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ChurchThe last time I went to church, I couldn't take communion because I couldn't have nicey nice feelings about my mother, and you are only supposed to take it if you have forgiven those who have wronged you.
I tried once again to forgive and I could not bring myself to feel love for her and I left the sanctuary and I cried and I cried until I ACHED in the bathroom;
tears and hot snot making marks on my dress, because I WANTED to have those nicey nice feelings and I had prayed for them
and I had worn spots in the shape of my knees in the carpet at every alter I had ever known.
It was a familiar pattern.
I had prayed for forgiveness for my sins and I had begged over and over for the ability to forgive others. Twenty years of inadequacy.
And again, a woman prayed with me.
She held my hands and handed me tissue, and she prayed such a nice prayer about how grateful she was that the Lord was using her to bring me healing.
She had tears shining in her eyes as she talked about how blessed she was
UntitledIf I were to kiss you; even your forehead
I would find blood on my lips
Yours, mine, or some victim's--who knows.
If I were to hold you, my arms would be empty half the time
You are not always all here
I'd apply my dripping heart to your wounds but to be honest I don't think I have that healing touch,
Nor have I magic tears
But I will still sit here, friend of my bones
Though my presence will still leave you feeling alone
We will lean back to back, and together...
Together we will burn.
Breathe DeepI am at the bottom of the sea
No, the ocean; I am down in the depths
My fingers and heels pressed into the sand
My body lifting slightly with the currents.
I am here and my eyes are open
A blue so deep it implodes
The darkness is a relief
I see nothing, finally.
Digging my fingers in, I inhale
As deep as my lungs will allow
I taste plankton on my tongue and
There is a burning in my nose but I take it all in.
Through my eyelids and my kneecaps
Though my lower back and through my teeth
And I feel my heart lifting, down here in the deep.
I am at home here, where my lungs ought to rupture
Where most fear what lurks in the murk
I am more alive under half a planet of water
Than I ever was on mere dirt.
I would never have known, if not for you
I owe you so much; you and this cinderblock you gave me
Such a thoughtful goodbye, I won't ever forget
Your loving hands, and how they saved me.
UntitledMy pen is not silent. It burns in the night, keeping me awake until it is satisfied.
I am listening, and my heart is full of fire pumping through my veins to light my eyes.
I am not gagged by contentment any longer.
I am full of light and of dark and of peace and of war and I will bleed flames out through my fingertips until the world knows me by the scorch marks I leave on the pages that their hearts are printed on.
I will write, and they will feel my fire.
I will write, and they too will burn.
Writer's CurseYou find me in the night, when sleep refuses to take me
When my eyes are heavy and my mind wanders paths it used to know
Reckless, daring the dark to reach out and grab hold
Come and get me, old friend; come and fight me, old foe.
I will meet you gladly where the streetlights no longer reach
Use my hand and write the things that I'm afraid to speak.
Happiness is lovely and I am grateful for all I hold
But I forget to appreciate the warmth, I find, when I do not feel the cold.
Show me what you've got back there in the corners of my mind
I refuse to shy away from whatever you may find
Broken memories are just fuel to add to my burning fire
Bring it on, do your worst, make me a god damned pyre
Do not let me fall complacent, my old friend, my old foe
See I don't intend this life to end in a mere faint glow
Come closer still, I welcome you, with eager, open arms
Cut deep and draw me open, bare my bones and do me harm
Remind me of exactly what I am capable of
Remind me why I fight, why I wri
Cigarette SmokeCigarette smoke reminds me of brick walls
Cool to the touch and rough on my back
It makes me think of stairwells and sidewalks
Forgotten butts and gum in the cracks.
When my nostrils burn I remember people
People I loved and people I miss
People who gave me good advice, bad advice, whatever
Life stories in 10 minute increments.
Cigarette smoke brings me back to secrets
Things only admitted outside the back door
Crazy theories, ideas and plans
Painted with lips and dirty fingers and ashes.
When I wrinkle my nose and cough a little
I remember glowing embers in the dark
I think of the bonds I have made and broken
Silently leaning shoulder to shoulder.
Cigarette smoke doesn't seem to bother me
Though I've never smoked one for myself
I sit on upturned milk crates empty handed
And yet my heart is calm and full.
When Stars CollapseThis is how you bespeckled my bones
with bewilderment: you kissed hushed heart
whispers and slumbering secrets
into my fingertips. You infused awe
into my joints, causing me
to ask how snowflakes got their
shape and how long would it take
to get from the Sun to Capella.
You taught me that energy is neither
created or destroyed; stars do not die.
Eyes washed with emerald sorrows you
told me that they evolve, they change
into something entirely different,
or not so different.
I now know we are made of the same
particles as someone or something else.
We began someplace together.
We're made of so much more than "star-stuff",
we are made of each other.
The Breaths Between Usi'm minutes away
from the collision site
the breaths between us
and the lost time
clock guts, sprung
our hallway uncoils
his walnut lean
i'm seconds away
from the before
of our near-miss
the beads of air
and the imperfections of
in a rumored heart
a stuttering mass
this broken belled
has lost hold
of the lives we live
its skullsong rings
the same vibration
I am me. Who are you?I am fragments
of every person
I've met; every
memory made; every
bond formed and tie broken.
I am an orchestra
of people's opinions;
each snide comment
each casual remark
each passing compliment
I am a library
of forgotten lies
and fake smiles
and empty promises.
I am a sky of hope;
filled with stars
which carry the wishes
of the people I have encountered
I am never alone
for their influence will forever
taint my soul and
remind me of their hopes,
dreams and pain.
This is who I am.
Who are you?
In a world with no mercy
Day after day
Until the end
The day I die
And then maybe
I'll find some peace
Love comes in so many forms,
growing and changing swiftly with the ages.
A mama recording her sons first walk to her husband over seas with a shaky camera.
"It's only a storm," the big brother says to his sister whiles he takes out the instant hot chocolate.
A teenager opening her slammed door, ready to admit to her parents she doesn't hate them.
On a worn blanket, a college kid handing his boyfriend a rose, hoping it will be enough.
Girls squealing as they throw their diplomas up into air and go out into the real world together.
A father proudly patting his wife's baby bump, a first miracle.
A women kissing her father goodbye as she turns off the machine that keeps him alive.
A middle aged chemistry teacher handing back a failing student a A+ paper.
An older couple holding hands, content with the knowledge of the mountains they've overcome together.
Love extends past the page, from my hand into others souls.
on remembering to breathe:i.
you can't hold it in for forever.
your lungs weren't
made to bear the weight
of this world, they weren't made
to left unexpanded
and unexplained -
it is not phenomenon that wakes you
when paralysis hits in the
night, it is physiology telling you that
not everything happens on automatic, okay?
(at least not for always)
you're born like a time bomb, with
only so many beats of
your heart in place to tick away day by day -
your words, they're the same.
there's a time limit
on your tongue, so say something that
means something - use words
that dig in and rip out hearts, use words that
curl around your fingers and worm their
way into your soul.
use words to make something
beautiful. something remembered.
never leave three things
left unsaid because they can be three
words that mean everything -
i'm not telling you to save your breath.
i'm begging you not to waste it.
sing. sing enough to take your breath
away because even though
it leaves you gasping, it fills up that
That rebuilding trust is difficult
Would be an understatement of the highest order.
It's a lot like relearning how to walk.
With each small step,
I keep thinking I'll fall--
And I may--
But I haven't yet.
My heart and left leg
Throb in protest,
But there's a certain joy in progress
That keeps me moving forward.
CoffeeI love you like I love coffee
A comforting aroma, bringing discomforting memories
See, I can't take you straight
I sugarcoat you and whitewash you until you suit my tastes
You are fantastic over ice and with so much caramel and whipped cream
that I can no longer taste your bitterness
Or when you are full of Bailey's
When you are mocha
I love you like I love coffee, darling--
That is to say,
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More