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SoggyHe never saw it coming. Like good things in life claim to, it came to the boy waiting, waiting for the school bus to come, waiting for his mom and new sister to come home, waiting to graduate, waiting to grow up—waiting. It would be said about him that he was the boy who could wait forever as long as he knew what he was waiting for. But he never saw it coming.
His bowl sat on the steps, the grains inside growing soggier by the minute. He hated soggy cereal. Around the bowl, spots of milk were soaking into the hardwood panels.
The school bus had been early that morning. It was parked, not in its usual spot across the road from his house, but a ways down the road. Its flashing lights were overpowered and ignored by the ear-splitting siren calls. Neighbors milled about, moving their lips instead of their feet—or their eyes. They never stopped staring. With each passing moment, the crowd grew.
A broken man sat on the curb across the road from the school bus with his face in his
What is it...?Is it "empty" if you were never filled with anything
before you became
filled with nothing?
Is it still "alone" if you were never
a part of something
in the absence of
the only person
who ever showed up?
Is it still "life"
if you don't feel
die on the inside?
Admit ItI’ve seen us
Not “together” like two people
walking down the street
at the same time;
sharing the same breath
after sharing a kiss.
I’ve imagined what a future
would be like
if it were you and I.
We’re the types
that could keep the fire
going long after
the coals had been
burned up and become ash.
I could pick your brain
for ages, dates, and historical facts…
I don’t think I could ever get tired of you.
You don’t have to,
It would be nice you did, though…
Haven’t you ever thought the same,
even for a second?
Rent me a room in your left ventricle...What good is a heart if one does not
Utilize its chambers
To hold stories,
To hide secrets,
To invite friends in
When they have nowhere else to go ...?
What good is the human brain
If one does not
Exercise its muscle
By solving problems,
By fixing hearts that have become to full
Or have been empty for too long?
What good is the human body
If one does not
Stretch its arms around another,
Help another up when they have fallen,
Sit with those who cannot yet stand?
What good am I
If I don't
Take your pain away
When it becomes too much for you to handle?
If I don't
Help you to see the reflection
That shows the real you?
What good are we,
Any of us,
And what good is a brain
And a heart
If nothing is meant to be shared?
Untitled.I feel like I’m becoming more “me” than I used to be—
Before, I was afraid of “me”,
So I would just say
“I don’t know who I am” –
Or maybe I really didn’t know…
And this is my journey to self-discovery?
Maybe I’m just putting together pieces of people
I know I like…
Whatever it is that I’m doing…
I think I like who it’s allowing me to become.
BulletproofI’d like to think that I am
But the truth is,
I’m simply a glass
For different reasons altogether.
The Season Before The SnowBillowing
through the curtains, the wind tried to whisper to her. Secrets she
needed to hear, secrets that scared her. She turned her head away, and
the whispers feel on deaf ears. Vengeance - the chilling fingers
grasped her skin, to the bone she shivered. Fear creeping in through
every pore, stealing her bravado, steeling her blood.
She turned back to see the spirits mocking her false courage, enticing her with
the secrets she longed to fear. Amber spells at their fingertips and
shriveled curses at their command - theirs was the season of curses,
the season of death.
Before this, before tonight she was someone else.
Never had the thought crossed her mind that this season could be
anything but pain. But everything changed the night she saw him. In the
cluster of fall spirits - everything changed the moment she began to
listen. She had never given any thought to the season before the
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
YouIf you’re a girl, you’re a girl.
If you’re a boy, you’re a boy.
If you’re white, you’re white.
If you’re black, you’re black.
If you’re gay, you’re gay.
If you’re bi, you’re bi.
If you’re straight, you’re straight.
If you’re religious, you’re religious.
If you’re an atheist, you’re an atheist.
If you’re mentally disabled, you’re still human.
If you’re physically disabled, you’re still human.
For everything you are:
So who are they to judge you for who you are?
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
daydreams and monsters.she was a girl.
she ran with the moon,
chased fireflies in the bluegrass, and
watched the reflection of sunsets in rain puddles.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
but to the dragonflies she was a queen,
and to the mirror she was a sister.
the moon was her prince, and the
blinking windows were the eyes
that kept her safe.
she spent her nights making wishes, and she
dragged her fingers along the shooting stars
that were tangled with her vertebrae.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
her body was a river
her mind was an ocean
and her heart was the sky.
she lived in a world where
doves flew in the sea and
whales swam in the
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HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More