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The Suicide of the VirginAugust is the cruelest month, breeding
Cypress on the campus, mixing
Change and unfamiliarity, stirring
Poison into these drinks.
The promise of demise kept my heart warm, covering
Sorrow with plastered smiles, feeding
An insightful mind with rotting tubers.
Death came quickly, jumping from the highest building.
In that soft rain; I came to a halt on the concrete,
My memories of you in the sunlight, my last thoughts,
And how we sat in the stairwell, for hours talking.
Wie werden uns wiedersehen.
When I was young, staying with my grandfather,
Poor widower, he took me on a walk,
and I was happy. He said, Maria,
Maria, listen to me. And he told me never to fear death.
For it is inevitable, a part of life.
I went home and contemplated what it meant to die.
Why does this feeling clutch at my heart, why does it grow
from what was once full of love? I am but a daughter of man.
And I know not much more than the fact
that I am broken, an image of what has been.
And death merely gives the
WretchWretched soul, wretched soul.
The clock strikes four-
but never moves.
You look to the window,
for the ones you have lost
(begging for the pity of your womb).
Alone you'll perish;
Empty as a dusty cellar.
And although the fault lies with only you,
it is something you shall never understand.
:R a i n:The rain fell endlessly from the sky, each drop rhythmically hitting the old roof. It was especially audible from the attic in which I sat, watching the rain hit the lake from the singular, cracked window in the dusty room. Slowly, I traced nonsensical figures on the window, using the fog made from my damp breath as a form of paint. Staring at it for a moment, I suddenly became incredibly unhappy at my art and wiped it away with my jacket sleeve.
That was when I noticed a figure walking to the lake shore, small from where I sat but seemed like a girl in her late teens. Slowly, ever so slowly, she walked into the water, until she was waist deep. She looked to the sky, her now sopping wet hair sticking to her face. Thinking back, she seemed to gather some form of… Courage from whatever she found in that rainy sky, before she peacefully sank into the water. The villagers didn’t find her until it was much too late.
“That’s the fifth one this year,” I murmured
WinterThese oceans of blood,
consuming my soul.
Like sheep to the slaughter,
fear seeps into my bones.
I ponder the meaning of the few
seconds my life is
in the wake of these magnificent
my pockets are empty and my
mind is blank.
GrudgeMonsters crawl from the depths
of my soul.
I find my mind cannot take the horror
of years past,
while my heart pleads for silence
[that I can't find]
A step above the restLook down at me from above
(atop that towering plain) -
and wonder why all those ants
gnaw at you 'till you're falling like a
wave crashing to the shore
of some long-lost
my sun-bleached bones lay upon the
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
Evil or kind?Negativity makes me smile
My poses and laughter
Suit the best villains
But I care so much about my friends
About their emotions and well being
And I always cheer them up
Am I evil?
Am I kind?
Maybe a little bit of both...
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
death of a sweet sixteeni found my house on
the market the
other day -
- it was 2011 again,
but the sun had set
on my nights of terror
nose to the barstool and
two black eyes, a dish
towel caught in my throat.
i keep trying to find
pieces of myself that
no longer exist - a dead dog,
baby blue walls, whispered
it sold for six figures,
and i can only wish
that i could sell my pain
for that much, but no
one would be willing to buy
it, as i am it's sole host,
the only one who
one of these days i will
drive by that sad eyed
grey house before we are
gone for good, and i will set
up with my camera, snapping
photos of my whitewashed hurt.
and if i linger too long,
so be it, as i've spent so
many nights ruined,
scraped away like the stars
once stuck on my
the bank may own my house,
but it will never own my heart.
A Cup of TeaCome on in and
Take a seat,
Sit with me a while
What you are and
Where you're from
Have a cup of tea,
Stay a while
To learn about you,
To know you
Your pain and
I will listen
Reveal to me
Your origin and
I will accept you
For you are me
You are my demon,
A part of myself,
I will never reject you
Care for a second cup?
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
ConfrontationI shed a tear
The damage will be severe
Run away in fear?
I'll fight until the coast is clear!
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
Dead Man's SwitchIn control, then not -
Sudden loss of grip.
Headlong to where?
Details lost, smudged, streaked.
Careening; no system of
No dead man's switch,
On a fast track -
With or without a god?
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More