ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.
ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled into the sheets.
you were always just out of reach.
iii.
i tried to break my fist against the wall
the day you left,
but i couldn’t punch hard enough
so i lay in bed nursing my bruised knuckles
and imagined you going to parties in hell,
drinking blood-red wine,
your skin glowing in the light of the flames,
decomposed corpses playing you jazz,
party-goers flocking around you like
the devil queen you were.
iv.
i imagined you everywhere.
you were a ghost
and i was haunted.
v.
i saw you once, years later,
and i had to blink to make sure you were real.
you were so normal
so banal
so human.
you weren’t an angel come to save me,
nor an otherworldly creature with moonlight in your veins,
nor an all-powerful being with burning skin
and cruel, bloody lips
and perfume that smelled like bottled sulfur;
you were just a girl,
riding a crowded subway at rush hour
and you smiled at me with recognition in your eyes,
but you didn’t say hello.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.
ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled into the sheets.
you were always just out of reach.
iii.
i tried to break my fist against the wall
the day you left,
but i couldn’t punch hard enough
so i lay in bed nursing my bruised knuckles
and imagined you going to parties in hell,
drinking blood-red wine,
your skin glowing in the light of the flames,
decomposed corpses playing you jazz,
party-goers flocking around you like
the devil queen you were.
iv.
i imagined you everywhere.
you were a ghost
and i was haunted.
v.
i saw you once, years later,
and i had to blink to make sure you were real.
you were so normal
so banal
so human.
you weren’t an angel come to save me,
nor an otherworldly creature with moonlight in your veins,
nor an all-powerful being with burning skin
and cruel, bloody lips
and perfume that smelled like bottled sulfur;
you were just a girl,
riding a crowded subway at rush hour
and you smiled at me with recognition in your eyes,
but you didn’t say hello.
Literature
and we'll rot
oh, poet boy,
you are not
thumbed bruises
or honey bones
& you have only
ever been a god
inside of your own head
Literature
The Waste World
She said create the world, so I did. I made it dark and dusty, coughed up from my own black lungs. I gave the trees an ashen hue and the ground a color to match the starless sky. The creatures were murmuring oozes, globs of drying acrylic that inked across the orb of my bubbling imagination.
Repulsing, it was in fact the product of an industrial mind. I was born from man's smog goddess and, if memory serves me, her breath was laced in exhaust which I inhaled nightly with her songs. She was soothing and complacent, her voice smokey like a hazy bar. No one could deny her features were hideous beyond belief. Her skin dripped pollution like morp
Literature
Skeletal Foundations
it's the city that makes you,
she says when her industrialized eyes
start to flicker. her heart rushes
like a subway falling late and
the patterns in her skin remind you of
striated architecture (reminds you of how
everything's human in its own way)
we're precarious concrete skeletons
crafted by men praying we won't fall,
and we yearn- you know- we ache
for a sense of vitality and being to
enter us and make us more than a
pale ghost of an engineer's dreams and
maybe we have our own shadowy corners,
too.
commotion exists betwixt her ears and
she's a destination, a place to rest and
catch your breath but not to settle
down b
Suggested Collections
partially inspired by this song. 
lately i've been having trouble writing anything at all. hoping that will change soon.
comments are always appreciated
lately i've been having trouble writing anything at all. hoping that will change soon.
comments are always appreciated
© 2013 - 2024 aprilwednesday
Comments22
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Incredible work!