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AimlessSpring forgot how to begin anew,
so Winter stole her amnesic heart and tossed it to the wolves.
"Devour me," the stars seemed to beg;
so Gravity plunged them into the ocean's nebulous depths.
These lips no longer offer hymns up to fallen gods—
so Fate sacrificed herself for the chance to be reborn.
Hall Of Mirrors"Hall Of Mirrors"
I was once thrown into a hall of mirrors
Surrounding me on every side
I was forced to look deep into my soul
For I had not a place to hide
Every mirror reflected someone different
Some versions were fat or thin
Each version had different color eyes
But none revealed the person within
Some versions were short or tall
Some had me in a tie and suit
Some had me in a summertime shirt
But none revealed the person I knew
Every mirror showed different contrast
And different objects floating in space
Some reflections were lighter than others
But none helped reflect my own face
So finally down on hands and knees
I asked desperat
MasqueradeShe glides into the room,
Her crimson dress flowing.
Body engulfed in a sweet perfume,
Only half of her face showing.
The candles flicker,
Bowing down as she passes.
Heartbeats become quicker,
Every man's affection she amasses.
Her discomfort begins to tell,
For she is not all that she seems.
To herself she has said farewell,
Haunted by the world of dreams.
Behind the mask lies the pain,
The sharp feeling of regret.
Her composure she must maintain,
Try to forgive and forget.
We're Not Crazy"We're Not Crazy"
Sometimes I used to think I was crazy
But I could never really tell
For was it wrong to have suicidal tendencies
Even when everything was going well?
Was it crazy to cry alone in the dark
Believing things would never change?
Believing darkness consumed my heart
And my life would be the same?
Was it crazy to stay up all night drinking coffee
Just so I could sleep all day
Just so I wouldn't face the people
Who used me and threw me away?
Crazy people don't know they're crazy
Or at least they aren't meant to know
I can only speculate if this is true or not
But that's how the cliche goes
But then I started thinking
ancient black tears
captive deep within
thicken & darken
an unforgiven sin
oozed ebony anguish
eats ice white skin
pierced by hope
light seeps therein
a black tear
now crystal clear
Gallows of the EyeHow loud the shouts and whispers,
Echoing on from invisible tongues.
As melodies sing like acid vapors,
Oh, the profanity has begun.
To storms it is not comparable,
Thunders become a mother’s song.
Even nightmares turn to lullabies,
And monsters leaving on their own.
Coming forth with a hunter’s crouch,
Lying in wait in the darkness’ shade.
Only not in the corners of your room,
But there instead in your guarded mind.
Fight it with fire all you like,
Stare it down with all your might.
The more you purge the more it feeds,
A war that’s won with stronger greed.
One goal crowns its lonely wake,
A feeble little soul liv
When I talk, you don’t listen.
You’re just waiting for your turn to speak.
You view every conversation as a competition.
All I can see is the unstoppable movement of your cheeks.
The flow of communication is always re directed back to you.
Almost as if everyone must hear what you have to say.
I’m not denying that half of what you say could actually be true.
But how can so much happen to a person in just one mere day.
What makes it worse is that your stories get recycled and repeated.
I zone in and out of your speeches and know exactly what happens next.
My place in the conversation is to respond and
It's all about her,-I had never wished to know the moon,
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.
-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present
-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”
Morning Light“Morning Light”
These hills that I’ve traversed
Within each and every verse
Have led me to believe
In all the things I see
And where I am right now
I could never imagine how
I have gotten myself to stand
On my own two feet again
I thought I could never dream
Or at least in what I mean
Or maybe this is fake
And these thoughts I can not shake
So sad and unaware
Bad thoughts are always there
Floating in my head
Taunting me instead
I don’t want to be naļve
And believe in what I see
But this thing called pressure
Is more than I can measure
Anxiety never disappears
Even though the ones I fear
Have finally gone away
april 18th, 2012.therapy:
"I'm not an artist. I'm just a kid with a keyboard."
“And, y'know, I’m probably not really sick.”
“I read a lot of books. I probably just act like this because I saw it somewhere on the Internet.”
“I just want to be more like my dad.”
“I’m really just a pathological crybaby who wants attention,” I tell you.
You say, “I think there are better ways to get attention than fake a mental disorder.”
“Maybe I’m doing it for fun.”
The problem isn’t that I need to see a therapist.
The problem is that I need to see a therapist because
Witch OilThere's magma boiling in her frostbitten veins;
incandescent pixie dust and
sluggishly making its way through
a childish heart — wishing for one last chance
to spread her wings and soar to
Last PagesIn my manuscript where I wrote my pieces,
Its final pages to my pen releases.
With lies about love it is full,
Reading it sometimes gets dull.
Her name all over the pages is scattered,
I remember the time when my heart it flattered,
Now I look at it and burn from despair,
I am hopeless, I am not treated fair.
In times of darkness she shed light,
But now again I am struck by the night.
What means to smile I forgot,
By a bullet called reality I was shot.
Wasted Words.Wasted Words.
We wait for the last possible moment.
Even when confronting our opponents.
How we truly feel.
We hide behind our counterfeit expressions.
Conceal and contain our countless confessions.
Failing to announce,
What our mouths long to pronounce.
We purposely squander opportunities.
Maintaining our positions within our communities.
Avoiding any disclosure,
Reducing the risk of exposure.
We use humour to dilute what we actually say.
Because the truth does not have to be revealed today.
We know there always is a tomorrow,
So today has not got to be filled with sorrow.
We wait and wait.
Stall and pr
Useless wishes and butterfly kissesThe sun sets over our heads,
The birds sing out the close of the day.
Usually I would have admired this display
But not today.
My eyes are filled with tears of useless wishes,
And your lips are filled with whispers of goodbye and butterfly kisses.
I try to make up for all the days I forgot to say
I love you.
Your eye lids close slowly,
Those things I used to be mad at you about,
Seem so small and stupid now.
I clasp on to your hands,
Willing for you to live
And see more stunning days like this.
You squeeze my hand ever so slightly,
As the life drains from your face,
Flowing out from your body.
As the sun sets over your life,
The birds sing out their goodbyes.
And all I can do is stop and stare hopelessly at this display,
You left me today.
It May EndThere may come a time,
When the well runs dry,
And I cannot compose another rhyme.
But until then I will still try,
To make you laugh and perhaps even cry.
There may come a day,
When the train hits the buffer,
And I cannot write what I hope to say.
But until then I will suffer,
To write words like a roving lover.
There may come a hour,
When the sun stays in the clouds,
And songs are like a shower.
But until then I will think aloud,
And compose complexities to the crowd.
Suicide DreamI hate this suicide dream,
I go to sleep and then I awake,
To the pitch black and then I scream.
I'm drowning in the depths of a lake,
And it feels so real to me and I die.
I despise this suicide dream,
I watch it with waking eyes,
In the glare of daylight by a stream.
I'm suffocating and no one can hear my cries,
And it's stopping me from even breathing.
I loathe this suicide dream,
I hear only silence in my brain,
But then again nothing is as it may seem.
I'm dying as I slash through a vein,
And all the blood does bubble then drain.
DiversityLike a raven of the night,
I'm a shadow in flight.
Soaring high above tattered tiles,
And terracotta chimney pots,
I gaze down at a thousand smiles.
Like a salmon in a stream,
I'm a silhouette in a dream.
Swimming down to a rainbow river,
Beside fields of tranquil gold,
I hear those clouds shake and shiver.
Like a spider in a crack,
I'm shrouded in black.
Hiding in that despairing dark,
From gnashing grins of fearless foes,
I wish that I could meow and bark.
Angel of DreamsI know she isn't real,
But her warm embrace,
Is a sensation I can feel.
People see a fake face,
But I see an angel in a daze.
I know she might be fiction,
But her enchanting kiss,
Is causing this wild infliction
Even if this is a reckless risk,
To do hold her again: I cannot miss.
I know she is just a dream,
But her alluring eyes,
Is a gaze that makes me scream.
With these tears of joy I cry,
As I see my love depart into the sky.
The Final ApplauseTo the audience of the earth,
I step up and take my final bow,
I'm guilty of breaking my premier vow.
To continue on through this banal charade,
But it hurt me for what's it worth.
To the choir up in heaven,
I thank you for your glorious praise,
Yet can I continue this angelic craze?
Oh how I hate this depression parade,
But maybe I'm the only one that needs saving.
To the crowd down in hell,
I laugh at your demonic remarks,
All your criticisms are like neutron sparks.
For I hear it like a harmonious serenade;
Then I wake up to cries of the alarm bell.
InternalWhy should I worry about you?
Maybe it's because,
I have nothing else to do.
So give me a round of applause,
As I turn my back on the life I knew.
Why should I ignore your smile?
Maybe it's reassuring,
That I find your expression so vile.
I hear your cadence suppressing,
My mind as I wander that misery mile.
Why should I remember that face?
Maybe it's scarred,
Or are the wounds so out of place?
See all the lesions laid bared,
By grimaces of my own demonic grace.
Why should I not return?
Maybe I'm wrong,
But those empty eyes in me burn.
Yet I'll come back as strong,
Even if my terror in me does not turn.
Keep in Touch!
`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