|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
overflowi tried to show you
all the broken bones
in the cupboard
all the cobwebs
underneath the staircase
all the schisms
and chinks in my
your finger touched my lips
in a curious sort of way
and you said
don't say a word
none of that matters
so i tried
to shut away the
but now they're out
and coming for me
and i can't escape them
with my heart so chipped
outgrowing gillssea-cradled urchin
child has a salty heart yearnin'
for a glimpse of mother moon
tiny spiked wunderkind
punk, studded belt
you know life's answers well
shuffling through the seaweed-less halls
missing the ocean swell
tidal waves foaming at the mouth
everyone is laughing now
at the boy born on a boat one sunny afternoon
cause mama loved the sea like lovers love the sheets
landlocked kid is homesick and
sea sure, he's searching for the sea shore
life's a blur for Davy Jones at his locker
capsized by sea-legs on solid ground, he finds his seizures
and he hates his earth mother
he hates her
for falling for the ocean and
how he's rocked by the moon
how he's mesmerized by her glow
her pull on his sea-conceived cells
he hates her too
for the puking in the stalls
for the ridicule
leavingleaving is a can that you
kick around in the street
because it's been a long day
& it makes you feel better.
some days you kick it
harder, longer than others,
& some days there just
aren't enough cans or streets.
but the thing about leaving
is that when the
street lights come on,
you always end up going home.
Primevaland I don't smoke, but all my poems talk
of cigarettes and ashes because my father smoked
for forty years and now he can't breathe
and I can't breathe.
the chill from the rain seeps through the glass panes
and feels swollen in the loneliness of a crowded train;
the air is pregnant with an umbilical thread
connecting us to something intangible,
something necessary to our being
yet we don't exist at all.
smoke and vapor crawling out our mouths;
we talk because the silence is sometimes frightening,
and because we're searching the dust visible only
in the places where light bends for words that won't disappear
youi dug him out of my ribcage &
drowned in bleach and flames
to rid myself of
the dreaded devil's hat
that seeped from my pores
this wasn't about him.
this was about erasing the blemishes
and making my own
but you said my new freckles
spelled out your name with
across my shoulders
and i began to question
how you would sound
around such a shoulder
i have only ever been the gasping
not the gasped
Heavy Love IIjust
just lay down,
put soft hands
on the space
and i'll pretend i'm Leosome days i think you wonder
like i do
the way i thumb my earlobe when i hope that you're not looking
the taste behind my teeth. in
gemini circles, i'd think us a malformed constellation;
being dust specks, i exist as naught but to black hole your world
into other closeness
sometimes i think you're wrong. i can write these words, can i?
i can write them 'cause you never look, you are heavy on me, you are pressed to my hip
and you don't know that I'm writing about you
you will miss the point
i think there was a time when you never tried to cover up my voice with other songs.
a box of quartz plucked from the drivewa
i miss the girl i almost wasi miss the girl i almost was
she sits lightly on the edge of the bed
at 4am and brushes my hair back from my
face with a touch like spiders' footsteps
her breath is like ice and
her wishes are weightless
she wraps a strand of promises around
her fingers and kisses me goodbye again
with lips like polished crystal
she waits for me at crossroads
she is always cold
writer's blockstranded on an island scantily
dressed in moonlight, you stare
at roiling water resembling a
horizon of interweaving words
but when you lift your right hand,
spirals of silence shackle
the weightless sounds
she breathed out happy endings
she pressed herself between the pages of her favorite storybook
until her veins began to bleed ink. with her head in the clouds,
she wasn't sure of where she was and didn't much care as long as
it wasn't here.
astronomerswhen we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.
we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers creator and destroyer
so close to your lips.
Other Girlsit's not a simple thing
reading old magazines
like other girls
with other girls
in the same room
with the same shame
but they're not you
and they weren't there
but they know
Waiting rooms that get stuck in your joints
how different names seem spelt now
closer to a gamble than a title
now, you're gonna have to spell
closer to this hell
your good sense
chirps in your sleep
chips at your teeth
too smart for that
too you (makes sense)
to end up like other girls
who look like other girls
with other g
so here's the thing:i feel like a tired little
skeleton wearing the
same shirt 1, 2,
3 days in a row, knuckles
drumming along the knobs
of my spine and fingers
be twe en the rib bones
that flash in the sun and create
shadows on my skin
and listen, everybody wants to be
skinny but i want to sleep and it's funny
, i don't want my bones to
skick out at
but my stomach
1 am fantasythe morning is totally black with frozen paint,
there is black-blue frost branching over her milky skin,
that creaks softly as it forms,
that runs like a helmet down her nose,
like curling tattoos around her eyes,
like inky fingers down her neck,
and she is hooked by sky-cold silver,
through her nose and eyebrow,
that tastes like ice when tongues run over it,
that tastes like the way the stars look,
and she would look at you like a star looks,
with something endless and sparking with ice,
with leather boots scuffed because she doesn't care,
with colorful shoe-laces and muscled arms,
and behind her back they flex,
Sexting a TelemarketerMy ventricles cannot hold my affection for you.
It bursts out of me in ill-controlled eruptions,
a mounting avalanche of nostalgia and moxie.
I become Vesuvias, smothering you whole,
encapsulating each inch of you in loving ash.
[You do not go into marketing because you love your voice.
It is because the wolves are after you, nipping your feet.
Selling becomes a badly-jointed catharsis, pouring ore,
lighting sparks along these old wires: a nasal hush.
Epiglottis raging against the dying of supple soul.]
When we merry meet, I will count your teeth, comb your gums
for evidence of past relations. Satisfied, I climb into you.
Wear your skin lik
IschemiaThere are holes in my brain.
Blood-shaped spaces, valleys
where the ganglia died in combat.
MIA. The rush of vertigo pulsating
in my poor ears; flash and dazzle
of losing my vision. Headshot,
migraine mimic, the nightingale
that sings only in my deepest dreams.
And perhaps I am just losing my touch.
Retreating into my seashell, rebirthing
myself into a lynx, pantherine patterings
and the prattlings of a mad mango.
I remember when my father tried to throw himself
into the rattlings of an oncoming train.
TIA. TIA. TIA. The Swiss cheese impetus,
blocked flow to world-weary grey matter.
One day it will affect me too.
I will leave this world une
Jupiter FieldsFuck you until there's nothing left.
Scar tissue and liver palpitations,
some sly slick place inside you,
rooting around for shag stuck
in your sticky veins.
Breathe into my mouth and feel the rainbow.
Soporific sweetener, lead me to a stupor
and wrench the knife deeper into my gut.
Like picking a lock. Destroy whole cities
to make you smile again. Nausea swills
in stomach. The end was always nigh.
Protecting you from yourself,
the most precarious occupation. I sigh
and twist my fingers around your carotid,
feel your pulse stutter and stop. Stasis.
Deep-freezing the feeling deep in your root.
And we can recommence at any time.
HelenaWatch me lose myself. Self-destruction
is my finest skill. Sparkling, panting
breaths; the nicotine hit I pull
into unwilling lungs. Ageless falling,
the romantic plummet to solid ground.
And I am yet undying. Nine lives
is not enough. Here I am; consume me.
When I unlock the doors, a ghost
comes through me. I am entranced.
Resurrection comes as a punch of pulse.
Neurons flare impatient soliloquies
loud enough for Antarctica. Give me
my sweater and watch me burn.
A thrust of hips; I am the seductrix
never meant to fail. Liquor-white teeth
and whiskey-slow smile. Flies circle.
The grind of bones on leather.
You are my only fetish.
AlabasterIt comes down to muscle memory.
Downed wires, the rolling of thin fingers,
pressing on a pale throat, catch and release.
I held a bird in my fingers, flutter of bones
and energy. Deconstructing its parts, diving
down to the silence after the singing.
No one notices. Etherized and floating,
the subtle shift of gasping breaths.
To take the shotgun into one's hand
and press until there's nothing left.
At times, at night, I hear murmurs
of espionage, sniper scope clicking
into place. But I am not worthy
of a noble death, exhaling
for one's country.
Burn the skin until bleeding, swell up
with blister, and puncture the wound.
This is what I do
HullFight fuck or die.
This is my life;
endless dregs of Earl Grey tea
and the soothing strains of cigar smoke
jangling on my last nerves.
I fell out of love on a Sunday.
Feeling my ribs for breakage -
there was none. Chasm of a heart,
thudding precious in my chest;
wine dulling psychic wounds.
The world is dead and I am its lover,
clinging to the last vestige of sanity,
hands clasped for eternal prayers.
Last click of the rosary on my teeth
and I'm done.
LossKneel. Lick the salt. Pray.
There is a hole here, I say,
pressing to my breastbone.
No doctor can diagnose it.
There is no test to check
how deep you've been ingrained
in my woodwork, pumping muscles
and spitting valves.
And no scalpel can erase this.
The emptiness of unfriendship.
Cold eyes glinting black
where once they glimmered.
This is a flimsy half-light
coming from my cigarette.
Nothing good will come for years.
Kneel. Lick the salt. Pray.
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More