[for my confirmation]
But doesn't babysitter realize that she's more useful hiding in the back of my mind?
I know she's swimming in that milky fluid that surrounds my brain, popping out and skirting along the neurons only when babysitter feels the need. Doesn't she feel the awkwardness in her gills, in the knowledge that babysitter's been resurfaced for too long?
I wonder if she remembers.
Babysitter's trading frozen pepperoni pizzas for pot roast in our dining room. Instead of receiving a, "you know what to do!" over a dressed-up shoulder, she gets a four hour long conversation about her. And life after college, babysitter's job, babysitter's boyfriend.
I don't mind.
I just wonder if babysitter feels cheated.
Babysitter's traded an eight-year old unknowingly asking racist and stereotypical and far too sexual questions for her age for a fourteen-year old who eats cookie after cookie [calorie after calorie] for something to do while
words trump actionWhen I'm wheelchair bound,
you can bet you'll be around
'Cause I don't have to shout
to drown out my actions
I never need to use my touch,
just a still whispering hush
Echoes in our connected eyes
although we're frozen in time.
Motion to typed text in haste,
those heavy footsteps have a space.
Our library's always cramped,
but there's no house for the mimes.
Words open your mouth in awe.
Fights dislocate your jaw.
But you know words can break
what a punch never could.
Further respect laden silence,
than epitomes of violence.
Bloody misunderstandings what we're left with
when we refused to end the quiet.
So when I'm wheelchair bound,
you can be you'll be around
'Cause I don't have to shout
to drown out my actions.
Secret Santa 'shh'moon's the spectator for an ethereal world
brings frigid gusts
adds vampiric cloak of midnight
almost as a suggestion
the sun chases the shadow
blinding it with fiery passion
scorching the frost the litters its sky
and outshining the twinkiling smoldering stars
flaring brightly, it seeks to diminish all the moon's
yet there is that split second
both trying to outdistance the other
that the sky becomes a home for two
dear my wishesdear you,
i didnt wish for you at 11:11
but i was thinking of you
does that count?
im watching snow float haphazardly
holding my breath until it safely meets the ground
feeling like ive intruded upon its dance
the streetlamps' reflecitve glow its stage
no earthly mortal seated in the audience
am i watching you right now?
the frozen water's so pure
i can feel you, see you, taste you
imagining it's you divided into
these destinationless flurries
because it could only be you
i want to draw you into my hands
and protectively, singuarly listen to the silent lullaby
your decent is making
your observer, admirer, friend, constant
love from me
the snow's hidingi can only snag glimpses
of reclusive snow
in the glare
of flourescent streetlamps
the best show residing outside
my blotched line of 15/20 vision
isn't just words 'scoff'love isnt just words, they say
its the way you say them
the way im changing the pitch of my voice
moving it up and down like a pencil on paper
drawing a hand cradling your cheek or
capturing the runoffs trailing out from your palm
when you talk it's jumbled erotic nothing
every word excited splatter painted breathlessness woven with
spontaneous blotches racing to escape
but i'm content in this finger painted masterpiece of a maze
that's love in words
a carved beating musclethere's something so primitive about the jagged bumps
the way it ran off course and was reconnected later
around the time you fended off my onslaught of tickles
im oddly possessive of this assymetrical thing
bending down to reverently kiss the flaking wood
it took you moments to doodle, (others would say vandalize, youd say screw them)
but i can still feel you in the map you drew of my inner metronome
simply because it came from whatever you once were
whatever we once were
dont take your fights seriousanother's fighting with me
hoping to change me
draw out a reaction
it's not the conflict that impacts me
it's who with
youre just flattering yourself
trying to imitate her method
to make me care about what you think
and a year, a year and a half, two years later
hers are still carried by me in personally-signed anniversary cards
to me, from me
i'm still snap-shotting, freeze-framing my failures in
your awkward pauses
full of things you wouldve, shoudlve, could have said
before i cracked us
so i'm copying my failures
presenting one to you with resigned flourish
everytime i spill the milk
and we still dont know what i'm trying to prove
When Stars CollapseThis is how you bespeckled my bones
with bewilderment: you kissed hushed heart
whispers and slumbering secrets
into my fingertips. You infused awe
into my joints, causing me
to ask how snowflakes got their
shape and how long would it take
to get from the Sun to Capella.
You taught me that energy is neither
created or destroyed; stars do not die.
Eyes washed with emerald sorrows you
told me that they evolve, they change
into something entirely different,
or not so different.
I now know we are made of the same
particles as someone or something else.
We began someplace together.
We're made of so much more than "star-stuff",
we are made of each other.
In a world with no mercy
Day after day
Until the end
The day I die
And then maybe
I'll find some peace
The Breaths Between Usi'm minutes away
from the collision site
the breaths between us
and the lost time
clock guts, sprung
our hallway uncoils
his walnut lean
i'm seconds away
from the before
of our near-miss
the beads of air
and the imperfections of
in a rumored heart
a stuttering mass
this broken belled
has lost hold
of the lives we live
its skullsong rings
the same vibration
I am me. Who are you?I am fragments
of every person
I've met; every
memory made; every
bond formed and tie broken.
I am an orchestra
of people's opinions;
each snide comment
each casual remark
each passing compliment
I am a library
of forgotten lies
and fake smiles
and empty promises.
I am a sky of hope;
filled with stars
which carry the wishes
of the people I have encountered
I am never alone
for their influence will forever
taint my soul and
remind me of their hopes,
dreams and pain.
This is who I am.
Who are you?
Blooming Through CrevicesBlooming Through Crevices
People are characters;
their personalities are not to be cracked,
but to bloom.
Codes and signals
Setting our sights
On how to see
Through the cipher.
Optics opting for options
As opposed to conscious.
Ardor replaced by harder
To break through exteriors.
But mortality is only one facet
Of the entirety of humanity.
It is a compass of one being,
But merely a piece of the puzzle
That makes up human composition.
let us not break through empathy
with deductive methodology
but rather with the rhythm
of a honeybee whistling along the hymn
of the wind whispering in the leaves.
humanistic, holistic ideologies
is what the standard can be.
it is the notion of being a metaphor
rather than being something to decipher.
because there are more stars and galaxies
in poetry than there will ever be algebraic
expression curls up with ambiance
under the window pain of a picture frame
because we write more about
storiesi begin and end with stories
where hummingbird hearts play sonatas
against my ribs and i drown in
early morning light and
the girl in me sinks into the sea
like rusting anchors chained to
ships and i sway port and starboard
the lion in me rises like lazarus
from the savannah where dust swirls
and i begin and end with stories
where i swallow the world and all
the rain and girls and lions in it
where i hold it up like atlas,
where i support jupiter with just
an index finger and where i chase
comets and cup them like fireflies
to hang on my bedroom walls
on remembering to breathe:i.
you can't hold it in for forever.
your lungs weren't
made to bear the weight
of this world, they weren't made
to left unexpanded
and unexplained -
it is not phenomenon that wakes you
when paralysis hits in the
night, it is physiology telling you that
not everything happens on automatic, okay?
(at least not for always)
you're born like a time bomb, with
only so many beats of
your heart in place to tick away day by day -
your words, they're the same.
there's a time limit
on your tongue, so say something that
means something - use words
that dig in and rip out hearts, use words that
curl around your fingers and worm their
way into your soul.
use words to make something
beautiful. something remembered.
never leave three things
left unsaid because they can be three
words that mean everything -
i'm not telling you to save your breath.
i'm begging you not to waste it.
sing. sing enough to take your breath
away because even though
it leaves you gasping, it fills up that
please PLEASE pleaseplease, please
i care and i cant hide
screaming sounds tortured
maybe i am
cant you see?
im tired of being
just please realize
i WANT to be here
like crows, black ghosts of nightmares
fly on wings of dreams, of fears
the dreams arent theirs
the dreams yield to no master
the crows own nothing
thier cries are still the inspiration
for our own.
we command, we control
now if only the same could be said
for my life
if i could see where it led
i dont want to burn
feel the flame, lick, crack, taunt
your face appears
laughs, walks away
as everything peels away
the layers vanishing
i become nothing
just the same as i always have been
gates close, golden chimes receede
the flames claim ownership
i burn, you watch, and do nothing
my screams take the form of the crow
nightmares of mazes
screams, crows, mine, yours, intermingle
i run, but get farther away
not running away, but not running backwards
just deeper into re
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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