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the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav
we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo
Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.
SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?
FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire
Prelude       Nocturne;
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
       a wave across the sky

       I am lovely and lonely in
       the night, shadow-
       shackled to the mountainside

and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.
bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, bold-faced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.
VaseA broken heart can be excavated.
Damaged tissue can be scrupulously removed
and the cracks can be sealed
with the molten trails of gold solidified.
The upturned cavity,
once proofed against further damage,
can become a pulsing vase for tulips,
because even though your heart has been broken
it is still valuable beyond comparison.
silver dreams.i won't say a single thing
about what you and i did that night.
it wasn't anything bad, we were
made to do it.
but the way your tears fell down
in the shape of a cloud
and the pounding on the doors
told us the stars were calling.
more like the gates of hell, but
you think stars make the most delicate
corpses.
HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7
nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.
Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ
Puppet  My tears fall,

      like invisible

               diamonds.

 My heart beats,

      like soundless

               drums.

 Unwanted,

       because of the

             strings attached.
How To WriteHow to write:

Write a word.
Now write a sentence.
Write a paragraph.
A chapter.
A story.
The end. ♥
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More from *DeathbySkittlez

Silent GirlI want to cry to you and confess all my secrets.

But for some reason, my tongue cannot manage the words I need to speak.
Just as frequently, my lungs cannot find the air to breathe.
My mind is failing, crumbling and weak.
My eyes grow dim as they lose the ability to see beauty.
Of course, the mirror only reflects the ugly:
Self-loathing.

So, I expertly fill the void with well-executed banter and rehearsed laughs.

Because I feel that silence isn't what truly defines me.
Not with an incarcerated heart at "not-quite seventeen!".
Wrong ['I really need you now.']Please come back...
I didn't mean it.
I didn't know I'd done it.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I never wanted to push you away.
I don't want you to hate me.
But I knew...
I knew you had always thought I was strong.

That nothing could ever truly harm me.
Despite our intelligence, we weren't as mature as we thought.
We were still fooled by that cursed "Teenage Invincibility" mentality,
And Lord, we were mistaken.
So when I suffered, I turned away.
I didn't want you to see me;
Didn't want you to know of my pain.
I know better now,
I learned I was... "wrong".
Wistful Frustrations
It's all wrong, all of it.

Because the words that fall out of my mouth and stain the page are sophomoric at best,
And no metaphor can fool you into thinking I'm any better than all the rest.
I try and I push but my feeble mind is clouded by thoughts of you,
And my heavy heart will break if this is the best I can do.

Because it all started as a minuscule hole;
Which, aided by Misery's cruel company, began to implode.
Now, each night, I recognize a cold pain that resides in that dark cavity
That formed when I fooled myself into thinking he could complete me.

When all I ever wanted was to be happy and lovely and perfect-...
I may never

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November 19, 2012
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Myself as Alice [Poem about a Dream]

:icondeathbyskittlez:

I dreamt I was Alice, white and pure,
And I was trapped in a Wonderland of ideas and thoughts so obscure.
I had a lover whom I'd never met but was soon stolen due to my naiveity,
As I mourned this loss, the earth slowly began to feed off my insecurities.

It's populace was plagued for centuries with tricks and treachery.
They all tried vainly to reshape me, mold me into their Evil Queen.
Amongst the chaos and cruelty, I lost sight of what was real.
Worst of all, I realized, I'd grown too numb to feel.

I managed to escape with nothing but a gown of shame left to wear,
And scars containing stories of hatred and spite I am forever damned to bear.
Now, I'll aimlessly wander these empty, majestic fields all alone;
Calling out desperately as I search for a lover I've never known.
For, with myself as Alice, I've never seen a future so sad.
But as a nightmare, it wasn't half bad.
:icondeathbyskittlez:
Wrote this very quickly and I don't like the end but oh well. I had a dream that was oddly deep and wrote this about it. Updated it to get rid of typos.
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:iconfanaticalpublishing:
~FanaticalPublishing Nov 20, 2012
I like this; if you ever want to publish your work, look me up: [link]
Reply
:icondeathbyskittlez:
*DeathbySkittlez Nov 20, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Wow, thanks! It's a fantastic offer I may just take you up on! :)
Reply
:iconfanaticalpublishing:
~FanaticalPublishing Nov 21, 2012
Whatever you want.
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:icondeathbyskittlez:
*DeathbySkittlez Dec 19, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
No problem!
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