ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
swollen head wrapped up in tapestry and
a mouth full of cotton dripping down into my stomach
-leaving a sullying taste somewhere between lust and hatred
and I want
your body- your touch
your head lifts up and you walk around like your painted with clouds
but when you turn around it dips
and I see the fractured sadness in your eyes
you have tall tall body
A grecian statue, an austere appalachian mountain
you are beautiful but you look terrible
and your hair feels like feather dusters
these wailing are a s histionic as they come but have you ever
faced the wrath of human longing (blue and green and lilac explosions bursting bright behind your cover ups)
I wish you’d like me back
a mouth full of cotton dripping down into my stomach
-leaving a sullying taste somewhere between lust and hatred
and I want
your body- your touch
your head lifts up and you walk around like your painted with clouds
but when you turn around it dips
and I see the fractured sadness in your eyes
you have tall tall body
A grecian statue, an austere appalachian mountain
you are beautiful but you look terrible
and your hair feels like feather dusters
these wailing are a s histionic as they come but have you ever
faced the wrath of human longing (blue and green and lilac explosions bursting bright behind your cover ups)
I wish you’d like me back
Literature
They say the one who prays
They say the one who prays receives much more
than whom we pray for, shaping what we want
to what we get. We find a way to pour
the outcomes into candle molds we can't
have fashioned for ourselves. But then we light
the wax and sniff the scent and call us blessed
by blessings in disguise. For what is right
in contexts so complex we cannot test?
For those who say that praying contradicts
free will or undercuts the will to change
injustice, fine. You have no wax, no wicks,
no blessing and no curse, you are the sage.
I pray to sculpt the candle and the mold
and scent with pity earth and heaven's hold.
Literature
I'll Never Grow Tired
Tonight I'm going to stop you
on the porch, we'll stand toe to toe
the way we used to when
the pulse that thrummed
quick and strong through our veins
sang out our young, unbridled hope.
Our eyes will meet and,
just like the first time,
I'll take a moment to run my fingers
through your shining thoughts and
caress the sharp lines of your mind.
I'll lean forward and press my lips onto
the the flower-petal curve of your self-expression,
and that will be enough for you
to take me by the hand
and lead me up the stairs.
In the soft moonlight that filters through
the trees and our gauzy curtains
I'll unbutton your fears and slip them
Literature
Small Talk
It's dripping with logic and reason
the question you let gently drop
onto the table between us,
“So, tell me about your life.”
And I'm watching it carefully
telling myself it won't bite
it's more scared of me than I am
and I can capture it with glass.
And I can't rest the answer there
because it's bigger and scarier
and this one will bite will sink
will tear apart the careful stitches.
It's too big for this table
and I can't put it onto you
so it weighs heavy on my neck
and the silence stretches further.
Suggested Collections
© 2014 - 2024 Personghost
Comments4
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This is beautiful. Just . . . beautiful.