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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
November 30, 2013
the arrangement of astral cords by ~brokengod--veins
Featured by BeccaJS
Suggested by sincebecomeswhy
Literature Text
This is how I'm built up, you see;
stars trapped in the linings of my
stomach and
the regurgitation of meteors
thundering
the chambers of a heart--
deconstructs of kaleidoscope-stained
glass.
This is the reason why my throat
bubbles like witch's brew--
the insides of my body form monsoons that
scratch my lungs and
disintegrate my windpipe,
an off-pitched dissonance
like wind chimes
whenever I try to shout or speak or
even whisper.
stars trapped in the linings of my
stomach and
the regurgitation of meteors
thundering
the chambers of a heart--
deconstructs of kaleidoscope-stained
glass.
This is the reason why my throat
bubbles like witch's brew--
the insides of my body form monsoons that
scratch my lungs and
disintegrate my windpipe,
an off-pitched dissonance
like wind chimes
whenever I try to shout or speak or
even whisper.
(and they tell me that you could sing
the moon to sleep when you cast
your faithful nothings on a star)
[and, no, I'm not some kind of genie
trapped in an expanse of dust
rather than a lamp]
Darling, I was never caught between
a collision of star-crossed galaxies,
nor an accident between the big bang
and a black hole.
- I was born a star-child.
and, no, they could never be beautiful.
Yet, I could never be as graceful.
I could never carve my face the way
gods do, and
I could never grant myself
any snuff of immortality like they tell you I could.
- All I ever was, am, or will be
is nothing
but a speck found in the skies darkened
by moondust,
waiting for a history that could never
unravel itself.
A map that could never locate.
So, darling, can you see me now?
Can you see the ruins broken by
1,580,000 light years of supernovas,
the crash courses of a thousand earth-bodies
finding an orbit?
- Can you?
Literature
Carving Constellations
Doctors carve out constellations,
stitch star maps into my skin,
a web of scars, a path to take
to find myself again.
My scars are sewn of haunted stars,
constellations but half-drawn;
ghosts of star-fire whispering words
that fade out with the dawn.
They took my rib from me,
ground it up, reformed it,
turned it into Eve;
made a girl with my own name:
a girl they say is me.
My fragile face now hers,
our spirit splintered,
she stands for nothing
I once stood for.
Deep scars fade
before their meanings are deciphered;
yet more maps unfold
to take their place.
Every new cut, every new stitch
remakes me into myself.
To secure my spine, they c
Literature
fragments.
You tell me that hearts don't work, that the sounds they make are just ghosts passing through. That bodies are pieces of everything everyone's lost slowly coming apart. Burning down childhood homes is a hobby of yours, and it's your plan to die that way, dancing with the flames. But oh, warrior of summers spent kissing too many girls with sharp teeth, put your lighter down. The night is a snow globe, and we are two figurines posed together as stars swirl around us. You can always burn yourself tomorrow. Be with me tonight, instead. Let the broken parts of me fit into the broken parts of you; I could be the piece you need to get your chest to
Literature
Foresight
Debra Mae was an astonishingly good programmer.
Her code always worked correctly the first time, and she never missed a deadline. Her workspace was immaculate, but curiously devoid of personal effects. No framed pictures, no toys, just her small collection of pens lined up according to color and an inbox for the occasional old-school paper input.
Her computer was equally immaculate. Nothing extra on her desktop, no stray icons. If one peeked at her browser history there’d be nothing there but work-related google searches and company stuff.
She dressed neatly but very plainly. I suspected she had four dresses in her wardrobe an
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A late, late submission of NaPoWriMo Day 19
because I really miss 's writing, and even if I can read it everyday, the fact that my devWatch messages have no signs of her makes me empty on the inside...
So, cheers to you
and kaleidoscope is one of beautiful words that are hard to use...
Forgive me for the usage...
EDIT: Jesus after one and a eighth years I finally changed 'decapitate' to 'disintegrate'. I was afraid of the wrong usage but loved the ring to it anyway and couldn't think of a better word-a dumb decision. I will confess that this is not the best of my work because it still has its tweaks but it is an honor to have a DD.
featured in:
chromeantennae's Adjusting The Antennae (Ep. 5)
PoetrynProseWatchers's 2013 about to end...
because I really miss 's writing, and even if I can read it everyday, the fact that my devWatch messages have no signs of her makes me empty on the inside...
So, cheers to you
and kaleidoscope is one of beautiful words that are hard to use...
Forgive me for the usage...
EDIT: Jesus after one and a eighth years I finally changed 'decapitate' to 'disintegrate'. I was afraid of the wrong usage but loved the ring to it anyway and couldn't think of a better word-a dumb decision. I will confess that this is not the best of my work because it still has its tweaks but it is an honor to have a DD.
featured in:
chromeantennae's Adjusting The Antennae (Ep. 5)
PoetrynProseWatchers's 2013 about to end...
© 2013 - 2024 brokengod--veins
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What to say. I felt I was a star out in darkest heavens. It got to me.