ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
There was more joy in your smile than
in a lifetime of heartfelt hallelujahs.
Oh, but you never smiled just for me.
You insist on calling me at three AM
when all the world is dead to sleep.
Oh, but you know I'll be here listening.
Tell me again how being cryptic makes you special,
why there are blindfolds on both of us.
Oh, but you never cared enough to see.
I tore brain cells and hamstrings,
learning to walk and write to you at the same time.
Oh, but you never hesitated to walk right over me
and now you're afraid because my voice
is just another death knell hallelujah.
Oh,There's no one left to weep for thee.
Pick apart a loyal heart,and pay for liberation.
Hope is thin to cull the din, for no one heeds damnation.
in a lifetime of heartfelt hallelujahs.
Oh, but you never smiled just for me.
You insist on calling me at three AM
when all the world is dead to sleep.
Oh, but you know I'll be here listening.
Tell me again how being cryptic makes you special,
why there are blindfolds on both of us.
Oh, but you never cared enough to see.
I tore brain cells and hamstrings,
learning to walk and write to you at the same time.
Oh, but you never hesitated to walk right over me
and now you're afraid because my voice
is just another death knell hallelujah.
Oh,There's no one left to weep for thee.
Pick apart a loyal heart,and pay for liberation.
Hope is thin to cull the din, for no one heeds damnation.
Literature
Three Views of Death
1.
she is sitting on the stairs
she holds her knees
close
to the center
of her body
her mother is by the couch
her eyes full
like a glass
of untouched water
there are voices
in the kitchen
-speaking soft
she doesn't know them
the yellow light
of the living room
moves with
distant shadows
she breathes
she doesn't think
about her brother
she doesn't
think
2.
church windows
hidden sun
shedding light
i remember
the carpet moving
green shadow
flat beneath the weight
of my feet
his face is
sudden
pale and
too soft
one hand
folded white
over the other
i feel a silence
waiting
teeth folded
in the heavy dark
swollen like a river
3.
t
Literature
Post Traumatic Storm Disorder
Wake up every morning to snow.
A blanket so graceful, inviting sleep,
Just a rest in bliss forevermore:
Full of nightmares from which you shall wake up no more
Watch yourself smothered as if a lobotomized man under a pillow,
Crushed under an infinite blizzard death becomes pleasure,
Even while demons haunt you in hell,
You'll beg an end to the storm just so as to shrivel in your cell
Did you ever give permission to this storm of noise?
The snow is but a symptom; sleep an effect,
The storm is baked based on one defect,
Based on the fact your life automatically provides permission for everything it destroys
It is done, hurricane finished an
Literature
not a foundation, a trap
both blood & storm
beckon
backward
magpie
flap your wings
it is time now for freedom
finer things
for wild things
don't let your voice go silent
discard what broke you & begin
to build that home inside yourself
and only let the right ones in
Suggested Collections
This is what happens when I force myself to write. I'm sorry if you read through this. I'll do better soon. Promise.
© 2015 - 2024 MozartsNemesis
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Comment Flagged as Spam