deviant art

Deviant Login
Buy ArtBuy T-Shirts & Gear Buy adCast Buy Premium Membership
Shop		  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
[x]
and you don't feel the poison - it drips, it dripswe had sex because we
no longer knew
what to say to each other.

i've never liked
pillow talk,
so this worked out perfectly.

we were busy.
you, with your new job
and a sudden interest in
cigarettes -
me, with my half-written novels
and a quiet relapse into
suicide.

when we fucked
i would close my eyes and
move my hips like i could somehow
fuck
the hate out of
myself.

it didn't work,
because i loved
you (still
do)

and when
we made love
i would close my eyes and
kiss you like saying goodbye
because every time had this habit
of feeling like
the last time,

and the last time
really felt like
the last time.

after, on the worst nights,
i w
on people as placest,
you are
the elementary school playground
scraped knees
‘cooties’
and all;
i still sit on the swings
sometimes.

-

z,
you were the house i grew up in
and grew tired of,
so very familiar;
every secret door revealed
every hiding spot
discovered,
still -
i couldn't help but linger
long after it
fell apart.

-

c,
you are the forest
i have been too afraid to wander in
for long;
so beautiful and inviting
so full of poisonous
things.

-

mn,
you were the last car
on a train: temporary,
in transit and moving
(on), but
nobody can travel
forever.

-

b,
you were
the dusty hotel room
i got comfortable in for
a few days, the one i
fo
there is no three day hump with peoplecan you swallow my spirit and tell me how it tastes?
tell me what it does to you, baby, i am a hallucinogenic-
i am your favourite narcotic-
i am your dead father's leftover
bottle of pills:
nowhere near good for you
and certainly not yours.

you'll start to
see things that aren't
there, believe
everything you hear. i'll
keep you awake at night
even so exhausted,
even with your eyes
sutured-shut.

in the mornings you'll drift
in and out of sleep,
in and out of me,
i
tend to linger long after you mean to
go but you can't stay mad at me
forever, you

know,

i have a bad habit of becoming
other people's
bad habits
and this
addiction
never
isoglossmy hands are getting greedy, turning
anatomy into geography
of the world i want to live in:
mountain ranges made of vertebrae
oceans rippling on your ribcage
kissing the valley between your hipbones
closed,

and i am wondering
how can it be
that a girl with
skin so soft,
can have teeth so
sharp.
in rain waterlove is not all rosemary

or thirst-quenching

sometimes happiness comes in the loveliest shades

of sodden & grey

if we're ever to submit to this life we

have to change our idea of what is right

because sometimes love comes without the light

sometimes happiness comes through the covers at 4 am whispers

we can discover ourselves in the brush of left-over rain dripping off of branches

poppy-seeds collecting in the shallow cases of our make-believe

i can't make you out in the dark

but i know you better than i know myself

but who are you to change me?

who am i to better myself?

i'd rather let you take me

tell me where my lips begin

creature comfortsand so I guess I'm just supposed to sit here
and wait for the boy
two towns over who deals
Godspeed with his tongue
and the tattoos
that wrap his hands like
lace, or laced
drinks & laced weed. & I know
it doesn't do me any good
but I owe him
nothing. I will barter sex
for control
and someone to hold when the haze hits
and my pulse skips.

he places my hand on the burner
and the smell of gasoline and smack
has filled the kitchen where the
wallpaper, faded yellow, has begun to peel
at the corners, and the cracks of the windowsill
which sprout little green
weeds, ugly and very much mine.
I do not flinch. I close my eyes
and turn the flame fr
imaginaryoh darling, we will never be the same. in seven months i lost my jar of butterflies & glitter dust. now, i am rinsed in acid rain. in the wild i wore my antlered frame with pride beside the minnow lakes; i forced my legs to run with the wolves, but god, did i miscalculate.
we are never coming back, so let's put our formers to rest. i unveiled my baby flesh with liquor & sex sweat. i hear someone sing to me, & fall to me knees. beeswax & honey lifting me through the trees. my skin will never taste like saltwater. you'll never press your ear to me & hear the sea. i was your enigma, & you were my favorite mystery. but we are never returning, so
the destruction of destructioni leave
toenail clippings
bobby pins
&empty watter bottles
on your floor
in case you decide to forget me.

this is just our dynamic
this is just how our relationship works.
i read you chapters of the
silliest,
strangest book i know
&you have me create
voices for each character.
i am most comfortable as the narrator,
plain &unassuming,
but you like my crazier caricatures best.

it reminds me of how you like
the stranger ways my mind works,
&how you will pry sharp things
from my clawed fingers
&show up late for work
just to make sure i eat;

the hateful frustration i feel
when my body yearns for its
self destruction
only to be thwarted by somet
For the wrongedLet's fall in love quickly,
like the first wave of the morning rushes
to the shore to catch in it's open mouth
all the footprints of the lost and lonely.
I want to map my future
on the hills along the center of your back
so when you turn to leave,
I run after you like a last and only hope.
Take me with you,
down the wrong roads and all the unfamiliar
places you rest your tired heart
after my nails initial your skin and the sound
of our love becomes a slamming door.

I miss you when I hit the bottom of the bottle.

You don't know how dangerous
loving people can get.
And when you're pulling me up from silence
so I can listen to you tell me st
on needingfull title: on needing what is worst for you, or not needing what is best

i can't explain to you why i
need him, and not you
and i am sorry
i am sorry
i am
sorry,

but sometimes i play a little game
in my head, telling you
both the same things
and seeing where it goes, seeing
what kind of
reaction
i can get.

it is overcast, not
too cold, not
too hot, but it is always too hot
for you. and god
all i want to do is just
go out to the woods and
swing myself on a pendulum -
the one you've both
hung me from - and
all i want to do is just
unclip the chains from my chest
and
take my chances with the fall,
on his side
of the
bank.

you both
ache for
on people who should come with a warning labelyou have the unfortunate task
of loving a writer:
which means,  
ie,
if you hurt me
I know exactly what words to use
to tear you apart
limb from limb
line by line.
fragment 24you could tell me
anything,
anything at all,
and i would still hate
the sound of it.
repercussions 15i feel like
getting drunk
again.

a kiss
would be nice.

i crave
a cigarette.

but i need
a fucking
hug.
on the eventual recession of everythingfull title: on the eventual recession of everything i have ever felt

listen listen listen
i am a honey bee and the things i say
sting, but they kill me,
they kill me and i am so
sorry,

you have got
to believe me when i say that
'cause baby it's all i have.

and i know
this won't matter in the morning
when you're too tired or
too hungover
to remember it,
but i didn't mean
what i said,

not a damn
thing-

not even
the good parts.
Browse More Like This
more ▶

More from =vvolatile

elephantsjust once,
i am patient:
tolerant of the rotten
things you say, and
speaking out
a little less.

it's strange,
watching you
bend and arch,
vertebrae aligning
little clicks
with a quick lick
of a twist, picking
the locked
hinges
of your head
and letting the keys
fall,
impact a shuttering
shatter; echoes
resolute
but unsettling.
very.

release
everything,

know all-too well why
we're staggering & struggling
in the first place,

or pretend these
smaller spans of sanity
are the only still-
standing seconds we have.

the one thing i'll
always remember to do,
is to
forget.
excerpt
i am so so sick of this.
           sick of the screaming,
           sick of the yelling,
           sick of the name-calling,
                   the threatening,
                   the accusations,
                &
hoka heyi don't feel bad in knowing i wouldn't feel bad if he died. wouldn't care. wouldn't cry. i know on the outside you are saying, "oh, no, you don't really mean that. people make mistakes but it's all so petty and small when you're talking about human life it's a beautiful thing it's a miracle" but do you really think so? of all the six or seven billion - i don't know, it keeps growing too damn much - people out there is it really worth that much? nature and it's lifeforms are supposed to be defined by something structural, understandable; it sure would be something if natural selection ever worked its way through the human race, picking and plu
i'm not saying it's a good thing butit seems odd,
to be the one to cast the cry
across the cable like some
kind-of lullaby, but
let the wires fray and set fire
to the exposure of bit-back memories,
keep me looking for the closure i
gave away. let me tell you just this:

telling your secrets
always feels better than
keeping them
postbellumi slept for three days, once. curled
into the quiet confines of corners, questioning
the corruption of my own courage. where it went,
i don't know. but it was the worst sleep i'd ever had,
the kind you couldn't just wake up from. there were
night terrors, tremors and shakes, mmmbling about you (who?)
and everything else i was trying to forget.  these are the times
when "sleep it off" is not just an expression, but a dare,
a taunting and inviting idea at a glance. but i'd rather
have called it quits halfway through.

i suppose i was used to that,
by then. the wishing i hadn't wished for
what i did because the dreams we
on things that never change even when they doi went back there for the first time today. i mean i'd been there - in and out, quick trips if i can help it - because it's hard to leave entirely when you live four blocks away but if it were up to me i'd never see the warped wooden floors (now entirely smoothed over) and too-expensive furniture (leather cracked and discoloured with the sun) again.

it was enough to be there for a moment, but two hours? it was poison and noxious and ever-evident in his presence that things had changed, and there was something very wrong about seeing the place you once called home turn into something so toxic. i could pass my fingertips against the walls and

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

March 15
1.1 KB
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 22
Favourites: 11 [who?]


Views: 127 (0 today)
[x]

nebraska

:iconvvolatile:

for s


it is three am in
every sense of the time and the
place there isn't enough
space between my nerves
these days and god
damn
when you touch
me i get goosebumps and my synapses stop
working. winter boy,
kiss me when it gets cold and hold
me here so i'll remember what it's like
to feel okay.

moments are not
temporary, they are
memory, they
stick,
and if i could just linger in this i
would. the world is gold
and flat and
simple,
and we will conquer every
stretch of pavement and
dust trail
in between.

make a pillow of your chest and
a blanket of your body
and let me lie
there
for a little while: find

the fervor
and the fever in the
press of my
hips, tilt-shift
and quiesce into
the greater hollows of my
being.

scorpio sinner, we are mis
placed and mis
taken and
so far from home
has never felt so much like
home.
:iconvvolatile:
i'll probably write and rewrite
this until i feel like i get it
right, but for now this is
good enough.


(c)
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

Please sign up or login to post a critique.

:icondamagedhomewrecker:
~DamagedHomewrecker Mar 22, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
the last stanza is my favorite.
Reply
:iconvvolatile:
=vvolatile Mar 22, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thank you :heart:
Reply
:iconkaitforest:
*KaitForest Mar 15, 2013   Writer
you write such beautiful poetry for s
Reply
:iconvvolatile:
=vvolatile Mar 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:heart:

it's been a while that i've
written anything nice for a guy...
Reply
:iconlostmymind193:
~lostmymind193 Mar 15, 2013
"make a pillow of your chest and
a blanket of your body
and let me lie
there"

The moment i knew i was in love with this piece. Also the last stanza, it really hit home for me.
Reply
:iconvvolatile:
=vvolatile Mar 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:heart:

thank youu.

that was actually the first part of this i
wrote, it just ended up in a different order.
Reply
:iconlostmymind193:
~lostmymind193 Mar 15, 2013
haha. its interesting how that happens sometimes. ^.^ also, this kinda reminds me of "burned" by ellen hopkins..dunno if you've read that or not.
Reply
:iconvvolatile:
=vvolatile Mar 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
haha yeah. & really? yeah, i read it a couple
years ago, i don't remember much of it though.
how so?
Reply
:iconlostmymind193:
~lostmymind193 Mar 15, 2013
like the way she desires him so much, and how she finds a place to call home in him..but he dies so...its kinda sad. haha. also, i think it was in nevada, which kinda sounds like nebraska...sorta......okay not really. lol
Reply
:iconvvolatile:
=vvolatile Mar 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
oh okay haha i see what you mean. but yeah... this is about this guy that I like quite a bit haha who lives almost 2000 niles away from here, and Nebraska would be the midpoint where we'd meet up
Reply
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
©2013 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy