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Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
But at least it makes me
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.
It spreads, like fire,
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.
I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?
What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –
You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival
(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)
We fight for our dream.
We're just waiting to die.
The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.
The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.
So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?
Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?
Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"
She does not have,
She has many of them.
A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.
If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.
She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.
She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
she will smile,
because she is truly happy alone.
She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.
lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
and I'm drowning
in the sky.
My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.
There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.
There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.
We are the King and Queen of Broken DreamsStanding still in a mine field, staring at all we have left.
We were so young, we didn’t stop to think.
Now we’re in a car crash, teetering on the brink.
If you were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.
It was a whirl wind romance,
A light when all was black, a spark of something when all was bleak.
You swept me off my feet and made me feel brand new.
I thought we could live forever and I’m certain you did to.
We built a house without foundations
And now we’re falling down,
Everything’s crumbling around us, time slipping through out fingertips.
People used to walk past us but they were to drunk to see,
That our lives are coming apart around us, there is no light as far as we can see.
There was no fire to start with,
Just two broken things, the world had left behind.
The casualties of other people’s dreams of power, money and control,
Spat out onto the curb to rot away and die.
We never stood a chance or so
of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;
this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).
You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.
So what do you do?
You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
(But beauty isn’t everything)
Falling off the EdgeDo you know what it feels like?
To nearly fall off the edge,
but not quite...
just so that you're dangling;
clinging for your worthless life
lest it fall into the sea of loneliness.
Your callused, pink fingers turning
to a shade of purplish-red of pain
as it does it best to hold on.
In the sea of loneliness,
everything is crisp, translucent.
There is nothing around you,
you are alone...
unlike other people,
you have no one
clamouring to save you;
you have no one
diving in to get you out.
There is no point
screaming for help,
you will only waste
the little time and air you have left.
You only have the darkness
of the sea envelop
Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
(and that thought gives me
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
PerfectEver had the feeling where you can't stop looking at a picture?
Your gorgeous face makes me smile
Go weak at the knees
Makes me giggle like a little girl
Those morning texts
All day conversations
Random silly things like that
Make me smile
I see the led light flash the colours I've set for when I get a message from you
My heart flutters
My cheeks flush
I go deaf to the world when I'm reading a message from you
If your down
I'm always there for you
I know you don't want to worry me
I know you want me to smile
But I'm always here for you
No matter how you feel
I'd prefer to help
Than for you to be down
Your gorgeous eyes
A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn
Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school
Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory
weight of the worldand suddenly--
it was like the world decided that
it didn't want to carry its burden any longer,
so it shifted the weight
into the hollows of my bones
and told me that
it was my problem now.
UntitledThere is a loneliness that can
come to subsistence in man
deeper than the great
submarine sinkhole of Belize;
a crawling phthalo blue sadness
stolen off of a Picasso palette
of familiar numbing pains.
I recall having heard them
as they bid adieu- to me,
another newly extinct species;
some of us are meant for doom
like stellar sea cows, with only
our skeletal frames remaining.
Our squeaks muted all too soon
in the darkness of the shade.
So it goes: life can drag
a few of us blow by blow,
skewing our limbs and broiling
our skins by very heavy venom.
For The Sun's Death, AnythingIn my black cocoon,
The only light casting an outline over my chest and hands,
My eyes are tired from the solo techno-aura,
But I can’t sleep, not for now.
I sometimes like to sit in this dark room,
This solid, silent black cocoon,
And let the smoke become a soothing cloak around my shoulders,
Whispering secrets in my ear that no one else will ever hear.
I sometimes dream in this dark room,
This sweet, dangerous cocoon,
That I will emerge from the morning’s mist and witness the Sun’s deadly act,
Her blood spilling across the sky as if she tore her orange wrist.
And as the Wind cried out her name, and the Moon lifted his
That Song“Fly me to the moon”
I remember that sunny day,
The bright noon sun gleaming down on the blinding-silver bleachers,
You facing me, your head tilting as you sang,
Your song carrying and drifting around me that hazy day,
Your voice singing that song that will forever haunt me…
“Fill my heart with song”
I’ll hold my head high,
And pretend that I’ve forgotten,
Pretend that you don’t invade my mind,
Pretend that you didn’t abandon me...
I’ll smile and laugh and sing, oh so cheerfully…
“Let me sing forever more…”
I’ll just keep singing,
Addiction To...LoveSlowly slipping ivory fingers around the glass,
A peeking eye above the sliver,
A quick prick of a frost-bitten shiver,
The tears of such a beastly heart are flames licking my skin.
Too timid to admit the pain,
I fall to my knees in the obvious shadow,
Letting these tears of gasoline ignite upon the painted scene,
And excuse my blood’s habit of finding our perfect poison.
I am the Victorian-doll who hollows her chest for her prince-charmings,
I give my all, I tear my clothes, I do all but open my eyes to the price of strange love,
I excuse behavior for the sake of pride, for the sake of being alone otherwise…
I am hopeless, and
Am I The Only One? Can You....?Stepping onto the graveled path,
Can you taste it?
That smokey wondrous taste of life,
Of sunshine on a warm day,
Of the steam of a cup of mint tea,
Of the laughter of your love,
And the grit of sand on your skin on an orange beach.
Resting on a shifting shoreline,
Under the sun’s lazy gaze,
Can you hear it?
That beautiful rhythm of life,
Of your heartbeat connecting you to the water’s thrum,
Of the bells of a church off in the distance, thick resonating tones that are deep and red like pomegranate seeds,
Of the sighs of newborn children in their cribs,
And excited shrieks of young ones prancing through woode
My Vision for Those Blind to BeautyI always hear people say that we’re only dreamers.
That we can’t change our fate and everything is meant to happen for a reason.
But I think all of us can feel what we are meant to be.
What part of us yearns to be inside.
Whether your heart pounds to the music of twanging strings and hollowed harmony,
Or your eyes follow the paint brushes’ path so closely,
Your hands sculpting the perfect piece, telling a story with your hands and fingertips in ways your voice cannot.
Isn’t that what we’re doing? Trying to find ways to create and tell our stories?
Some people have their stories told through family or awards,
I Never Knew of Grief Like ThisSlowly the cord pulls down inside,
Like onyx lead coating my blood,
A darkened sheet tied to my heart, goes deeper then I’ve felt before.
I never knew grief tasted like salt and bit back like cold metal.
I never knew the tears would fall down on these smudged, worn keys,
And no concern for electricity existing…
I never knew that my blood could run cold,
And my skin shake and quiver with every wracking breath…
Every thought goes to those days,
When shortened footprints in the sand led to the swaying waves,
When crystal bowls of stemmed rubies lay out waiting for a young girl’s gaze…
When his laugh warmed up t
Drifting MemoriesPulling covers over chilled shoulders,
Closing my eyes to the setting sun,
I feel my lips pinch in a small smile,
As I remember everything about you that makes my days special.
Every moment spent, every text sent,
I smile, knowing that you are mine,
And I sleep into dreams of holding your hand,
And kisses in courtyards,
Darkened rooms and bleachers,
Special memories take my hand,
And guide my heart to the reasons why I need you.
As long as I can dance the dance of both worlds,
Tread that fine line and remember my lies,
You'll be mine, and I'll be yours.
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More