a little alcove by the lakebed, as the lazy sun rolls around, with the birds hopping around the branches, the ducks sailing to and fro, and two swans giving each other a gentle nudge by the waterside
a quaintly lit room, with two chairs, a few lights, the dog taking a nap in the corner, reading at our own pace, with the occasional idea floated around or the innocent peek of the eye
a party for two, with the right wine, the right appetizer, and the perfect conversation, as always
a lazy Saturday in bed, somehow being the first to wake up, deciding whether to sleep a bit longer, or get up and make breakfast, or to poke you and see how you're
Romance is an interesting topic. It’s intriguing because it’s something we all strive for, as human beings, at our very core, something we seek whether we know it or not, but is fundamentally, unachievable. It’s something pure, naïve, honest, an expression of who we are at our core free and unforeboding, something we wish we could set loose, something always in our fantasies, affecting what we do, who we look for in marriage, where we go in life, how we die, how we live. It is something you can get close to, but not quite fully; you can get close to peter pan and superman and the American hero, but you will never fully
the world
is full of people
s
i
n
k
i
n
g
j
u
s
t
l
i
k
e
m
e
.
we throw out our lots to each other
trying to pick each other
u
p
.
.
.
.
but what we really need
is to pick ourselves
up
out of
the water
however that may be
___it differs for each person
___and when we reach out
___and we don't find
___what our souls need
___it just drills more holes
___into our already sinking
___already dying
___already
a little alcove by the lakebed, as the lazy sun rolls around, with the birds hopping around the branches, the ducks sailing to and fro, and two swans giving each other a gentle nudge by the waterside
a quaintly lit room, with two chairs, a few lights, the dog taking a nap in the corner, reading at our own pace, with the occasional idea floated around or the innocent peek of the eye
a party for two, with the right wine, the right appetizer, and the perfect conversation, as always
a lazy Saturday in bed, somehow being the first to wake up, deciding whether to sleep a bit longer, or get up and make breakfast, or to poke you and see how you're
Romance is an interesting topic. It’s intriguing because it’s something we all strive for, as human beings, at our very core, something we seek whether we know it or not, but is fundamentally, unachievable. It’s something pure, naïve, honest, an expression of who we are at our core free and unforeboding, something we wish we could set loose, something always in our fantasies, affecting what we do, who we look for in marriage, where we go in life, how we die, how we live. It is something you can get close to, but not quite fully; you can get close to peter pan and superman and the American hero, but you will never fully
I am single,
but I am loved.
I am not a genius,
but I am intelligent.
I am not breathtaking,
but I have beauty.
I am not a saint,
but I am kind.
To the world,
I am not perfect.
But for someone,
I am.
Hopeless..
Completely hopeless that's all I am
I keep wishing on rainbows that I'll understand
Why I keep replaying the words in my head
Over and over again.. Wish it were dead
Crusade of the heart? I don't believe
Why do I keep coming back to that day
Everything changed.. It won't go away
Focus
I try to focus on anything else
Throwing myself into something
And yet, I believe in nothing
One last refrain
I'm still full of pain
Playing over and over again
Maybe I should change the tape?
Or find something else...
Not sure I know how
What's lost is gone forever
There's no turning back from never
Aware
Someday it should fade
I'm sure it w
Her fingers are dirty,
Her hair tangled.
She's a mess, some would say.
But at least her heart is pure.
His wrists covered in scars,
His stomach roaring with hunger.
He's damaged, some would say.
But at least his love is whole.
Her breathing is heavy,
And her skin is pale.
She's dying, some would say.
But at least she knows how to live.
At least a woman without a house
Knows how to make a home.
Hand her a loaf of bread,
And she won't devour it,
Because she knows how to treasure
The beauty in life.
At least a boy without a smile
Knows how to hold on,
Longer than someone who's never fallen,
And never dared to learn
How to fly.
At least a g
Hatred, whether based on
Your looks
Your personality
Your smile
Your tears
Your reality
Your fantasies
Your happiness
Your depression
Your honesty
Lies
Feelings
Dreams
Goals
Wishes..
Hatred,
Hatred is the problem.
Not you.
anthem of pompeii. by crooked-clockwork, literature
Literature
anthem of pompeii.
i.
held in the debris are figments
of a spider-webbed world abandoned,
nestled in these cleft &
china-thin axioms of ours –
the city’s heartbeat’s
twenty-two thrums per second;
oh, god, hold me down. mend
my melted pedestals
ii.
ash submerges my skin,
& yours too – you leave a
different aftertaste than before;
it’s more like experience
(& less like innocence)
i read your eyes for an unparalleled,
tick-tocked muse, time & time
again. living in your
academy of incubi & prescriptions
(it has never been so dark)
iii.
& it almost feels like
antiquity never lived & prehistory
was never given a moment to ful
listen:
fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider.
but i liked the idea of it.
listen:
two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme.
and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end."
listen:
on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape.
lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged ho
been awhile since I last posted here. Still doing some photo work, might upload one or two now and then.
My mind's been somewhere else for awhile though, been through some ups and downs, college started (hooray...? haha). I've been reading a lot of the stuff by some of the wonderful poets posting on this site, and I feel like trying my hand at that too.
so here goes to a new chapter.
Hey everyone! I've been photographing for a relatively short time now, basically spamming my Facebook page with them, but then it just hit me recently that hey! I have an actual DeviantArt page I've been neglecting all this time! Didn't like how I named it before, so I deleted that name, pulled out a new one out of a random bout of inspiration, and here I AM :P
Looking forward to sharing the world in the weird way that I see it, and getting to know y'all as well!