please add me on myspace--keep me updated-read mysend me a message if you add me and keep in touch
Newest
Lost ConversationalistsA. Somewhere away from here Where the sky cracks like dried clay Somewhere in the heat skipping pebbles against an ocean of concrete You'll remember you wanted me Standing there in your faded blue jeans.Lost Conversationalists
B. When fourth period comes Your mouth is no longer filled With the sweet rot
Of words.
C. There is certain danger In circumstance.
D. Two years ago
I would have dug through the trash
To find your letters I would have wrecked the car seats And slit open the cushions Left everything to ruin. &nb
by ~amante-eyed-starry
because i cant stop listeningthe truth is i knew i was becoming obsessive, crazy even, beating it into you everynight. something about you made my stomach turn, made my hands wring themselves dry of soap water and praise you for not being next to me but close enough to still want you at a distance. i dont know what i liked about you, your laugh or the way no serious complications ever followed your inhibitions. i know you promised me things you wouldnt keep and my doorstep was only so far. i only wished youd jump in your car and drive to get to me past highways and gas stations, clever enough to know id be waiting. how you would have gotten to me never even crossed my mibecause i cant stop listening
by ~amante-eyed-starry
Gut wrenchingI dont know what you musta been thinkin, flounderin around in that heat like you was bread in the oven, like you was born to rise and brown and be all buttered up. I watched you from a few feet a way and i think my bones got a little more adventurous, like they was needin to scamper off and get somewhere. Maybe closer to you, maybe diggen themselves into the earth where they belonged, where i knew they'd go someday. Today mostly it was just closer to you, creaking against you makin our own music , kinda soft like a hushed breath. The ground musta lifted up a bit just for us, like we was aGut wrenching
by ~amante-eyed-starry
Charles's PoemI found you rolled inside a fresh dollar bill today The smell was clean And crisp, I slid the corner into my mouth and licked the edge withCharles's Poem
Dry lips and Dirty fingernails. I try to think about the veins in your hands, About how musician’s hands Are so much more precise, Like a landscape of their own. The way when you see them, You don’t think of hands, But blood and bones and muscle.
by ~amante-eyed-starry
Favourites
deviantID
No deviantID yet.
Devious Info
- Current Residence: desk
- Interests: everything
- Favourite band or musician: make believe, american football, fiona apple,bjork,clap your hands say yeah,owen, lemuria
- Favourite genre of music: folk-indie-math rock-geek rock
- Favourite artist: nan goldin
- Favourite poet or writer: the beats--any awkward writer--anyone who makes youth look beautiful
- Favourite photographer: anyone who takes pictures of women
- Skin of choice: my own
- Tools of the Trade: drugs and experience
deviantART Community Board
Comments
Site Map
©2009 deviantART. All rights reserved
Previous Page12345...Next Page