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Deviant for 5 Months
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Statistics 170 Deviations 673 Comments 2,457 Pageviews

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nights at home
and paper cuts all up and down my
shallow pain daily dose of
reality between joints
      (and not the ones whose smell makes me nauseous)
slide flesh along slivers of trees and shiver—
they may not be serrated and
i might not be sedated but it
sure fucking feels like it
:iconand-speak:and-speak 3 0
i am allowed to breathe i am a breather :iconand-speak:and-speak 18 2
erosion of majesty
and each is a piece of calving ice
a piece shaved from the mind to
             lay atop the spine
      they pile up on the neck and it stiffens
captured in a locked freezer
water’s heavier than it looks and
when the crystalline waves break they shatter—
      (there’s a difference between frost and snow and
      only one cries when it leaves—
      the other sobs)
tears melt down the back, sink into the bones and when
      winter comes around again
it’ll freeze, toxic saltwater weighing the body down
      to sink in the spring floods
and while watching snowfall is peaceful
be reminded
      the crumbling cryosphere moans
      under sun-pressure, under intense heat and
      sweats, erosion of majesty
              erasure of life
:iconand-speak:and-speak 8 4
id [iii] :iconand-speak:and-speak 5 3
all tired, all tried (turpentine)
and the turpentine
      (which doesn't smell like
      pine or lavender but
      paint thinner)
leaves a film over my fingers
and i start to wonder if i've
inhaled too much, if i’ve
breathed in too much, if i’ve
licked my fingers recently
pizza grease and paint taste the same
      if you close your eyes and
      running out of memory was never so easy
as when you did it for me
flip the bloody pillow to the clean side
to hide the pretentious nature of suicide
and if you don't stop to think
blood tastes a lot like kerosene and

these life receipts are piling up in the office, sir
would you like me to find a shredder because
we both know we’d all be better
              off without their heads and keep on singing
loud as brontide
soft as butterflies
but in the end it’s all silent, all tired, all tried
:iconand-speak:and-speak 14 6
and please do tell me again
      (i whisper to the decaying buck on the side of the railroad tracks
      head whipped around, impossible acute angles)
what does it feel like
because it feels like
      im going home to kill myself this
train cant move any faster
              (as you’ve learned, and
              paid dearly for the sin of
      broken silver out of plastic
phosphene vision mists the
eyes and watches patiently from above the trees
through the window
it's too late to convince me
sang-froid is a disease and
 im in the late stages
   used to blood and needles and
     hospital walls
        resemble this metal box
impelling down tracks
      waiting to meet the end
:iconand-speak:and-speak 12 2
february fourth two thousand seventeen
and when she woke up bruised and bleeding
from places she shouldn’t be
                         (shouldn’t be anywhere)
      and in a room not her own
      and in a pain she’d never known
      and with a vacant mind hungry to recall
              the forgotten night
                    she knew
:iconand-speak:and-speak 14 4
drunkandhigh :iconand-speak:and-speak 5 0
john wood
and if i still had your number
i probably would have asked by now if
you ever thought of me
       and in the refractions of your green
       eyebrow piercing and long, dyed black hair
       there was juvie and foster homes and lust
       you were fourteen and i was helping andrew
find orange salamanders in the
trunk of a rotting tree and you
showed us how to dig them up in the mud
      (more gently than i braid my hair did you)
       you had a black flip phone i had a
purple one
guitar nights in my tent i thought
       what a strange boy
       and when i left i thought i might hug you
but my father was there and i thought
               maybe i’d fall
                       your forever
:iconand-speak:and-speak 12 4
tinted glass
and strike-out
marbles tallied, playing in the street i
play with glass bullets and
with tinted matte red i
        cut short parole i
        shot up your vessel i
        robbed you of your heartbeat you
        robbed me of my
:iconand-speak:and-speak 13 0
delivery (drive-by)
and i almost hoped
the dominoes would topple over
        notice the lines forming
        notice the dots connecting
        notice the romanticism in
stopping the car with an inquisitive look
    to smear a wave on my mime-box
with greasy fingers
delivery boy you
drive too fast you
don’t close your eyes enough you
don’t you
                floor it
:iconand-speak:and-speak 11 0
night on the bench
and clouds redder than my
eyes the day my
        silence became my
voice and
                absence became my
natural state and
the way her hair lit up before those
        cut off my air
                cut off the
monotone faded into the warm windows
        yellow faded light into the walls
        pale purple skies fade to
        black nights
        sleepless blue

        skin creeps in through the throat
through the branches of the neck
and i wait for inevitable fatigue
        on the bench where i always see
        figures with their smoke
and moonlit shadows dive into shallow, grated pools on
the rusted third floor fire escape
                (beneath whic
:iconand-speak:and-speak 15 2
     and scratched into the margin
with cheap black ink—
was all i could read over his shoulder
and i thought maybe he was high but
when he smiled at me i knew
      he wasn’t
:iconand-speak:and-speak 24 15
and there’s this boy
      (that boy from class
      the one about islamic art
      the one about pattern and architecture
      and precision in six-pointed stars and
      taught by the scatterbrain)
he writes all the time
and doodles hourglasses and mermaid tails
      i asked him once
(a sudden courage that must have been sapped from the depths)
what he writes, and why--
because there’s nothing on the board
and he doesn't look the type
and he shrugged--
“anything, really, i guess for the sake of writing”
:iconand-speak:and-speak 14 0
midnight fog :iconand-speak:and-speak 9 0
and cracking lava
        beneath skin splits terra-cotta
of veins in the neck and forearms and
the whole body is patterned with these
ceramic fault lines
aesthetic brokenness of fired clay
        kneaded into tight vertebrae
slipped and scored and glazed in sanguine red
welcome the spirits to the vessel and
plug up the leaks with excess
      breathe baked earth and
try not to shrivel under this wrinkled sky
:iconand-speak:and-speak 15 2


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
and i am not so much a spectacular person as i am just a spectacle

they/them pronouns | infj | neurology hobbyist | life cartographer

i know i've been a bit obscure about what exactly it is i relapse on, and i'll keep it that way for curiosity's sake as well as anonymity. it also makes my poetry more of a game, doesn't it. oh, lets try and figure out what's wrong with &, shall we?

because while the first relapse from a few months back was a shock to the system thats all fun and good but it lasted a long while didn't it, and i was disappointed beyond all atmospheres of existence. yes but you see this time it was twice the relapse, twice in one night and you know, i don't think it'll last very long. its been less than a week and you see im doing better than i thought i would. margaret is doing better too, not that it affects her in any way. 

and that's just no good because my mind thinks huh, no one knows no one even has a hint, and im doing just fine, so why not tonight, why not tomorrow, why not make it a habit again, not healthy by any means but an easy secret as i know well, and so damn familiar. we all like familiarity even if we hate it. 

and im not asking for help because im well aware i need it but simutaneously i know precisely what is wrong and precisely how to fix it. understanding the brain as well as i do makes you that way, makes you know why you do everything, why you want to do everything, and while it's fascinating and all it's still quite annoying. so while the first relapse wasn't severe it lasted a while and this one is somewhat worse i don't foresee it dragging on. my mind says if i do it more the less of a problem i'll have in the end. which is, obviously, wrong, seeing as the whole connotation fo this discussion is not positive in the least. if the relapse was writing poetry then we'd be having a lovely metaphorical discussion but we're not, are we.

so i've gathered the balances and i want to continue with the habit and let it 'heal' me because long term damage is minimal has little to no interference with my everyday life and i function quite well. on the other hand i find it primitive and basic and find it somewhat of a hassle. too emotional. emotions are strength, yes, i understand that but my mind still shuns them as also primitive and basic. i've been working on it but im too practical to devote much time to it (could be breathing or something). i'm so illogical sometimes my own idiocy threatens to hurl me through a window (defenestration, for curiosity, from the word 'fenêtre' in french).  so while i have a decent argument on both sides the practical one (the former) is in the lead in their case but the strongest opponent makes the point of it requiring lots of monitoring. no fun there. 

maybe i'll ask the dragons to convince me otherwise. 

oh, and, no, i'm not crazy. i'm an artist. 
some synonyms make a big difference, don't they. 

take care of yourselves better than i do <3

  • Listening to: new plumbing


Add a Comment:
JAStar4 Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2017   Photographer
Thank you for the llama.
I hope you have an amazing day.
catloversjt Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2017   Writer
your poetry is absolutely wonderful and you deserve so much recognition.
and-speak Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
oh my gosh, whoa, thank you so much <3
i don't know what to say, honestly 
catloversjt Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2017   Writer
you're quite welcome :aww:
PeriodicFable Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2017   Writer
Thank you dearly for the favourite! Hug 
celestialparanoia Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2017
hello i know ive been gone for a while and i havent been faving yr stuff and all...but i am still lurking..and loving yr poetry like All The Time !!! ok bye i hope u have a wonderful day
and-speak Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
you are always so kind celeste <3
celestialparanoia Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2017
BleedingProphecies Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2017  Student Writer
Thank you for collecting my work! 
wordeea Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
thank you for the fav :)
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