|These words are my heart.|
The way we tend to beToday, I learnedThe way we tend to be by neonsquiggle
that grief is the highest form of surrender.
I am still learning how to sleep.
but I know the words to every Frank Turner song now,
and I wear them on my shirtsleeves
everywhere I go.
I know that recovery is a long time coming,
but it can't hurt to hope for scar tissue
on more than just skin.
I suppose this is what getting better looks like -
a quiet, fading ache.
reading so many words aloud and wondering
if you are still amenable
to being my friend.
spelling out my own name and
remembering how it feels
to just breathe.
every art page I follow lately
has been telling me
that it's okay to be lonely.
and maybe that works, too.
but recovery has been a long time coming
and I am still terrified of September.
but perhaps there is hope still
for the wayward hurricanes.
perhaps we are all orchards,
still learning how to bloom.
and perhaps the sunlight has been so heavy
if only to teach us
how to bear the weight
don't worry, darling -
this is nothing so empty as
every star is an empty light housethey say saltwater cures anything:every star is an empty light house by neonsquiggle
or the sea.
if you were here, you'd say
we were never sick, we were just
maybe all broken things can be made new again,
put back together with a miracle -
or the sea.
maybe all lost things come home,
and all you need to do is hope.
call out in semaphore.
stand on the pier 'til they make anchor.
come back to the empty lighthouse.
name a star after them
and make a wish.
kneel on the wet sand
maybe all it takes is an ocean song.
maybe nobody has tried hard enough.
or the sea.
stories only keep you immortal for so longsomewhere on the other sidestories only keep you immortal for so long by neonsquiggle
of a town shaped like
a midnight cliche,
you are dying:
it has been so many months
since I last mouthed your name.
I have been dead since August, darling,
but on the sandbars of my memory
we are seventeen forever,
drunk on sloppy kisses
and spoken-word poetry,
throwing around our dreams
like they're fists
and humming the theme song to Rocky,
promising paper cranes for every landed punch
and writing love letters
to the bruises of tomorrow.
we reached our meridian
on a Tuesday,
falling gently into ruin
like statues underwater,
held together with nothing
but a silence heavy as a cannonball -
and even the windstorms we weathered
would leave us only shaken,
we were far too comfortable
in the bedrock,
pressed upon each other,
praying to turn into diamonds
in the morning;
we were fossils, you and me,
the negatives in the film,
the ghosts of u
don't write poems for fuckboys.youdon't write poems for fuckboys. by neonsquiggle
are not perfect.
miles beneath that golden line,
all sweat and sinew
and broken hearts,
with the hunger
of a hundred different girls.
are not perfect.
like a fool, a
whipping through the
down my spine.
are not perfect.
I can see
that scar on your hip,
the achilles heel in your
caged and calculating
the next best way
to rip into
my fresh meat.
are not perfect.
but your skin tastes like
against my name,
with far too willing
are not perfect.
but you carry your charisma
like a thunderstorm,
and you smile like you know
I am aching for the rain,
and you -
well, you can call me baby
whenever you damn well
|These words are my heart.|
something the sting of wonders unknown, cut through my innocent flesh.something by Bunny--was--here
breathless, i cling to my open chest.
who dares look at me?
will you be the one to break my carefully comprised composure?
your name rings through my ears,
and the tears start to bleed down my cheeks.
the color of love.
my favorite color.
saying good-bye again,
a depressing affair isn't it?
do you die a little inside?
does your heart feel like its been ripped apart?
shredded by those damned "wonders" we just had to discover?
we couldn't leave well enough alone.
now i just want to cry.
WingsKisses of nicotine,Wings by Nghts1lk3r
Touches of heroin,
The sensations of
Sweet poison addiction.
The feeling soaring
On wings of love
I tore out my wings,
I showed you that
I was no angel,
I was not like you.
You cling to it,
Those feathers I
Pulled out in front
Of your precious gaze.
I never wanted
To be your sin,
To cause your fall.
So I cast myself out,
And learn to live anew.
Shifters' LaughThe shifters laugh at me like broken silhouettesShifters' Laugh by After-Eden
toasted then burnt as breakfast
with nothing good coming of it
not even eggs over easy running down my cheek
or messing up your hair
The bitter nights dilate until my mind falls through dreams
and picks me up with star light built for lost trails
sure as the lakes and built like wheat,
Pulls truth stained memories from my frozen hands
and ushers me back
With the promise of reality
The Gravity of the VacuumYou don't know drunk, until your clinging to the groundThe Gravity of the Vacuum by yamiam91
So you don't get spun off the world
But that's the only time I cant miss you
So this is where I remain
Split in two
Time divided between self loathing and fantasy,
In silence, In my cage, In my prison
|Lovely works of art made by lovely, lovely people.|
all too easy,
forgetting your name,
tasting the starlight tucked
behind someone else's
wisdom teeth ;
our soju-laced smiles
crashing at 90mph
and the memory of you
in the headlights and
wreckage of us,
our 2am laughter
echoing in your bones
from 5654 miles away ;
my hands knowing
the age-old roads
that led to brand new places,
and the faded map of you
folded and kept hastily
in my back pocket.
(I was far too proud
to ask for directions
to come home)
chaos theoryI soaked your butterflies in vodka,
and buried them alive.
I planted yellow daisies in the 20-proof dirt
and waited for the sunshine
to make us all
Sometimes when the winds are angry where you are,
I think of your butterflies and wonder
if we're all still fighting to get out.
If they ever named a hurricane after me
I would call you up just to say
I told you so.
things you should've told me.1. You're going to be okay., a longer version of
2. I haven't forgiven myself yet, but I'm getting there.
3. You can't make homes out of people. You can't make poems out of them, either.
4. Whatever you want to believe, you should know you made me happy.
5. You were always beautiful, even though I never said it aloud.
6. Writing about you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
7. Tucked between my lungs is a memory of the day you first smiled at me.
8. It's funny when you realise that I'm an atheist, and goodbye used to mean God be with ye.
9. I don't know the words for the way I felt when you first called me handsome.
10. Sometimes I started fights just to see if I could make you leave.
11. I stopped loving you somewhere in between the third drink and the fourth.
12. I went home that night and I couldn't remember your face.
13. I never read your letters - it would have been too sad.
14. Boys should be allowed to cry in public, too.
15. I wasn't built to handle forevers.
16. I can't listen
couragethe day I realised, and of course, the title work,
I may never taste your mouth again,
I threw myself
into the first cigarette I could find,
sputtering through the smoke
and greedily inhaling my death wish.
today, my hands smell like nicotine
and lighter fluid ;
and I wonder, if you were aching
would you still let them hold you?
isn’t always sacrifice -
sometimes it’s just alcohol,
or far too much loneliness,
or far too little.
I could have loved you forever,
if you’d been brave enough to let me.
Polaris is Dead.windbound,) as well as a bunch of brand-new, completely unpublished (and probably will never be dA-published) poems! It's not free, but then good art rarely is (and I need to make a living somehow, too). Plus, Leanpub has this nifty feature where it shows you how much I earn, and lets you decide (with a built-in minimum) how much you want to pay for the book. So if you're feeling generous, you can drag that slider all the way to 10! I haven't been super active lately (big surprise) but I've been dealing with school as well as working on some new poems because I figured I needed to gain some traction and write a new book as soon as I could. I'm also in the middle of figuring out the plot of a graphic novel that I want to write and illustrate myself, so that's taking up a considerable amount of time (partially because I also need to learn to draw for shit). All in all, very hectic schedule, but please understand that I do care very much about the art on here and the support you all have shown over the years. The link to the book is over here leanpub.com/polarisisdead . So please go show it some love, and even if you can't buy it, or aren't sure if you want to buy it, it would really mean so much to me if you could talk about it and try to gain it some attention! Every little bit helps. Thanks so much again, you all are lovely. Also, I used far too many parentheses in this journal, whoops.
we were caught and cornered,
underneath the weight
of rocks and hard places
that tore us all but
in this and every maelstrom
we were just waiting
holding hands like they were
and locking palms in prayer ;
we knew an introduction
to the edge of our little world was
and said our goodbyes
every time the ocean's belly
swelled with Neptune's angry squall,
our mouths filled with salt and
all the breathlessness that came
with keeping a weather eye
on that horizon.
you were the light of my life -
every smile a star
and every star a sentinel,
keeping us from keeling over
or charting courses
hellward bound ;
that angel stern,
on every map and
on every midnight journey,
and making sure
we always knew
which way was north,
or a new world,
the storms got the best of us,
our little ship stricken
from bow to stern,
from mizzenmast to bowline,
How long have you been on DeviantArt? - Around 5 years or so!
What does your username mean? - You know those gummy worms from Trolli? I love those. I could eat 'em all day. UwU
Describe yourself in three words. - Passionate. Loyal. Moody.
Are you left or right handed? - I'm right-handed!
What was your first deviation? - Oh, lord no. I don't even remember. Actually, I do. I think it was a song or rhyming poem of some kind and I know I used ellipsis and I am so glad that I've come so far and my soul cringes too much to talk about it any more. *shudder*
What is your favourite type of art to create? - Literature that speaks from the heart.
If you could instantly master a different art style, what would it be? - OH MY GOD WATERCOLOR PAINTING. YES. ALL THE WATERCOLORS. YES.
What was your first favourite? - This one! I still love it.
What type of art do you tend to favourite the most? - Literature, because I spend most of my time visiting literature-filled galleries.
Who is your all-time favourite deviant artist? - My best friend, lizilicious UwU
If you could meet anyone on DeviantArt in person, who would it be? - Everyone who's followed me from my first year and continued to support me. I love you all, always.
How has a fellow deviant impacted your life? - A lot of people have given me quite constructive comments on what techniques I should use or given me suggestions to lovely works of art that have made my heart grow. dA always continues to inspire and impact my life, and therefore my art.
What are your preferred tools to create art? - Pen and ink! Or, screen and keyboard.
What is the most inspirational place for you to create art? - My bedroom, in the dead of the night. With a nutella sandwich on a saucer beside me and Coldplay blasting into my ears.
What is your favourite DeviantArt memory? - The first time I ever got a Daily Deviation. It was for Up and Apart I wasn't even expecting it, I swear. I was so happy and so shocked and so grateful. I still am. I will always be. Thank you for everything, deviantArt!