ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Daily Deviation
Literature Text
I lace my skin up like a corset, peel back the blinds on my eyelids, and take a step forward, waking from the poppies to the
lightning bug glow of truth tapping on my eardrums.
In front of the mirror I stand, but what I notice is not the awkward crook of my nose or butterfly lashes. I look into the lighted mirror as if searching for answers hidden under
Ribbon-like sets of
veins, arteries and nerves.
Sometimes it all flows correctly; sometimes everything becomes
knotted up in all the wrong places. Skin toughened by beatings brought about by the
harsh world
around me. Yet it is the same skin that is softened by the warm touch of friendship and family.
An under-achieving mind, wandering and corroding in my daydreams of true love, the pursuit of happiness, and hopeless wishes to save the waking world.
An overworked heart, squeezing out far too many bloodied tears; it has been
patched up and reworked more than any first-time quilt makers' handiwork.
An erratic soul, constantly withering and being brought back to life at the mercy of lies and truth.
It's sad when your world is nothing but fabric & when you open your eyes you're just lost in the sent-spinning moon. I'll
close them
for a while until the particles align and the air doesn't feel so false. I hear honesty from bones and fingernails and the hairs on my arms, I hear truth in newborn babies that bubble staccatos and legatos,
And so I hope that we were not made for deceit.
And for once I'm starting to trust myself.
We live in a cosmos where it can never be about only you and me or just you or just me:
This erratic, chaotic, anaerobic, revolving oblate spheroid is home to even more
sand-spec existences
than we could ever care to know about.
I'll live with nimbus sparse between my toes, ballads of being resonating through
my ribs, and hope
grounded in the crowns of my teeth.
lightning bug glow of truth tapping on my eardrums.
In front of the mirror I stand, but what I notice is not the awkward crook of my nose or butterfly lashes. I look into the lighted mirror as if searching for answers hidden under
Ribbon-like sets of
veins, arteries and nerves.
Sometimes it all flows correctly; sometimes everything becomes
knotted up in all the wrong places. Skin toughened by beatings brought about by the
harsh world
around me. Yet it is the same skin that is softened by the warm touch of friendship and family.
An under-achieving mind, wandering and corroding in my daydreams of true love, the pursuit of happiness, and hopeless wishes to save the waking world.
An overworked heart, squeezing out far too many bloodied tears; it has been
patched up and reworked more than any first-time quilt makers' handiwork.
An erratic soul, constantly withering and being brought back to life at the mercy of lies and truth.
It's sad when your world is nothing but fabric & when you open your eyes you're just lost in the sent-spinning moon. I'll
close them
for a while until the particles align and the air doesn't feel so false. I hear honesty from bones and fingernails and the hairs on my arms, I hear truth in newborn babies that bubble staccatos and legatos,
And so I hope that we were not made for deceit.
And for once I'm starting to trust myself.
We live in a cosmos where it can never be about only you and me or just you or just me:
This erratic, chaotic, anaerobic, revolving oblate spheroid is home to even more
sand-spec existences
than we could ever care to know about.
I'll live with nimbus sparse between my toes, ballads of being resonating through
my ribs, and hope
grounded in the crowns of my teeth.
Literature
Lightning Bug Cosmos
I lace my skin up like a corset, peel back the blinds on my eyelids, and take a step forward, waking from the poppies to the
lightning bug glow of truth tapping on my eardrums.
In front of the mirror I stand, but what I notice is not the awkward crook of my nose or butterfly lashes. I look into the lighted mirror as if searching for answers hidden under
Ribbon-like sets of
veins, arteries and nerves.
Sometimes it all flows correctly; sometimes everything becomes
knotted up in all the wrong places. Skin toughened by beatings brought about by the
Literature
London Bridge is Falling Down
It is one o'clock
And I have been playing Jenga
For two years, eight months
Twenty-three days, four hours
And approximately fifteen
Minutes.
I slide books from their slots
One by one, the teetering tower
Becoming more teetering
And less towering.
All the poetry books are gone,
Stored underneath my bed,
Because I love reading them at
Three thirty in the afternoon,
When everyone is doing something
But me.
One day the wall of books
Will topple to the ground,
Onto my ashen carpet, for yesterday
The apocalypse had taken place
While I was washing dishes.
I guess I missed it, but luckily
The book tower is still standing,
And i
Literature
chroma
We were merely children when the stars came.
They rained down from the sky in a burst of light, like shards of glass pouring down from the heavens. Supernovas blooming in the night sky, petals raining down onto the barren earth - angels, falling with their wings sheathed, glowing, as they glided down. We watched, starstruck, as the glow overtook us - we were mesmerized. We waited with bated breath as the meteors landed, the celestial light subsiding as dark forms started to pick themselves up from the dust.
They moved towards us with an otherworldly grace, their steps leaving no marks on the earth as they descended upon us. Frozen to our sp
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Written by me and the lovely
We decided to keep you guys guessing about who wrote which part
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I WOULD SUPER LOVE TO SEE COMMENTS, THANK YOU!!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Critiques:
Which lines did you like the least?
Which lines did you like the most?
What do you think of the flow?
Was the poem too lengthy or too short or just right?
Additional comments
We decided to keep you guys guessing about who wrote which part
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I WOULD SUPER LOVE TO SEE COMMENTS, THANK YOU!!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Critiques:
Which lines did you like the least?
Which lines did you like the most?
What do you think of the flow?
Was the poem too lengthy or too short or just right?
Additional comments
© 2012 - 2024 Sammur-amat
Comments126
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This is amazing. I love the imagery in the piece.