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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
Universe Inside Herthere is a universe inside her
systems upon systems
sometimes they collide,
or overlap and pass
some bright and expansive
as newly forming stars
some dark and vacuous
as old ones collapsing
there is a universe beside me
in this bed, she is my earth
hills and valleys
through shared rock shelves
our collection of mismatched
objects and moments
fractured and whole
to the balance
and gravity between us
our lives combine here
we heal and break
in the shared ache
of empty and full
there is a universe inside us
around us, with
and without us
our moons mature
spin off and center
their own galaxies
and we'll be here
in the shared ache
for our new
from the starline
Our destiny is determined
Reliving the past
Enduring the suffering
Visions of the future
Endeavours to come
Representing life as a whole
the gardenersMy father is a good man.
His hands, dry and
callused, carry a case
of Corona Lite
to the gardeners in
Big-brimmed hats cast
shadows down their faces,
and a pile of thick,
gray gloves lies
on the glass table.
The beer looks like liquid
gold in those clear bottles,
and condensation clings
to the glass like the sweat
beading at their brows.
My father and the gardeners
drink, laughing like they’ve
known one another for years.
There is nothing
that brings men together
better than beer
on a hot day.
grow upyou say
i am weak
i have never
worked for anything
i am not sorry
i should take
the pills the doctor
i will never
know what it is to
hurt the way that you hurt,
plant me in the ground
listen to the way my nature sounds
when i turn from something black
to something luminous, proud
you turned me into a shadow, you prick
remember that? remember this?
yeah, the condom broke, you
piece of shit, at least i tried
to be careful, at least when
you cried, i kissed your
say what you want
about my judgment.
my immaturity, my general
lack of readiness for
anything. but i was good
to you, and i tried,
and i am sorry that
you hurt so much
that you can't
do it as elegantly
as i can.
you have never
learned to love
the grit: the place
where my spirit sags,
where my love
as if biology could have been any clearer,
cleaning your spit from my bedroom mirror-
i can smell your genes and
they smell fucking good to me,
but i keep telling myself,
The Washed MindI have let the difficulties flood my body
From head, the worries slip to my heart
like children falling through the cracks
of some broken floor
under which is nothing besides me
My mind is melting from the inside
Swarmed by maggots and the meaningless questions:
Would my mind work better
without all these walls
stopping it from evolving?
Where did these obscene problems come from?
Surely my mind was born free
Surely my opinions exist somewhere...
Or is freedom nothing but a joke
to the true me?
So, I ate nails and needles to clear my mind
The bleeding and the pain
were both evil and refreshing
I have learned the lesson
fairy tales are the shadows on my eyes
Now my mind is clear as melting glass
running down my cold spine
washing away the sins,
violent thoughts and sorrowful memories
from the edge of my past
novago out there
in the early hours.
disturb the stars
in that waiting room sky.
I hope something
other than humanity
can remember these moments
once we are gone;
our white dwarf
and our tiny writhings
that we bother to count
coefficientsi cut the line at church today.
went into that dim room,
the one where you can't see who's there,
knew enough from the movies to
sit down and ask the curtain to
forgive me for i have sinned
and the faint light quivered
as he and she and the air
all laughed and god came
down and looked me in the eye
and in that darkness asked me
why i'd wasted his time repeating
what every goddamn person and animal
and plant had already told him-
said you think you're all unique
and i'm damn near at the end of my patience
with telling you that you're not-
i cut the line at church today
and saw some of god's skeletons
hanging in his closet.
We are all equal in death.
For in death,
There are no ranks
No privileges or fortunes
To be claimed.
You cast away
Flags and signs
To your name
Your last breath
Is a surrender
It's your chance
To meet your gods as an honest man.
There will be nothing
To keep us apart
When, at last,
We submit to the cold.
Without skin to bind us.
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