|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
LostIs this a sign of the end times?
Is the beauty gone from all we can say?
Is there a plague upon our hearts
Making us fear a kiss
Lest it infect us
Looking back as we walk away
Will we see tears
Will we hear screams
Will we feel pain
Wanting a message from a dove
With everything numb I still feel
An eye for an ear
Leaves us a bloodied mess
Does wonder fade?
A stone in the ocean
Eroding in the storm
I long to find the eye
The peaceful place
I’d give it all to hold your hand
Midnight Musings IVYou are the beauty that enlightens my soul;
the eros illuminating my vision.
You are what my heart beats for;
what my mind thought a myth.
You are the reason the flames lick my skin;
why the breeze visits.
You are the reagent of my heart;
the medium to my love.
DNRI want to die
I want to bleed
I want to feel everything inside gushing out
The stomach acid as it eats away at the tissue around it
I want to slice my femoral artery and my jugular at the same time and see which one produces more blood
My fingers are cut again and again
On the edges of these keys
The dust and dead skin is met with a crimson stain
Do you feel it?
Do you feel the tangible agony snapping my ribs and breaking through my sternum?
A rusty culmination of shrapnel tempered with the heat of cold isolation
I'm being crumpled up
A half-assed poetry assignment become the object of a high school student’s entertainment and test of skill as it is hurled through the stale classroom air toward the plastic grey bag-less net
The vertebrae on my neck pop
Embossed on my flesh
As my head lowers
To my core
Making its presence known
There is a sentient darkness inside me
A parasitic amoeba
Latching onto my bones and
Midnight Musings IIII often wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you.
Do you recollect your interactions with me while you lay in bed,
trying to remember how they felt, every touch every kiss we shared?
Do you go to sleep lonely when you spent a day without me?
Am I the last face you see in your mind as you drift off into your sweet dreams?
When you wake up early, before your alarm goes off, with the sun peeking into your room,
do you stretch out your arm and wish I was there, within reach, my head next to yours?
Do you envision kissing me as you rush out the door when you’re running late?
Do you daydream in class and imagine romantic afternoons with me,
at the waterfalls or canoeing along a river or watching the stars in the hayloft?
Am I there, in the back of your mind, when you’re out with your friends,
or when you’re spending time with the other guys who chase you?
Do you long to be next to me when you’re reading a good book, just to know I’m there?
Midnight Musings II3,000 miles away.
You can’t get much farther without leaving the country.
Hundreds of new faces every day.
I only picture yours when I lay my head down.
Dozens of unfamiliar beds prepared just for me.
They aren’t as nice as your small, uncomfortable, college-issued mattress.
Homemade meals every night.
I miss your mac ‘n cheese.
3,000 miles apart and I can still feel your spine-tingling kiss.
Midnight Musings II want to sit on the deck of our house on a beautiful spring afternoon, holding you as we enjoy the sun and the breeze and the smell of fresh air, and sing sweet songs to you.
I want to walk along a beach in our bare feet and pick you up and throw you in the water and then laugh as you chase me down.
I want to lay naked next to you, our bodies entwined, as we catch our breath and finally fall asleep with the light from the sunrise peeking through the blinds.
I want to goof off and laugh as we shop at whole foods, looking forward to the fantastic dinner I’m going to cook for you just because I like to see you smile.
I want to write poetry about you and the warm and vibrant colors you make me feel.
I want you to know, to truly know, in the deepest fiber of your being, that I love you with absolute honesty and all the romantic-yet-dorky feels I can muster.
I want you to know what that means.
That I have found someone who I can hardly believe is real.
That I am in disbelief that you
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
ConfrontationI shed a tear
The damage will be severe
Run away in fear?
I'll fight until the coast is clear!
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
How Did This Happen?How does happiness turn into loneliness?
The beautiful glow of her smile is lost,
bound in steel wire and tortured in the
same cold darkness that now hides her heart.
How does passion become apathy?
Once a kiss that stole from the lungs
and left the lips wet and wanting more;
now a kiss from a mouth dry and lips chapped,
breathing toxin - a kiss of death.
How does commitment fall silent?
The foundation always holds strong
through the trials of weather and time,
but housing fear and pain has
collapsed the walls that surrounded us.
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More