ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
There's probably a reason why I can't say that I've known you since my elbows were just dimples on my arms. And that may be simply because the sky exchanged hemispheres four years into your birth but we're just on the opposite ends of a conventional compass. Though distance is a mixture of coarse wave and rugged land levels, there have been more in our union than the planet can already decorate on its face.
The international date line has a sharp, pungent sense of humor that gives and takes hours all at the expense of fuel on the plane you're on right now. All I can say is that you have the power to give me words and no control over when to take them. The ammonium of its irony - that blessed imaginary line - sublimes over time as tragedy transcends into broken, forced smiles. It should have made me bitter. It should have faked into nothing by now. But we're still here with crescent dimples so genuine they don't leave. It's not fear, it's the time. This longitudinal that somehow controls time has yet to control you and to obstruct your judgement.
You were not my true North; you just captured it so damned well on film. You needed silver and the Atlantic to make that possible. And you needed the sun to set before you realized it's just rising for me. You are not my first, I've had many Defiers of Time before you were welcomed to my unproven, often wrong equations. And you never had to be more than needy to stay. You could have been my mercury and helped rise in a capillary too thin to keep me down, even time knew that.
But you don't believe that, ammonium boy.
You believe in the disguise of blessings and ravines and you elope my senses more than my mind. You are no stranger to my relapses and no foe to my demeanor. So you didn't have to know me when my knuckles were just troughs of skin. You did not have to know me when I was suckling on the idea of a mother who didn't impair my speech. You did not have to know me when I did not know you.
All you needed was a day, a compass and an imaginary line.
The international date line has a sharp, pungent sense of humor that gives and takes hours all at the expense of fuel on the plane you're on right now. All I can say is that you have the power to give me words and no control over when to take them. The ammonium of its irony - that blessed imaginary line - sublimes over time as tragedy transcends into broken, forced smiles. It should have made me bitter. It should have faked into nothing by now. But we're still here with crescent dimples so genuine they don't leave. It's not fear, it's the time. This longitudinal that somehow controls time has yet to control you and to obstruct your judgement.
You were not my true North; you just captured it so damned well on film. You needed silver and the Atlantic to make that possible. And you needed the sun to set before you realized it's just rising for me. You are not my first, I've had many Defiers of Time before you were welcomed to my unproven, often wrong equations. And you never had to be more than needy to stay. You could have been my mercury and helped rise in a capillary too thin to keep me down, even time knew that.
But you don't believe that, ammonium boy.
You believe in the disguise of blessings and ravines and you elope my senses more than my mind. You are no stranger to my relapses and no foe to my demeanor. So you didn't have to know me when my knuckles were just troughs of skin. You did not have to know me when I was suckling on the idea of a mother who didn't impair my speech. You did not have to know me when I did not know you.
All you needed was a day, a compass and an imaginary line.
Literature
circumventing hearts
my frail ankles, wrists
are inversely proportional to
your broad shoulders, chest
so it goes
that
your touch, though tangential
comes at me
full-bodied, whole
whereas
your low
Literature
a guide to her sadness.
her wrists are wishbones she breaks for luck,
not knowing there is no luck in the break.
her veins are unanswered prayers
her lungs an apology sent as letters to heaven,
hoping God will forgive her for being a continual disappointment.
her head is a phonebooth for all the thoughts nobody's picking up on.
see,
the the sadness is sinking her again.
so when she leaves at midnight to longboard to the ocean,
go with her.
when she tries to climb bridges,
don't let her.
when she's drinking cold tea and playing daughter,
it means she's trying to pull her head together.
when she's in the bathroom praying to the toilet,
decide to knock.
when she
Literature
she marries my heartache tonight
the last time we parted ways
we also parted our
prying,
praying
lips
that had
crashed and capsized
into each other's ships,
one final time- for the kill
we drained each other
of blood,
tears and
will
you took and took
and for the fear of losing you,
i told myself
to never look back
at all i've bid farewell to
just to live in pretend peace
with you
and i watched you drift away
above sea level,
as i sunk further and rusted
like the wreckage that i am-
undone by your unkindness
miraculously,
they found that
scales,
poison stings and
gills
tried to grow
on my now abominable cadaver
and we were just another
titanic tragedy,
where
y
Suggested Collections
edit: reading done here: [link]
(keep the volume low, just to be on the safe side)
(keep the volume low, just to be on the safe side)
Comments43
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
is there another link to the reading? the one you have doesn't work anymore. ):