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Scribble for MeI could write tonight
in a hundred words
or a thousand tongues
could I write tonight.
I could, romanticise tonight.
the stranger conversation,
because there's a kiss of cool breeze against my skin
and I can smell the rain that's setting in.
I miss petty nonsense
the things that weren't tangible;
dreams that crept under covers
and other, old lovers.
made with the heart
were later shot down, before poetry could start.
Prayers weren't without meaning,
answers rang true
and always, of course
my thoughts were of you.
When today is the dream of tomorrow,
and tomorrow is the fantasy of today.
Living in moments, that are constantly astray.
Beauty in time,
words without beat.
as slow motion tumbling
to never again stop at your feet.
Empty Wine BottlesToo much fear,
not enough hope
and what tomorrow brings
none of us know.
your kiss is on my mind
and while, from my lips
I wish you'd ignore
I wish you'd demand
I wish you'd try.
it's too much
and I understand.
Neither of us dare bare
when it all goes wrong.
For wrong it must go.
So I shall believe.
So I shall know.
So you shall trust.
And hence we will end
before we let a beginning take seed.
Empty Lock BoxThough our tale is long ended
tears still threaten at the thought of you,
as though it were but yesterday
that saw you steal my heart away.
We could play all night long
forever avoiding, even fearing dawn.
And you would taunt
yes, you would tease
knowing how I need to please.
I never thought yo check my heart
resting perilously up above
unlooked upon, unnoticed, unloved..
And for a while I thought
I must have got it back.
But thoughts of you still ebb and flow,
they remind me of that thing I lack.
Twas to be your possession
that, though forgotten now
against my will
and against my want
seems to have remained yours, somehow..
Euphoric UnknowingSmoke swirls.
It whispers secrets
you wish were lies
and fogs the truth
before your eyes.
Everywhere is nowhere again
Drift past the eyes of a watching friend
Mumbled, muddled, maybe mulled
Wash the guilt away with suds
Twisted words lose little sense
To twist your words makes little sense
Chase a rabbit down a hole
Where, oh where did that world go?
One part fantasy and daydreams,
One part peaceful delirium,
One part me and nothing more.
Where, oh where did my world go?
Aim for happy,
settle at content.
And suddenly I'm spent.
More I wish I had to say,
but nothing do I find.
It seems that life today
is not the same I left behind.
Pirate BayI've been hunting
for an inspiration
it appears was left behind
in the pieces of my heart
that I left behind in you.
You'll find traces on your fingertips,
where once you held my hand.
You might feel it tingle on your lips,
my old favourite playground.
Perhaps you'll notice portions trapped in the defenses
that kept your heart safe and sound.
Now ink, not blood
flows freely from my pen tip.
I knew I was flirting with disaster
but nothing could make me stop
and though I was courting the cliff edge
I was still terrified of the drop.
And now you're the home I can no longer visit,
the safety cord that finally snapped,
the security blanket that
I'm now remembering how to live without.
Over and Over AgainAttitude in place,
Haughty and Rude.
Stronger then you,
tougher, braver too.
Be what you are,
need to be.
Just to get by,
get through today.
Don't hold my hand,
you've got it wrong
you need the help.
I've been fine all along.
Inattention all the time.
Because you're bigger then it all,
Hopeless and Helpless.
We wrote those words
You felt those words,
We can stilt walk above it.
Or we can wade right on through it.
because you're oh-so-likely to get stuck in it.
And I am oh-so-not interested in saving you, again
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
ConfrontationI shed a tear
The damage will be severe
Run away in fear?
I'll fight until the coast is clear!
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
Broken FingertipsJust looking for a shoulder to lean on
A supporting hand
it's all more then I can stand.
Sorrow in the world
pounds against my beating heart
and I feel my breathing shallow
and I feel my eyes drop
and I hold out to steady you
Set in stone
is not my way
Nor am I flexible
my heart, my mind, my choices
have always been hard to sway.
Forever the spectator
of your beautiful world..
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More