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TEN PILLSThe first pill
The normal dose
Enough to take the edge off of everyday life
Enough to satisfy the demons from ripping me apart from the inside out
But the thing about demons is, they are greedy
Eventually they want more
The second pill
Just a little extra to try and sooth this broken heart
See, when you left me, my world crumbled into little pieces of memories
They slowly fell like ashes in a nuclear winter
The third pill
The demons want more
Your love for me was the barrier holding them back
Now that your gone, the damn has broke
Demons are poring in like millions of mindless zombies searching for a life to devour
And it seems they have found one
The fourth pill
You… my angel
My soothing light shining through a hole in my black canvas of life
has given up on me
I can’t see the hole anymore
The light is gone
My way out is no longer visible
I’m in darkness
The fifth pill
Fuck it, lets keep going!
The sixth pill
This one is for every time I could feel you fucking him
Upon My Last BreathIs the loss of love worth gaining death?
I ask this question upon my last breath
As the pulse of life fades to dark
Peace arises in this tortured heart
Confessing weakness in my cowardly choice
The pain is gone as I hear your voice
Depression is lost as I see your face
I close my eyes and feel your embrace
So warm, so comforting, this moment of bliss
Everything fades as I feel your last kiss
Although I know you're really not there
I leave with a smile in this moment we share
Is the loss of love worth gaining death?
I answer with "yes" upon my last breath
Rise of the unspoken words,
Filling your head.
They burst into existence,
In the form of emotional combat.
Hints are subtle.
Allegations are stirring.
Assumptions are vibrant.
What's left to be known?
Everything that was never said.
A Conversation PieceThe old gas lamp juts out from the living room wall
Empty of life, empty of its purpose,
Original in its old, ornate shades of antiquity
Clashing with the new color, concealing the walls age
The lamp stays so silent, so still, with its story so secret
Its old soul lines its way through the house.
What has it seen?
What moments has it put its light upon?
What shadows has it cast on opposing walls?
What tears have glimmered in its lively glow?
What did it look like with its spirit illuminating the night?
This new age may never know,
For its only use now…
Is a conversation piece
One Last TimeMy soul is now alone.
Diminished to a point of then and now.
I no longer feel your fervent touch.
I no longer can enjoy the
Delicate breeze of your breath on my chest
As we lay awake at night.
I no longer smell the scent of your hair
As it lingers in the air when you walk by. My eyes
No longer gaze at your beauty.
I glance to nowhere, hoping
To see you one last time.
One last time is all I wanted, in hopes
It will make you change your mind.
One last time, to make your soul blind with love.
To make it so my soul is whole again.
No longer with you, is the thought I must bare.
One last time is a dream I must let go.
Shattered, My Tortured HeartShattered
By the still, crisp, words.
They rattle silently in my
Mind. Conjured by the truth,
I wish was a lie. Deceived by
The closeness. Now hatred
Flows, like an avalanche crushing
Helpless hearts. Drugged by the
Past, pleasured by perfect lies.
Love hardens to a cold steel blade,
But it can't cut the
Tension that tourniquets
My tortured heart.
Nothing to FearAs black as a moonless night,
Is the color that caresses its skin,
Lime green eyes opened wide
Pierce through the paralyzing dark,
Like two holes punched in a curtain trying to hide the day.
Wearing a coat that shimmers and shines in the ambient light,
You can only see a reflection of its movement.
Claws made to tear flesh from fearing souls.
Porcelain white teeth ready to rip skin from bones,
Inviting the stains of blood from the bleeding.
Capable of a hiss that could put fear in the face of death.
As silent as a bludgeoned prayer laying in its grave
Ready to pounce on its powerless prey,
Fearless of reality, so aware of its surroundings,
And as I turn on the light, I hear it speak...
The WhisperHe slowly leans in towards her
He brushes her hair behind her ear
So he can get a better view of her beauty
He looks into her eyes and pauses
Just long enough for her to wonder what's about to happen
He leans in for a kiss
But he only brushes by her lips
He continues towards her ear
She feels his delicate breath on her cheek
Then he whispers in the ear he so thoughtfully exposed
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen"
She melts and is now his to have
SuffocateYour finger's bent and broken
Now it's pointing at yourself
But you look behind you
As if it's pointing to someone else
The mirror you gaze in
Is smeared with tears
It distorts your beauty
And shows you what's really inside
But you close your eyes
You smile so brightly
But your breath has the scent
Of the heart you chewed up and spit out
But you ignore the stench
Your words are loud
But the hate behind them is louder
So you plug your ears so you can't hear it
Your soul is massive
But you burry love with the dirt inside it
And walk away as love slowly suffocates
You should acknowledge that your finger points back at you
You should open your eyes when you look in the mirror
You should stop ignoring the stench of your breath behind that smile
You should unplug your ears and listen to your words
Then you should burry yourself
With the dirt that's in your soul
And I will walk away as you suffocate
Just as you did with the love that I gave to you
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
VI I. Today I am Vanilla tea
on balmy days when the air is still
fresh with the scent of cicadas
and mown grass baked in the sun
clippings stuck to your feet as you
my bedspread is white and so is my coffin.i can feel
the night closing
the stars are breaking
empty glass bottles
inside of my
mouth, and they taste like
ambien. bitter, then
but you still can't close your fucking eyes
little blue pills for
eyes– it was winter and i
dreams of nothing more than
nothing. the devil
tied chains around all the
vessels in my
body. laughed, and by god i
laughed too (and laughedandlaughedandlaughed).
this will all be over soon i swear i will take everything off your skin and bones and burn it up
and then january took the world
in it's grip and i
drowned in the snow that
will never hydrate the
can you hear that it's the night and it's so beautiful so come here darling and we'll watch the sun rise and set and rise and
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Stream Of ConsciousnessThe promise of tomorrow
Brings nothing but neglect
Of my own self-worth.
Craving your touch is a craving
Not satisfied by a peck on the cheek,
Or a light brushing of shoulders.
My dreams remain in purgatory.
My faith in love remains sublime.
My love of life is fading with each day.
I wish for more than what you give me.
I wish for more than what I have.
I wish for more than unfulfilled thoughts
Brought on by imaginary words that
Have never been spoken.
This stream of consciousness is relentlessly
Striving to become something that greatness
Can't put a finger on.
All I know is that I want more than to look into your eyes.
I want more than just a mere thought of having you.
I want more than this overflowing, bursting, box of dreams.
Purge my pain.
Purge this impatient, impulsion to infest
You're being with kisses and love.
Purge me of wanting more.
Let's become one and see where it brings us.
Give me more
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More