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a secret oath.a secret oath.
"madness need not be all breakdown; it may also be
break-through. it is potential liberation and renewal
as well as enslavement and existential death."
- r. d. laing
imagine your bone structure collapsing in on itself, birthday sticks in the mudpie of your flesh, and eyes like glass, blue as all the oceans and glinting as the light curves through them, odd little chips of endless third dimension. imagine as i do, these separate features animated. an awkward caricature of limbs at impossible bends and intersections, levitating in the space between worlds where your half-body splinters, the shards of your bones are swallowed by the earth and i wake to the familiar sense of a gaping, yawning loss.
sundays run fluidly into one another until suddenly each moment becomes a disjointed struggle between will and sympathy and some sort of hybrid, a collaboration in soulache of disappointment, anger and the guilt that drags itself after, a crawling heavy sense on th
caro levarecaro levare.
i think of you in carnivals, a tale of teenage existentialism in a
city by the sea. celestial star-empire stretched calm above gaudy
circus lights, wrong in their stillness, where you are at once a storm
and a silence. suspended in a ferris cart above its lawless city you
speak of fire, lionboy, of freedom, in your mind an oppressed radical
aching for a dream to come to pass. in secret, you were born to do
this, inspire and impact and fight your tiny wars with words. and even
the cosmos itself stops for you, we stare as one, in awe of the lionboy
shifting earth's momentum as her people sleep below, unseeing.
you beneath the sun, you are a caged hurricane of rage under
your skin, a thin façade of cool apathy. catatonic schizophrenic on
your back in the grass and you see something hazy that escapes
me in the depths of blue, but i see the gears of epiphany finally
churning for you and for the first time it strikes me that we pass
these messages in s
-: there is only so much others can do to help you. you know this. don't you? you know. and yet you do nothing. you change nothing. in the pit of your eternally whirring mind. all that ties me to you is guilt. i don't understand why you keep coming here, to us, to me.
+: the night children, my father.
-: i don't understand. you.
+: he who comes after, beelzebub, all things to all men. i cannot tell her i am her brother. she deserves to be happy.
-: you do not think she'll be happy to find her long lost sibling, whom she has been searching for her entire lifetime, whom she left behind the ice for? you don't think she will be happy?
+: i am black inside as coal. i have died and yet, i am not dead. how could she be happy to know her only living family member is a convicted felon, outcasted? i will care for her from a distance and she need never know. it's the way i want it. an act of love.
-: love, by its nature, desires a
in the mountains, i feel free.in the mountains, there i feel free.
Q: i think, if i do this, there will be nothing left of me.
X: it's the push and pull, your gears will grind and scratch together but everything equates in the end.
Q: it's not quite so easy, not as simple as you make it sound.
X: except it is. there is one key difference between you and i:
you wallow, sorrow spat you out.
i believe happiness, not achievement, is the measure of success.
Q: i am dead to me.
X: you know, that's not how the play begins.
Q: i think you think i have lost all sense of direction in my life, and so you drag me around all sorts of detours keeping your eyes peeled as potatoes for ways in which i can be used for your benefit.
and you think i am unaware.
that's not it. that's not it at all. i am not oblivious to you and your motives, i just stopped carrying myself long before we met.
i am not oblivious.
i am dead to me.
Q: there will always be questio
nemo sine vitio est.nemo sine vitio est.
and alaskan winters cloak themselves around
my bare and boney shoulders no matter
where my current location happens to be.
the skies are going black at just four thirty in the afternoon
and sometimes it can be another's past you cannot escape,
their curse may be yours just as your sorrow can be theirs.
he was a boy who found loneliness in all the corners of
town, crooked little side streets where suns of summer
could never quite penetrate the back walls and shadows
would stalk from end to end, he believed. cosmic shadows
that could be magick doctor know from some unexplored
foreign galaxy if only anyone would dare approach them.
secrets, from a life forgotten.
i forget sometimes that nobody is without fault, and this includes you
too. i guess i'm scared that you'll disappear if i don't make a conscious
effort to recall all the trivial and menial things about you.
so i compare you to australia the earth deity
or paris the city of love
or new y
father faust.father faust.
you are listening to the heartbeat of the child you left alone.
and you may not know it, may
find yourself in the car down some
deserted street at eleven pm
with speakers singing soft to you
but you are hearing my heart beating
from someplace in the north where
we do not speak and seldom love. and
you may refuse to speak of me or my
latest life, how far i could have come in
just three short months, but you think and
you hear and i beat along inside your chest
in the quiet car moments or right before
you fall asleep.
feel the cold up here in the nighttime.
i bear your name and maybe your eyes too,
your disease and your disillusionment but aside
from these we are poles apart, we are strangers
we are each a bundle of terrible mistakes and
misconceptions and fatal flaws and we fight
those few fleeting times we exchange more than
maybe three utterances between us.
night terror.night terror.
a crash course on human nature:
discontentment, lust, destruction.
we rinse and repeat.
i knew a soul like it was my own, once.
we were in perfect sync throughout our
years of discord. shells, we were, buried
in sands the colour of ash and we found
eachother through sheer coincidence.
one and the same, two rings of silver
worn over time until there was no shine
left within us. we would walk our paths
of dust for days
[never running. our lives were chasing
a short space behind, but we never ran]
until there was no grey dust left to walk
on. carried eachother when our feet bled
and lay down in the smashed glass shards
at the end of our almost-desolate journey.
i loved him, once.
more powerful and encompassing than any
love in all of history, but along the way his
jigsaw pieces got misplaced and he was
left with no eyes to see and no mouth to
speak. a portrait never to be regained.
a trained iris will see all,
just so long as you know what to look for.
you may see as
my sweet, my songless.my sweet, my songless. my caged bird.
phaedra has strayed from the path of good sense.
i know a place in which there are no questions
no tongues to speak, no eyes to explore
and in its dark centre there is a puzzle that will not be reassembled.
there is a spiderweb stretching from east to west in which i lie
and knowledge paralysed.
i am the ugly duckling of truth
(read as: i have trouble expressing myself
things i know but cannot prove,
an endless spray of saltwater against the gaping holes in my soulmeetsflesh.)
in order to get an image, you must know sympathy
another way of listening
on the sea, the sea.
in order to listen, we must learn patience.
oliver, the sun won't rise for another three hours or more and you
have me rapt until she wakes the treebranches and windowpanes.
do you have the time to teach me love?
i am not so well versed, but i've heard it means the following things:
staying cocooned in the bedsheets until noon has passed.
notes on the fridge door reminding me to use the opened milk.
letting me think you forgot my birthday,
and surprising me three days later with lindor chocolates
and a pack of morinaga sweets
and a night curled up on the couch with the foreign movies i love so much.
talking honestly about our histories.
forgiving my past mistakes.
worrying for me every single appointment with my therapist,
knowing that it wears me down talking about these things for hours on end
and running your fingers through my hair when i flop next to you with the weight of sorrow clutching around my shoulders.
admitting you've been wrong and trying your hardest to change your ways
and apologising from the ve
Today Is The Day
Today is the day.
Today is the day that you stop making excuses.
Today is the day you put your fork down and lace up your shoes.
Today is the day you step outside and run like there is fire at your heels.
Today is the day you think of sweat as gold.
Today is the day you fall down and get back up.
Today is the day you feel the ache in your calves.
Today is the day you pant like a dog.
Today is the day you tell yourself you'll do it again tomorrow and mean it.
Today is the day you make a change.
you ate the stars and i ate my heart.this is how i was
fell in love with a boy
with razor sharp
teeth and a
poet's heart. it's really a
pretty kind of thing.
using his borrowed
tongue, he took me in like a
four a.m cigarette (slowly, and
with loneliness in every one of his
joints). we both thought
that enough smoke
would fill in the cracks in our
rib cages; we were both
he told me that he would
like to be a
planet: "all that open
space, all those dying
stars. it would give me room to
instead of telling him that
there is no oxygen in
outer space, i
watched him feel his lungs
implode. it broke my
bones to witness it; but it's really a
dreadfully pretty thing to
The BirdSo desperate for the love
She couldn't find inside.
She was perfectly willing to throw herself at the stars,
Convinced she could be completely happy
With someone who put her in a nest.
That gilded nest was beautiful,
But a nest none the less.
It just took a shining mirror
To see how it had become a cage.
Resolutely she found the key
And let herself out.
She never noticed how confining it had become
The cage ripped and tore at her feathers and flesh
Until she finally wrenched herself free
To flee as far as she could get
From that awful place.
Along the way,
She found another mirror.
Looking into it....
She found me,
A reflection of herself.
She saw me – herself -
Without her cloak of lies
Leadening her hunched shoulders,
Concaving her entire persona.
She discovered my beautiful colors,
The fine sheen to my feathers
And enthralling grey of my eyes.
She flew away,
But I met her every mirror after
I saw her slouch transform into a strut,
Her shining tears dissolve into mischiev
Somewhere in New YorkSomewhere in New York,
a voice calling,
It was full
of wild imaginings,
of human revolution,
of ideas which
to her heart -
it is right
to be alone
in the struggle...
2 puzzle pieces
which seemed to fit
and did join
and how happy
to be the corner piece,
to lead the rest
to her love...
For she had loved
but only once...
Only one chance
to bring all of it
If she faced
it did not
it did not
change one curl
in a proud
for much can be
In New York,
in her head,
to tatters -
but only once...
comfortcurling into quilts so deep
bubbles of tension run off
my body like soap, and i
clutch that raggedy little
dog to my chest like cloth
can make me whole.
What is Isolation you ask?
Isolation is to be left out when you want to be in.
Isolation is feeling that sense of loneliness.
Isolation is feeling alone when ten thousand people surround you.
Isolation is hearing laughter in a room and silence when you walk in.
Isolation is staying away from people, afraid they won’t talk back.
Isolation is sad.
Isolation is small.
Isolation is hard to describe unless you are the person feeling it.
Isolation is quiet.
Isolation is counting how many times you get let down and eventually lose track.
Isolation is wanting to forgive but not knowing how.
Isolation is uttering a cry from the depths of your soul and waiting forever for a reply.
Isolation is not hearing an answer when you ask a question.
Isolation makes you feel worthless.
Isolation has to be the cruelest of emotions.
I know the feeling of isolation.
I sense it in myself.
There's nothing you choose to do about it.
For I've tried everything already.
So don't be surprised,
If I'm gone from this place.
Stop talking, Start screamingStop talking
It’s not enough
Maybe you should try to scream
Everyone does it
Stamp your feet
Slam the door
What you stand for
And when somebody
Has noticed you
Do what all the others
Would do too
Just don’t quit
You like the attention more
Than you could admit
Don’t be embarrassed
It’s what we all do
Everyone denies it
But we all know it’s true
Screaming our opinions
On the whole internet
And begging for attention
Is how we lack intellect
This is who we are
It’s the purpose of our society
Everybody wants to be heard
Ignoring the last bit of propriety
So do what you think is right
Scream whatever comes in mind
Do anything you can do
To make someone notice you
The Witch TrialOn the east-bounds o' red-rose shire,
there stands the Pendle Hill.
T'ween rivers Ribble and Hudder,
wind-swept moors standing still.
Walled by the druid stones and wary
hedgerows, Irish sea gales whisper and
moan. For devil soul'd men o' earth
tramp the trails alone.
Demdike and Device, Redferne and Whittle.
Those crones and their blood kin
care for nought, old hearts brittle.
Across the dark old Pendle Hill
They scurry'd and swarm'd. To fear'd Malkins
Tower, Pendle Forests black soul.
Brave Nicholas and Nowell, hid 'mongst
the tall trees, unseen by the Coven
who plotted dark deeds. They led
local men held by fear and thrall,
Captured the Coven, sent to
Lancaster's dank halls.
Trial'd, and tested, and sentenced to die.
Devils and beggars, see
the Pendle's blighters stand nigh.
Hung by the neck 'till the corpses
are cold. Buried in churchyards, with
eyes on their souls.
But one was different from the old
and the ugly. Dear Alice Nutter,
the lady of Roughlee. Silent and
where have I gone wrong ?standing on the cliff, watching the waves beat the shore;
setting the sun, the violet clouds breathe again;
lookin' for wisdom the seaweed offer a cry, off by the bay side looking real sorrowful
the crab eats alone;
storm on the highway bristles my eyelids;
looking for answers but the seagulls leave no reply.
Windsor BlueWindsor Blue
I am erasing you, and I am happy.
These roads could be consuming our souls and
would be none the wiser.
I slept on the hard shoulder, in the grass and you
drove ahead, flesh and bone and heart beating against ribs between lungs that work like paper swans
litter the tables and floors in a hotel 300 miles away
in the middle of a place where I've been left before.
There is no other set of co-ordinates on the face of this earth that looks exactly like this
exactly like you as you connect the cables and
let me sleep 'cause you know my energy levels are running low and it's
one hell of a drive, socks full of holes that you press to the pedal to
accelerate this heap of metal and plastic and tacky fabric pulling apart at the seams.
"I can't help you," consonants drifting in and out of the smoke from your mouth, "if you won't help yourself."
I am erasing you, and I am lost between here and Montauk and Idaho and home is calling,
or would be if I could catch it but
what love is not.it was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain,
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth,
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More