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Loneliness is only your heart trying to say...So... here is the second -blog- that I feel like writing:
Being lonely... is a problem that can creep on you without you ever knowing what it is. Sometimes you just feel so saddened and like everything just really sucks! It's a terrible feeling and it's even worse some times when you finally realize it's just loneliness and you can't do anything about it, or so you think.
Some people think surrounding themselves with people or work or television will make them feel less out of place in the world. Sure it may work for a while... but what about when you lay your head to rest at night? It's such a heavy burden on your heart to feel like you have no one around to love or appreciate you. I know, cause I've felt this sadness... It was a large part of my childhood.
It still is a part of my life sometimes and I feel like I'm beating myself up because I stay in and seem to have no life but a virtual one. Could I change that? Ya, easily. But you know... I don't really want to right now. My soul
Life's Purpose and how much of a pain it is...So I've decided... keeping up with a blog would just be waaay too annoying so instead of that anytime I have some message to share I'm going to -blog- it on DeviantArt. I figured you can't go too wrong there and plus DA advertises it for you! Blogs are far too annoying for me. But warning you... I tend to ramble so keep reading if you really want to get what I have to say. I'm terrible at forming my words!
So... my message for any who may stumble upon it:
One's life purpose has always been the most difficult thing for humankind. We struggle to find our mission in life and what meaning our lives have! Why do we struggle with all of our pain and why does Creator seem to hate some of us and make our lives miserable???
I have been through a lot... in this life and a few lives before. I've been through pain and hell and terrible emotional turmoil. Yes, feisty, friendly, protective, loyal little me even wanted to kill myself when I was younger. My father was the worst person in my life, my p
QuestionableUp all night,
tossing and turning.
Unable to know the reason why.
It's all right though,
my yearning and burning,
because it will all get better in time.
Dreams quite probable,
everything not quite as it should be.
There's something here,
that can't quite focus.
I feel very near,
of the answers I seek,
but I'm just out of reach.
What am I doing?It has to be a mistake,
this feeling inside.
These things aren't right,
please show me how to hide!
I can't seem to get away,
it's just not right.
Every time we meet,
my heart feels so tight.
Never felt like this before,
I can't help but crave more.
Despite everything I've known,
I feel like my heart can soar.
My stomach twists in knots,
my every breath stops.
My words come out freely,
it's trust to the tops.
This can't be right,
every doubt screaming in my head.
Still somehow it's there,
even as I lay in my bed.
Like fire through my veins,
this impossible feeling.
Every day we speak it grows stronger,
it's like my scars, they're healing.
Every wall I have up,
seems to come crumbling down.
My idea of love,
was always so profound.
Lately I've found,
I'm rethinking myself.
Everything I knew,
no longer can my knowing be up on that shelf.
No one else knows,
how could they understand?
As I turn around,
and deny who I said I am.
Things are getting so difficult,
and I just can't stop it.
A Broken Memory -Part 2-She felt as if she were weighed down by a thousand ton weights. She couldn't move, like her body was numb, she couldn't even wiggle her toes or twitch her fingers but still she felt everything. It was like she was in some kind of conscious coma. She could hear all around her, the beeping of a hospital life line, the air rushing through vents, the muffled breaths of men behind a wall. She couldn't believe it, how heightened her senses seemed to be. She could hear everything; feel everything from the binds around her limbs and torso to the cold table beneath her.
The loudest sound however was the quick labored breathing of someone. The breath sounded smaller than a human's but still large. She heard a shift, the breather moving, claws scraping against another table, a familiar whimper.
Kujo! Nothing came out, just her thoughts and the rush of her breath. Her mouth wouldn't open, her vocal cord wouldn't work. She couldn't even open her eyes, gaze dashing back and forth in darkness. She wa
A Broken Memory -Part 1-The day was moving into dusk, the sun barely visible over the tops of the shortest buildings. The streets were wet with the evening rain, puddles being kicked up by the occasional passing car. All was quiet except the scuff of boots and the slight click-click of four paws on the concrete.
The street lights flickered on as the last rays of light disappeared behind the horizon; the artificial light illuminating a pale young girl and a large brindle Dane.
Dark brown-red hair peaked from beneath the girl's hood, her face aptly hidden by a thin black hood from her jacket. She walked casually, seeming in no hurry at all with a hand in her pocket, a hand on the leash. Her feet scooted along, barely coming off the ground, weighed down by heavy black combat boots. Every now and then a small rock would be found in her path, soon sent off flying into the street by the thick cover on her toe.
The dog suddenly froze, ears perking atop his head, looking down an alley across the street. He sni
Stop putting words in my mouthYou shove your fingers
down my throat,
and insert words
I never spoke,
in desperate hopes
to make me choke
my pearly gates
that feeds me
swallow the universedecay remembers you --
fever breath and ocean-eyed ghosts,
secrets that smoke with poison desire.
we wake only to drink, to devour
the naked voices of dismantled stars.
glass kisses turn into granite lips
and pillars of salt; a haunted embrace
melts into the cracks of the universe.
Love is not blindLove is not blind. It can see clearly.
It looks past the boundaries.
It defies the judging stares of society.
It is a force to be reckoned with.
eidolon longingbreath salts open rooms
that entomb my idle hants.
in gloomy aberrance.
when the pulse was flaunted
remain the pursuit
of lanterns haunted.
questions flung like
furtive surface glances
ghost through iris eyelines
with an epiphany;
this search sparked
full body shudderings.
shuttering every window
and portal alike,
a light threatened by
the tending toward pulsatory spikes.
aorta, i spied you
spidering open your eyes
sliding the pursuit of dawn
through your dim sight.
with the sun, beat,
you forge forward for
warded window panes,
a rhythmic wonder repeat.
but eyelids live locked,
a careless cage holding
in this socket shock.
tock and tick that slick swindle options;
your image a lit blossom in a bottomless pit.
i’m reaching, but god, this
isn’t possible when
you’re this obstinate;
i am a fossil you’ve discarded
with hardly a sniff.
snuff me out, i’ll sputter devout and wish
my cardiac espousal had been more
eight.sometimes i feel
life's been played like a puppet
on a tangled
[yet still i'm lifeless without you .]
seven.my nights for the last weeks have
consisted of liquid
poison, smoke in
and the chilled sound of
wake up with my
head half off the sidewalk,
surrounded by shards of
and a faint touch of
[ill pick myself back up on my own two
feet.. and stumble back;
she had come seeking a riotshe found religion in silence.
there wasn't a prophet's bone
in her body, not a holy cell of skin, but
somehow she was something
to believe in. she called herself a woman, not an angel nor
madonna, and the crucifix on her tongue could
not make her hold her words.
they called her witch and called her
goddess, made of something
such as marble, but she said she wasn't one
to be revered -
icons made of glass were
made to break, she claimed she was not
born to die;
(silence is found in the loudest of tongues, for speaking is an art
not all have learned-)
Who are we to make these assumptions?
Who are we to doubt what is true?
They said humans would never fly,
they said the Titanic would never sink,
they said that Earth could not touch the stars,
and still we landed on the moon.
They said cars were unrealistic,
and now everywhere we look we see them.
They said we'd never win World War I,
and yet here we are after World War II.
So many things done that were said to never be,
so many things won that were lost in the sea.
So many treasures retrieved from places untold,
so many things learned and so many things to unfold.
With all that we know,
and all that we've seen,
think next time,
before you judge what is:
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More