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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
September 18, 2013
time-spared drawers of dreams by *your-methamphetamine is beautifully warm and uplifting.
Featured by DorianHarper
Literature Text
i. someday the sight-starved
will find more than just the moon -
that i promise you.
will never be and
like liquid stars in the milky way,
smiles will seep down
into the oceans of your laughter.
never mind what they said
about shady equilibrium;
it's only man's insecurity.
truth is, there is no
karma -
no rule, no eyes
watching over you;
just the forgotten remains of the
god that falls on us
every time it rains.
ii. someday, my dear,
those cranes won't just be
an exhibition of folded paper -
and those tears you cry now?
[which you hate so much?]
will leak into my arterial walls
and tell me they only tell stories of ecstasy;
we just have yet to realize.
love, it won't be long
till autumn will not be as forgotten
and between these
multiple shades of grey, will rest
the emptiness within yo[us]
and the broken smiles
of a shattered yesterday.
iii. grieve not, sweet traveler -
our draining journey has just begun.
and though you have been without comfort for so long,
hold onto the strings
pulling your heart together,
for i am not far from home -
not far at all.
think of dancing star-light
across a sky enveloping a forest
that only tells stories of success
and nothing else.
good times await
on the other side of the
moonbeam you see.
i am not far, love;
you are not far from home.
iv. look toward the reflection
that you loathe so strongly.
see through my eyes -
my forlorn irises who can't see beyond truth and fact.
see how the years have been unkind
and how little
it
gave us in return
for what we lost,
you are not gone, love, you
are never
far
from home.
the voices will stop, and your drawers will close
before you notice,
before anyone knows.
and you'll find your eyes, your vision, insight.
think only of liquid stars in the milky way,
as smiles will seep down
into the oceans of your laughter.
because someday the sight-starved
will find more than just the moon -
that i promise you.
will find more than just the moon -
that i promise you.
we've seen all of what happiness
will never be and
like liquid stars in the milky way,
smiles will seep down
into the oceans of your laughter.
never mind what they said
about shady equilibrium;
it's only man's insecurity.
truth is, there is no
karma -
no rule, no eyes
watching over you;
just the forgotten remains of the
god that falls on us
every time it rains.
ii. someday, my dear,
those cranes won't just be
an exhibition of folded paper -
and those tears you cry now?
[which you hate so much?]
will leak into my arterial walls
and tell me they only tell stories of ecstasy;
we just have yet to realize.
love, it won't be long
till autumn will not be as forgotten
and between these
multiple shades of grey, will rest
the emptiness within yo[us]
and the broken smiles
of a shattered yesterday.
iii. grieve not, sweet traveler -
our draining journey has just begun.
and though you have been without comfort for so long,
hold onto the strings
pulling your heart together,
for i am not far from home -
not far at all.
think of dancing star-light
across a sky enveloping a forest
that only tells stories of success
and nothing else.
good times await
on the other side of the
moonbeam you see.
i am not far, love;
you are not far from home.
iv. look toward the reflection
that you loathe so strongly.
see through my eyes -
my forlorn irises who can't see beyond truth and fact.
see how the years have been unkind
and how little
it
gave us in return
for what we lost,
you are not gone, love, you
are never
far
from home.
the voices will stop, and your drawers will close
before you notice,
before anyone knows.
and you'll find your eyes, your vision, insight.
think only of liquid stars in the milky way,
as smiles will seep down
into the oceans of your laughter.
because someday the sight-starved
will find more than just the moon -
that i promise you.
Literature
Puddle-jumping
She looks through a puddle to the hole on the other side.
Some dreams fell down there a while ago, and if she can just snag a little of the bright ribbon at their tails, perhaps she could follow them in there.
I mean, it looks quite nice, what with all the blue glowing back at her pigtails, and the
clouds seem quite friendly. I wonder if they know hide and seek?
So in she jumps, wellies and all, but somehow only manages a splash and a splutter, and a muddy pattern over her socks.
But it doesn't matter - there's always tomorrow. She'll try again then.
For it's sad, really, when others look into puddles and all they expect to see is t
Literature
Late Night Cereal
She texted me to ask for milk,
A query so surreal,
For she was of the hungry ilk
Who craved for cereal.
Alas, I had no milk but soy,
Which she was wary to deploy
Within her bowl,
Within her bowl,
Her face showed she did not taste joy.
Oh Special K! 'Twas not the day
She meant for you to swim
With Mister Two-Percent, and play
Your tasty games with him.
The box was done, your final breath
Could only end in runny death.
No creaminess,
No creaminess,
A soggy grave was all she left.
All times, both good and bad, must end
In peacefulness or pain.
One moment, by your side a friend,
The next, gone and estranged.
While we still live, let's take cont
Literature
a lie that tells the truth
please don’t write me as a ghost girl,
all blurry lines and faded features
that caricature themselves into the minds
of those that think they see me--
i am not a canvas.
my life is not a blank sheet for you
to paint your vision across,
and i have no wires in my bones--
you cannot pose me so i’ll catch the light
just so,
like a kaleidoscope of clever quirks
and tragic backstories;
i am written in the words i discard
when i write bad poetry at 3am, and if you look,
you can find me echoed back to you
in my all time top five favorite movies.
i am the way my hands hurt
when i get nervous;
i am the urge to speak italian,
even though
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full title: to anyone who ever opened time-spared drawers of dreams.
This was actually written over a year ago for a friend who only liked to disappoint me, and though it was written for someone who never existed, I think it's still one of the better things I had written. My words are...scarce. Not entirely gone but not entirely there.
So since the feeling behind this poem is still alive, as poor and sappy the execution may be, this is now newly dedicated to *0hgravity for being one of the greatest friends I've had in a very long time.
--
edit: thanks for the DD, guys i'm truly, truly honored to have my second <3
This was actually written over a year ago for a friend who only liked to disappoint me, and though it was written for someone who never existed, I think it's still one of the better things I had written. My words are...scarce. Not entirely gone but not entirely there.
So since the feeling behind this poem is still alive, as poor and sappy the execution may be, this is now newly dedicated to *0hgravity for being one of the greatest friends I've had in a very long time.
--
edit: thanks for the DD, guys
i'm truly, truly honored to have my second <3 © 2013 - 2024 your-methamphetamine
Comments107
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I know I've commented before, but every time this appears in my shuffle of favourites, I'm astounded all over again by this piece.
Gods, I wish I'd written this....
Moves the heart of me, every time.
Gods, I wish I'd written this....
Moves the heart of me, every time.