ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
If I was a better person I’d probably not
fantasise
about my boss being dispatched
by the four
horsemen of the apocalypse, Sam Hill
come to claim his due.
Stirred by the sacrifice
of my white teeth:
coffee stained and looking a little used.
If I was a better person I’d probably not
write
about my wants, twist the knife only to
snatch back the words
before they fall out
of my mouth, cosmetics collecting
in the corners
of my lips,
wine-lined and feeling a little empty.
If I was a better person I’d probably not
cry
to try and make things better. Fix you breakfast and
scramble my sense of normalcy.
Tiptoeing Janus-like through life
hating my shadows and my scars
The loathsome parts of me,
soulless and tasting a little bitter.
If I was a better person I’d probably
let you go.
Sentence myself to solitary.
And deal with my demons
Alone.
fantasise
about my boss being dispatched
by the four
horsemen of the apocalypse, Sam Hill
come to claim his due.
Stirred by the sacrifice
of my white teeth:
coffee stained and looking a little used.
If I was a better person I’d probably not
write
about my wants, twist the knife only to
snatch back the words
before they fall out
of my mouth, cosmetics collecting
in the corners
of my lips,
wine-lined and feeling a little empty.
If I was a better person I’d probably not
cry
to try and make things better. Fix you breakfast and
scramble my sense of normalcy.
Tiptoeing Janus-like through life
hating my shadows and my scars
The loathsome parts of me,
soulless and tasting a little bitter.
If I was a better person I’d probably
let you go.
Sentence myself to solitary.
And deal with my demons
Alone.
Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Literature
On Writing
all the words
all the senses
all the dirt and smell and roughness
the bursting heart
fresh cold water
CRASH of waves and then the ache within
trickling nothing tears and itching legs
all these things
someone wrote them, a bit.
How can you tell anyone
else? How can you thrust
the living today
into someone else's soul?
This is just a nut in a banana leaf.
Literature
Shadows
Shadows
The little girl never slept very well. She didnt like the dark. In her twilight lit, dusty room, she watched the gas lamps outside flicker and fade, casting eerie shadows dancing on her walls, which scared her more. When she did sleep (which was in snatches), she dreamt that the shadows on her wall would come alive and drag her away into their evil world. Her father laughed when she told him, telling her that big girls never had nightmares. Shaking her head weakly, she snuggled deeper into her covers, trying to block the shadows away. For a while, it was working and the girl drifted into light fearless sleep. Then
A grat
Suggested Collections
Elastic
© 2015 - 2024 Llywenlla
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Wow, this is really good