ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Mama,
your baby girl's swimming
in dead of the night
hair, scarred knees,
overgrown weeds, and
countless pairs
of shoes-
with those
orange and yellow wheels
that hug my toes
and heels
I'm running into
parked cars
trying to get
my kite to fly
and hiding under
dashboards
listening to you
fight
I'm rummaging through
boxes of secrets
that Daddy tried
to hide-
solving puzzles with pieces
I'll never uncover
in these thoughts
of you
your baby girl's swimming
in dead of the night
hair, scarred knees,
overgrown weeds, and
countless pairs
of shoes-
with those
orange and yellow wheels
that hug my toes
and heels
I'm running into
parked cars
trying to get
my kite to fly
and hiding under
dashboards
listening to you
fight
I'm rummaging through
boxes of secrets
that Daddy tried
to hide-
solving puzzles with pieces
I'll never uncover
in these thoughts
of you
Literature
no dear
.
the chimney smoke
blows like hair
like love
like you
in the wind
its ashen hum
rising through
the clouds
my reverend
heart beats
a trembling dove
a man without
love pinned
to a crux of spine
dear burden of mine
o father have i sinned
what fire turned
this bread to stone
what sent
my voice
to roam
without my ribs
that gnash
like children
weeping in the gloam
my chest is pried
a tongueless jaw
with nothing left
to steal
or say after
those words
how much
lonelier
i feel
.
Literature
i think we've got it bad.
the long dirty road has wheels printed into it and buildings jutting from its sides, cars stopping completely, submissive to all the too-bright light. it's freezing but i feel okay, i feel whole. i feel like i could step outside of myself and the numbness of it all wouldn't let anything touch me. the essence of me. the idea of me.
you wait for me under the street signs with your heeled shoes and too much black smeared around your eyes. it makes you look sad but maybe you want to look sad i don't really know. your hugs feel like a mother's. we're going to a party, some great musician's with golden toilets in his loft that likes prostituted gi
Literature
I Mean to Get You Alone
You have sharp
pulse-elevating teeth
the stuff I imagine heart attacks
are made of
I'm bent on selling you a handful of smiles
specifically crafted
to distract you from the fact that
I have almost nothing to say
and now you're steering this conversation
in a direction that suggests you've
forgotten that I
don't watch movies or do much of
anything but work which maybe
explains why one glass of wine gets me
wrapped around you
car to streetlight
crash style
mangled limbs
breeding curious onlookers and my insurance has
expired
you're leaning in and all I can think is
I don't have insurance
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
thoughts of swimming in hair
----
edited
(yay I can request critiques now!!!)
----
edited
(yay I can request critiques now!!!)
© 2012 - 2024 Hfeather53
Comments68
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In