[x]

Indefinite Tidesshe speaks in vinegar riddles
and bides her time in shipwrecked
smiles- she's
ticking off days for the boy
with stormy eyes who promised
he'd be back in a season or
two. he, who was

crafted from the leftover bits of the moon
and the meandering sky with runaway
stars lurking deep beneath his ribcage,
waiting to fall whenever he spoke
like a saint, whose divine sacraments
parted land and birthed lives; like a
sorcerer whose words launched a
thousand sunken ships but

now, she pops pills like reminders,
stabilizers that last 4-6 hours
depending on her ability to forget

and she's lost in herself
again, among faltering brainwa

Keepers of My Hearti.
you are in love with being in love
like you're caught on the train tracks,
tied down by want, waiting for that
insistent collision to
steal you away into the land
of concussions and self-medication
and hearts that barely heal

ii.
and stories confessing the notches
in your bedpost, the lines in
your smile. the sour note in your
liberally dissonant melody.

iii.
you did not want tangibility

cotton trees cascading and butterfly
innards, serenading clouds and
fluorescent lips
(until the sky came crashing down
and you reoriented the earth)

iv.
you did not want me

v.
I am solid and as notable as
the ghosts sleeping in y

Spotlessone day you'll fly a little too close to the sun
and you'll remember the boy who told you
gas station trinkets were worth more than
the heart you wore on your sleeve.

disillusionment will take you home, and
it will not leave your bed in the morning.
(you will remember he called you loose, too.)

you are the one who believes in smoke
smiles and candid cadavers. no ones'
nose grows, so everyone must be
undeniably true (except

you lie to yourself, too)

a few lifetimes ago you fell in love
with your own reflection, but as you
stripped away layers of common mis-
conceptions, you realized you are not

virtuous and radiant and hung o

Skeletal Foundationsit's the city that makes you,
she says when her industrialized eyes
start to flicker. her heart rushes
like a subway falling late and
the patterns in her skin remind you of
striated architecture (reminds you of how
everything's human in its own way)

we're precarious concrete skeletons
crafted by men praying we won't fall,
and we yearn- you know- we ache
for a sense of vitality and being to
enter us and make us more than a
pale ghost of an engineer's dreams and

maybe we have our own shadowy corners,
too.

commotion exists betwixt her ears and
she's a destination, a place to rest and
catch your breath but not to settle
down b

admittance is defeatthey called you beautiful

with porcelain eyes about to crack
and cigarette skin crumbling
away, a knotted spine and
jagged smile:

you were never gracious.

you're slipping underneath, this
virulent smog masks a paper sky that
never allowed a dream and

you're afraid because it's soaking in
your pores again, unattainable and unoriginal;
the meaning of life never meant enough-

you were never hopeful.

there's a getaway map on the underside
of your pillow, and a lifetime of secrets
on the underside of your bones

you're a walking travesty:
your chest ticks, dull
your wrist beats, dying
time is keeping you but

you were never pa

Comatosethe clock rolls backwards

say hello to cold floors and breathing
ceilings and sleepless nights,
a snowflake city down in flames
and a humming monotony --

fingernails never dug deep enough.

you're stuck on words like I love him and
I miss him and this is it and I
love him I really really love- it's
better to have bled than ghosted
out into the

silence.
those are your thoughts suiciding themselves
under the smother of night, no
veneers can hide your
lines- time carved
you a new face and metered
your breaths;

asphyxiated and strung out by
your own needs, at least you had
the time
to write it all off,

but not before you

Nostalgiashe fell in love with the sound of
dying storms, and lost herself in
the blind spots accompanying her
every furtive glance

her downturned spine labeled her:
pitiful,
and her relentless divulging to
overcast skies defined her as
needy; but still she offered the
seeds of her pomegranate heart
to anyone willing to settle down
inside the breeze

and she was abandoned, long ago,
(once upon a time, no one cried)
by wolves with insipid fangs
and human eyes (her glittery irises
never quite belonged)
they discarded her when she asked if
self-delusions were a state of mind

and
she is poorly veiled, so see-through under
our cracke

What's That in Your Heart?months later and I'm still pulling pieces of you from my wounds;
memories are salt and you were the ocean that never dried out.
selfishness is the wear of the weary – I wonder, now, how much life
can you steal from a ghost?

my stomach still sinks, I've swallowed too many words. you were
the anchor that allowed me to drown. you were the siren that never
sounded sweet. when the noxious night comes I don't know who's in
the mirror (or what hollowed eyes mean.) am I the one or the nothing
that died out?

I tried so hard, I tried so hard to lose my shadow and forget myself
somewhere dark. I'm trapped between hell and a hard place,
try

expired warningsI hate to break it to you but we're all betting on the day when
your nightmares will swallow you whole and you won't
remember how to open your eyes. we forget your voice,
it broke and no one buried the pieces. we're giving you up:
secessions (your ribcage is a civil war, your heart is the victim.
there will be no memorial; there are only red flags)
obsessions pick your bones dry, vulture needs, vulgar
mortality argues at least you're not alive

at least you can't see us anymore, counting the knots
in your neck and catastrophes in your mouth. in
your summer cage you were a soggy butterfly bearing
a cumbersome cross. now, we leave yo

Idylliche always spoke of the romantic stance in a smoker
whose every gasp was like a suicidal swansong, he
wrapped himself up so tightly in unwarranted wishing, when
they stripped him free, he then stumbled into the sunlight
and burnt [out]

no one laced his pillows with lavender and moonbeams
and all the other things that call dreams out from
hiding; but he still prayed upside-down overdone
every evening for a falling star to find its way
back home.

instead, they surrounded him with [a grain of]
salt circles like curses to draw out the weaknesses
temptation had embedded in him, because
nothing beautiful was ever built atop a rotten

myths and the things that really matterin a season of wavering will
and ripe regret, I was born
too old - into a fragile world
of butterfly feathers and
springtime secrets, tied tenderly
around hollow hallucinations and
carefully called a "dream"

they promise you things
when you are too young to
understand the monsters under
your bed are really fragments
of you, left to disintegrate
in the dark. they say: you
will touch the world, you will
know the stars by name, you
will be our deliverance from
all the things we were not

you will be strong.

but they don't know, no,
I am a yard sale:

I sold my heart to a boy
with lilting lies and eyes
that looked human

Expectantwe're waiting

emaciated souls fall among the
promises of a better day,
memories drape like skeletons,
and we sleep, hands together,
to try and be pious prior to death.

we forgot how long it takes to take
a life, as we write novels about heroes
and purity that we're too afraid to call
myths. the art of distraction is a
nasty one, at that.

the clouds are rending, it's always
hurricane season when the trees cry and
the oceans mourn. the heavens are
caving on top of us as the children
dance in the rain. purged clean,
washed out, they were expecting to be

free- but there are still spiders in their
throats, crawling through th

WelcomeI'm ready for a romance to ravage my heart and tear apart my
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)

I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.

I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you

too.

I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
w

Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications are
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.

deceptions are beautiful
in the right words

because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]

they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin

(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)

cl

Vexed Affectionssecrets entwined,
sugared kisses lie (dormant)
her starry smile twinkles,
linen skin, fresh, unwrinkled,
"wear me"

bodies out back in rows,
stowed, head to toe, measured
by stature, counted by
statistic.
you are a number.

hearts quiver, splayed
openly beating
bleeding defeating
purpose and point, pain
holds no meaning,
crudely careening

you are a number

and sailor boy swoons, caught
in the tides of her moon.
quaky sea feet hold no
ground

he's drowning on land
breathing in sand
falling

she's already gone,
grave gusts at dawn
whisper

you knew it all along,
she's gone

you are only a number.

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She is SinShe walks to the beat of our fearful feet
The air grows stale with the scent of her skin
Her lies are her only feature that's sweet

She longs for our weaknesses, what a treat
She gnaws on the hearts and souls of fallen
She walks to the beat of our fearful feet

It's my job to warn anyone she meets
Entranced by her, I tell them "She is sin.
Her lies are her only feature that's sweet."

I continue: "Patterns always repeat.
You must be careful, with her you can't win.
She walks to the beat of our fearful feet."

They deny it, then at last claim their defeat
What they still don't know would make their heads spin
(Her lies are her only

The Loveliest DissonanceI need a guy with a smile so contagious
it would take a vaccination to subdue.
He'll have a brain so deep it could hold the world
and a mind so curious it would try to.
He'll need to be hopelessly optimistic, always searching the skies
in hopes of finding shooting stars, and he'll have dreams for eyes
He'll make the stupidest jokes and laugh at all my quirks
he'll pull silly faces just to try and make me smirk
I need a guy who's thoughtful and slightly crazy
and who sings songs because he believes he lives the words.
He'll prefer a girl who spends hours star gazing
to a girl who spends hours in front of the

Can't You Help Me?"I don't know what to do, I've lost it all. It's at a point where it feels like a miracle I just have a voice. After all the things that have gone, my voice just feels unnatural coming from my empty insides. Still, what good is it when I've run out of things to say?"

"Well," Carol said, turning on her side and recrossing her legs. She searched intently into my face and wrote some notes down. She looked up again, but shut her eyes. "What is it you feel you've lost?" Carol wrung her wrists a few times before noticing what she was doing, and grabbing her water instead. I make her very nervous.

&#

The Words I Wish I'd SaidShe said:
    "No, you have to go.
    I just moved on, it took me
    tears and time and scars I can't get back.
    Do you know how hard it is
    to have your heart dull your senses
    until the line is blurred between
    truth and lies?
    So, even though
    you know you're being dumb
    you're frozen in place-
    you can't move.
    Your heart's too full with

Serenade of Sighsyou speak in sighs, because life is so strenuous
   waiting
      waiting
         for the rapture to come
you've spent your life preparing
   for events you pray (need) to exist
don't hang your head
or you'll never see tomorrow
delete
   delete
      all evidence of failure
   because.... that's how you move on?
     But who could delete scars.
life is an adventure, but you're too busy
   waiting for a rapture
  &

Hopeful HummingSometimes it's easier to shut your eyes
just plug your ears, and hum over the noise.
When reality in life is your demise,
the best you can do is try and keep poise.

Just plug your ears and hum over the noise:
sing a sweet song to lighten heavy hearts.
The best you can do is try and keep poise,
even when you feel like falling apart.

Sing a sweet song to lighten heavy hearts-
some solace in a world filled with chaos.
Even when you feel like falling apart,
know that out there, someone feels just as lost.

Some solace in a world filled with chaos-
when reality in life is your demise.
Know that out there, someone feels just as lost..

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Submitted: November 30, 2012
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Seemingly Intrinsic

by *intricately-ordinary, Nov 30, 2012, 8:12:45 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

the November sky trembles and she's
out sleeping on the railroad tracks, again,
where no one hears her staggered breaths
and stuttered dreams

she promised she'd be back in a few
summers, once the war raging within
her ribcage finally called it quits
(she's so close to raising that white flag,
her fingers plead)

tightrope walkers never feel free, she's bound
by the internal pulsation of her heart, going
stagnant as she gives away the pieces of
herself to people who see her as nothing more
than the wide-eyed doll in the corner, yet
unnamed, forsaken by children with better
things to do

and perhaps these are intrinsic qualities
carved into your bones before you are born,
maybe her parents created her with a
tendency to fail and to cry for silent nights,
and she's right to stop asking questions –
who's and why's are not proper vocabulary
for spirits just whispering through.

these persistent storms overwhelm her ability
to breathe, but she ~~knows~~ was taught
it's alright, it's really alright to be
wasted by thunder as long as you can
emanate rainbows when the weather clears.

sometimes she recites lullabies by memory
about the happily ever afters that fill her
dreams and those sickly sweet promises that
act like medicine for wounded girls who
believe too hard.

they've misdefined her, because it's what
they do best. they never saw the galaxies
in her eyes, they only counted the scars
down her spine (and told her
wounds aren't classy)

her constellation composure and sea-songs were
never enough, so she traded her secrets
in for monetary value; and no one knows
she's built of dollar store stories and overused
clichés, no one sees she's the most brilliant shade
of reverie to ever grace their dull canvas.

They do not revere her, They do not share
a single word with her, but one day, They
will write her the loveliest memorial.

Seemingly Intrinsicby *intricately-ordinary

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

This is my dedication to the lovely

She's going to be off deviantART till January, but she still inspires me every single day. I tried to write like I imagine she would (do forgive me if it's not nearly as good as her own.)

`FuzzyHoser Dec 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This is beautiful.

*intricately-ordinary Dec 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much!

`FuzzyHoser Dec 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

My pleasure! (:

*lantern-rose Dec 10, 2012 Professional Writer

Beautiful! And a lovely dedication! You both are such wonderful poets!

*intricately-ordinary Dec 10, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much!

You all inspire me so much, I figured I'd just do one huge poem about how much she influences me because I've been missing her c:

*lantern-rose Dec 10, 2012 Professional Writer

You're welcome! ^^ You did a beautiful job, I know she will love it!

=ZaquiaStorm Dec 6, 2012

So much love. I put it off and put it off reading this, leaving it and your others since in my messages, because I always read your works (even though I delete all other literature that shows up in my deviantWATCH messages), and I just now got to it. Now I can't figure out why I didn't read it sooner.

*intricately-ordinary Dec 6, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I'm still so honored you read all my works ;u;
thank you so so much!

=ZaquiaStorm Dec 7, 2012

But of course! I'd have to beat myself up if I didn't, your works are the best!

~Haanyaan Dec 4, 2012 Student Writer

Excuse your perfection *dies*

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