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Day 1in my hands i hold
the first shot burns as it flows
down my throat and then to my head
whiskey is my wine and vodka is my bread.
they cheer me on: drink another, drink again
and when i am all alone i just pretend.
it may not taste like love but it is all i know
the feeling cradles me as i sink down below.
the girl with the scars on her arms and heart
she forgets herself slowly, part by part.
every laugh that escapes as the cups go down
is one more laugh away from being drowned,
when they ask me if i am really okay,
if i really should drink anymore today,
my eyes meet theirs with a hallow smile on my face:
alcohol is not my problem, it's me wanting
to be erased.
a series of imperfectionsa series of imperfections marks my existence:
i am too short to reach for the sky
i am too heavy to leap up and fly,
i am too dark to see the into the light
i am too feminine to put up a fight.
at least, that's what they try to make me believe:
you need to know that we do not value you,
you need to know what we say is absolutely true,
you need to stay back where you are placed,
you need to give in and be erased.
in this society i am a blemish and yet here i am:
i stand with my arms reaching as high as they may,
i jump up to fly day after day
i look in the mirror and see only shine,
i am a woman and i protect what is mine.
Just Say ItThe room was silent as Alex stared around at his plain dorm walls. It was 10 PM on a Friday night and there he was studying for German class. With a sigh the thin boy leaned back in his chair and looked down at his vocabulary list.
"Ich liebe..." he began attempting to practice his pronunciation.
Before he could really get into saying what he liked though, the door shot open. Alex's blue eyes shot up in surprise as he saw his tanned skinned roommate burst through the door with a broad smile.
Raji's black hair hung wetly down the side of his head as he exclaimed, "Alex you'll never guess what I've gotten!"
Unsure what Raji could have gotten while taking a shower before he went out for his usual night on the town, Alex brushed his hand through his blond hair and sighed, "I don’t know Raji, did some guy sneak in there and give a blow job or something?"
The tall male smirked, "I wish." Then he hurried over to Alex's desk and crossed his arms triumphantly, “No what I’ve go
It feels so delicious
The nothing resting
At my center
At my core.
Every unappetizing rumble
Reminds me how close I am
To being bright
To becoming better
Than what I use to be.
The fatigue always kicks,
Tears at my brain.
Though the bones peek beautifully
Through my pallid skin
My body cannot function
On what I don't put in.
The blackouts do scare me
When they decide to pop up
Once I was in class learning,
No food for two days.
In Algebra I guess that must equal
Running to the restroom
And collapsing into waste.
There's doctors who want to diagnose me
Who want to stick me in a pin
With little tubes of 'nourishment'
So the disgusting fat can win.
Like hell I'll let them though,
I'm fine as fine can be...
I don't need you to help me.
BeautyBeauty beauty beauty
They say beauty does not matter.
They are fucking liars.
My large nose clashes
With their scuplted norm
My broad little shoulders
Are simply out of form.
Were I a foot taller
Were I skinny and clean
Then maybe, perhaps
The world wouldn't be so
And maybe boys wouldn't run
At the sight of my
Imperfect wild hair
If beauty didn't matter
Then Seventeen Magazine wouldn't
Make me wanna care
To hide my ugly face
Or losing 5 pounds
Till I barely take up space.
They keep telling me
Those beautiful people do
"Its alright to be be ugly"
Well, I guess
Someone has to.
Headphones Tell the TruthDear Diary,
When you still hate someone,
lovethem just as much.
Though you pass them in the hallways
And pretend you don't know them,
The music blaring from your headphones
Tells the truth:
Adele, Christina Perri, Abba
Someone like You, Arms, the Winner Takes it All.
Who knew there were so many
Broken hearted songs?
Songs for girls like you who've
Let their heart win
And lost all they thought they had?
When you hate someone so much your heart hurts,
Then diary, I believe,
You may be keeping yourself from
Such lovely, other songs.
FriendshipI hope you're reading this,
But you're probably not.
Because you can't be bothered with caring
That might make you realize
What an asshole you are.
I'm not here to call names though
No, that's the last thing I'd ever want to do
At least, to you.
What I'm here for is not to grovel on my knees either
It's not to say how much I miss
Your anger, your hate, your unjustified envy.
The reason I'm here is just to promise
I'm just not perfect
It's to assure you
I cry at night when no one's looking,
I lose myself in the flow,
Sometimes I think I'm not me anymore,
But I am, I am,
I'm becomming everything I'm supposed to
No, I'll never hate you again.
No matter what,
I won't hate you.
And I won't be jelous, and I won't love,
Honestly I feel sorry for you.
Because you are so very sad,
Just like me.
Yeah, I Hate My ParentsYeah,I hate my parents.
Like every other teenager,
I wallow in angst and ask why in the world
I was born to such screw ups.
Her shiny fake smile to the world,
Her irked real face
Her complaining and whining
Her lack of any sort of parental responsilbilty.
She's a teenager just like me.
One moment we're friends
The next I wish I had someone who would stop me
Who would worry,
I don't want a friend for a mother.
His cynical view of the world
His phone calls once every year
His guilt stained Christams money
Finally remembering his sperm created a breathing creature.
He's a teenager just like me.
One moment we're friends
The next I wish I had a Daddy to spoil me
Like in one of those
Cheesy father daughter movies.
My self important feelings of loneliness
My blame that I enjoy dishing out but not gulfing down
My heart which reach outs to Mom and Dad
To stop short once it remembers every let down they ever put me through.
I'm just a teenager
One moment I
To: YouThrough my fingers slip your grasp
It happens fast
And I taste the past
Like metal, and thorns, and a three week old donut
It leaves a nasty after taste.
You never knew where you were treading
All I saw was
The direction you weren't heading.
It was far from me and closer to her
What was I to do?
It's been months now since I've heard
Since you made
Do you miss me?
I doubt it.
Did you kiss me?
I'm left here alone contemplating the difference
Between love and lust
Between hurt and humour
Sometimes I look at your number still on my cellphone and smile
Then I remember the last phone call we had,
And how much it
Thought I'd never be here again
Thought I was as strong as superman, superwoman, or whatever
But you really screwed me up, jerk.
I don't know what love is any more,
Thanks to you.
I'm scared I'll fall again
Into a deeper hole that's not even love at all.
What do I do?
What love is true?
I hate this, I hate you,
As much as I hate the fact
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More