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About Literature / Student Core Member sometimes girl.19/Female/Unknown Recent Activity
Deviant for 3 Years
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the reasons I keep going back to this pen, paper, typewriter. :heart:

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with so much love.



your-methamphetamine writes poetry that punches the reader in the gut. It is heart-wrenchingly real, and it never fails to move me. It is evocative and poignant, getting the truth of the matter in both astounding and unsurprising, both straight-forward and back-alley entrances: she utilizes all of these approaches and leaves the reader gasping, breathless for more. Check out her gallery!!
-- travelgirlxx

your-methamphetamine creates a new world with each piece the pens. It's as if she opened a door into her mind and is letting you view her intimate thoughts. The images in each of her writings are gorgeous beyond measure, letting the reader visualize perfectly what she is trying to convey, and imagine exactly what feelings she had when she was writing the piece.
-- DrippingWords

your-methamphetamine writes with amazing intrigue. Her pieces are at once heartwrenchingly revealing and mysterious – they beg to be read and reread until the lovely haze is cleared leaving the characters exposed and related to. The words fit together as if they could not be arranged any other way which lends a natural cadence to them.
-- 0hgravity



sometimes girl.
Artist | Student | Literature
Always learning. Poet first. Everything else, second. Nice to meet you.



Let me submit, allow my transit-white volatility to find
solid loam for our summer migrations; roam, dearest,

map your birthmark coordinates on the underside
of my craving womb. Cast me a depraved siren--
pronounce your genuflection Charley; I see
my endlessness in your clear reflections.

I will breathe a hurricane down your drowned navel,
strike your knotty silences with our pleased whispers,
keep your muses away from eyeing sailors and poised 
amnesia to the hunger behind my psithurisms in return.

Let us grace these infinite spaces with our intersecting
gravities; write us epics of soulmates as you turn each
of my limbs into braille embossers. We will devour

this once, senseless in-sync mocking until

this ache becomes restful, our vocal cords 
inspire cohesively and these held-back bodies
succumb to our arsonist dreams.
my murder, your unkindess
similar-singularity believes this is poetry. That's all the validation I'll need.
I fell for it. if you like what you see and read here, give it a like perhaps? I don't need millions of likes at all just a nice, quiet place for my work. (:
despite the middle school teacher
coursing through my mother's body,
I have become an overwriter.

I remember how her back looked,
arched over me like protection from bad handwriting. I learned to hold a pencil her way,
my eyes were supposed to be half
a foot away from the page
just so my back would never need to.

my rebellion started with the i's, no longer
were they dotted an eyelash away from the body--
they were rounded like water for lost
men in the desert.

and when I learned to conjugate,
the i's stopped existing. they became funnels of deceit -- an afterthought
of a tree trunk I was too distracted by the leaves
to draw-- feeling my mother's eyes
bore into my temples, "how can you overwrite an i?
how can you forget yourself?"

I don't know when I lost letters between
joining them. it was supposed to be shorthand
never the short end of the stick;

I promise I'll find the patience
to dot them like they deserve
and write their civil, umbrella-curve
can't decide if this is pretentious or actually good? yeah.
I never thought less of tattoos than
When we were exchanging notes on our
Missing spines.
Two times, three, four-- and now I
Scream, I've been to cities renowned for
Love. Love, looking isn't the same
As having.
Home, love, candles when not needed,
Wine, and symbols of equal
I longed for letters written of
letters written on
My chilly muscles and the abstinence of
paper when it needs that least--
When I need that least.
I whispered to comets headed
your way and became
hopelessly addicted to
the sound of the wind off
the ocean.
(We never were good at letting velvet skies be)

I think about tattoos more than I think
of your dimples of Venus
as they disappeared when you bent
and took the weakness in my knees with you.
I can see now how your hair
inks the wind on the shoreline,
how you hear nothing but its descent
and needless rise--
I know now
how hard you listened for the tear
of the moon's tendons
as it pulled
and pulled
the tide till we washed
(I could never tell the sky apart from the sea.)

Dimples, sweet stories painted on--
around-- dimples.
Did you know of my alabaster tattoos
before you asked why I draw the wind?
While the bow and violin belong
to me, the hair the bow is
made of is not mine own.
I live on coasts where buildings
are made of Venus dreams and
once weak knees now knowing that
sea and sky are the same.
One made from the other.
I have heard the tide, but only
seen, never heard, the celestial
in you.
(... if I asked for another sky?)

if you made the wind, what made you stick
the scent of you so deep in my siren-ears
I can smell you if I breathe too deep?
at least dimples are just dents
of a happiness I try to slip
into ago; how would you carry my sea-bed
in your arms with no arrow to stretch from me?
I am fetally yours, here
anxious and aching for another sky
too afraid for asking

let me say that I miss your Neptune eyes

(I would gladly give you the sun.)
I'm supposed to be studying.

which is basically why this place hasn't been updated in at least forever.

how are you all? a lot's been new with me.

1. I am now officially a second year medical student which means I am still at the bottom of the medical food chain but I have a bunch of maggots looking up to me for advice and all I can manage to say is, stay bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I don't really know why.

2. it's been a very eventful year for my writing, thank everything holy. I got my first print publication at Slim Volume: This Body I Live In and I had the honor of opening the book with my poem that also won the first Islamabad Poetry Slam. you can watch it here!

3. I am still horrible at friends but that means I'm still figuring myself out.

4. I am a lot less angry and take things personally. while it is an infj thing I don't think it's good for me as a physician. I care too much and I don't know what to do with all my feelings a lot of the time.

5. writing a bunch of poems a day is either hard work or heartbreak and thankfully, over the years they have become one and the same.

6. come March, my teen years will come to an end. I am both terrified and excited and I feel like I've waited my whole life for these years to be over. It's been a wonderful, horrifying run and I can't wait for the next.

7. I think about this place a lot.

8. tell me about how you are. I'd love to write you a poem.




Add a Comment:
roylapost Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2015
Have I told you that you're awesome lately ?

Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart Heart 
(1 Reply)
the-solimnludic Featured By Owner Jun 16, 2015  Student Traditional Artist
Hi there! I know this is kind of random, but I was looking through my favorites for a song that either you or Gravity posted (I'm pretty sure in a journal or something). ...I don't really remember what it was about, just spoken word, this guy rapping about a girl with some beautiful music playing in the background. It was a link to another website, I'm pretty sure. Sorry if that doesn't narrow it lot, but I was just wondering if you'd remember.
I just remember that I really liked it and would love to hear it again.

Sorry for bothering you...have a lovely day and take care, alright? :heart:
(1 Reply)
roylapost Featured By Owner May 5, 2015
Missing you SOOOOOOOOOO much.
Dragonlover84 Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
I got here from another deviant, fuzzyhoser. From a link I heard your beautiful spoken poetry. Milady, you have a wonderful talent for the written word, and I am most pleased to become a watcher. I look forward to more of what is to come as I wander through your gallery. :) :heart:
(1 Reply)
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Mar 8, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday :heart:
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