Against the Window Pane by driftingawake, literature
Literature
Against the Window Pane
Against the Window Pane
Memories, like shrapnel still stinging my brain.
This on which I choke would yet still persevere
when I carve off my captivity in vain.
Another grey sky to mock my void again,
Luxury would only be to shed this tear.
Memories, like shrapnel still stinging my brain.
All hope slain, all feeling drained, all over again.
Watch me as I am going down, disappear
when I carve off my captivity in vain.
Between my fingers to catch the wind and rain,
Shadows shroud and surround a smoldering fear.
Memories, like shrapnel still stinging my brain.
Dying dreams, splitting seams is all I attain.
Tear this physical body t
golden blue morning
cries tears of renewing dew
dawn's hollow whisper
a whitewashing sun
I yell out into the void
of a cloudless sky
walls of night close in
a shadowing clearity
of introspection
SOCprose _lonely love_ 9-16-04 by driftingawake, literature
Literature
SOCprose _lonely love_ 9-16-04
the syrum of rejection made me weak again, only this time it was almost expected. like poking a wound, i had subconsciously prepared myself to lessen the sting. he looked at me affectionately. when i returned the gesture, my heart openly told him that it is ok if he apologizes after, if he tells me later that he feels bad. i didnt exactly agree, but he didn't understand the language of my heart in our moment of connection, so i figured it all doesn't matter anyway.
i looked at the floor and questioned. questioned myself. why do i like to feel used? why do i like to feel rejected? why do i keep coming back to it? why do i let abandonme
Rainbow Group
"Color a picture.
A picture of how you feel."
So I started with some grass
a slow green line, straight,
and the color scribbled fast
I pause.
A girl, about my age, draws a picture
of her daddy that went to heaven.
A boy, about my age, draws a picture
of his mommy being ugly, again.
and I look at my waxy green grass
and the white empty sky and feel sad
for the girl and her dad that won't come back
for the boy and his mom that won't come back
but I'm not sad about my Dad
I'm not sad because He will come back.
I look to the dimpled rainbow
painted on the white cement wall
and all the smiles underneath it
holdi
Pennsylvanian Oak
Tall and proud, the respectful admiration of all,
breathtaking as she nears upon her season of Fall.
Stature, the embracing canopy bows,
I climb to hug on her nearest bough.
The glistening wood ingrained in each iris glows.
Skin, the delicate touch of moss to my toes.
The thick, earthen brown in each strand of hair
tells of rich fertile soil, warm and gentle to bare.
Her intricate filter of the high noon glare,
a shading shelter, rooted deep in maternal care.
Silent, a tree's intimate whisper, is her story reserved,
told only to those who lean close enough to let it be heard
Unmoved by the years of torrent, wind
hurt
whispers of want
looks of anticipation
the rhythm of my heart
begs you inside
naked up against you
body fluid in movement
aching in anxiety
pulsing
a deep throated growl
calls the desire from my veins
to become animal in form
called to release to conform
to the loss of control
pulling
tear into me
wide open, cry
break me
only to build me
new inside
everything black and blurred
swirling in my head
smell strong of you, of me
of us
for everything, all is one
rhythmically fighting
for control
to fulfill
desire
aching inside out
dig my claws into you
drag down your back
bite your neck
to drink you
drowning
immersed in the womb
a place not of this world
comforted weightlessness
rocking back and forth
muted sounds of water
swelling and waning
saturating
the muffled sound
of your heart's slowing beat
pulsating through the soul
drifting asleep
all muscles relax
no longer a part of your body
for it has surrendered
and is rendered useless
life just beyond reach
but you feel not pulled to grasp
dead but never so much alive
nothing else
all alone
blanketed in warmth
cradled to oblivion
Standing out in my place. by driftingawake, literature
Literature
Standing out in my place.
Standing out in my place.
My mind's eye filters the world around me
to better define myself.
A feral cat peruses the fringes of society
in the background, pawing for hope,
ragged with disregard and disgust
reflects my disposition;
for they look upon him as they do the shadow
of what once was my right leg.
A painted brick, screaming pink among earthen red
inspires curiosity, grabs attention.
The mask I wear called my personality
Bright and lively despite my history
and my loss
A woman's proud leather hairclip
so dark and intricately made,
hidden among carelessly tossed up hair,
only acknowledged when necessary,
is the soul
my journey
The excitement of a new journey rushes through our veins as we discuss the destination in which we were all headed. We are all so young and naïve, yet we remain brimming with curiosity, fervor, and hope. Then comes that day, that day we have heard so much about, that day that would never come for us, that day that is now: the journey that starts the rest of our life. Not one of us admits to the fear that we share for the unknown territory that will be ours, so far from family and most friends.
The boat's deep, beckoning call signals the last moments of goodbye. Standing on the pier absorbing the last images of what is now my
anywhere but here
what is this tangible world
made of everything that is not real
all that is around us we may touch and feel
but it doesn't last it can't be real
my soul is imprisoned here among such trivial matter
that takes up space, and is nothing that matters
this all around me tears at my heart viciously
strangles my soul, and carves at my mind
driving me gradually towards an insanity
that I want to follow, but am too afraid to find
I wish I could tear at my earthly bounds
if nothing is real, why cant it be found
that if I were to carve off my captivity
perhaps only then will I truly be free
tear out these offensive eye
again
You rush into the room, but stop as you enter – almost as if you didn't expect her to be there. She was sitting there, waiting. You know exactly what she's going to say – the look on her face tells it all. What's the point when all of it has already been said? Moving to where your back is against the wall, to where you are facing her, you allow yourself to slide down and sit there with your arms wrapped around your legs. This shouldn't have to happen, again. She drew in breath as if to begin to speak. There was a pause. You look up to her face and feel broken by her honest, hurt-filled expression.
"I'm sorry," she finally mana
darkness
I opened my eyes. Shut them and opened them again. My stomach fell – I turned to watch the road out the window. The yellow streetlights dimly flooded the six-lane expanse between the wall on which they stood and the entrance ramp on which we accelerated. I felt the engine of my car push as Chris floored it.
Nothing. No one. The orange hew of my clock read 3:39 and not one car could be found as far as the highway dared to expand. It seemed so chillingly out of place. The road was as empty as I felt – I was numb. Chris headed for the tollbooth, making sure to pick an exact change lane, away from the possibility of interacti
one rose
How can one small flower, made from the earth,
stand for so much, to many meanings give birth?
From the ground it grows, so careful and slow,
just the same as my affection for you does grow.
For one month we have nurtured it with a tender care,
Rewarded ten-fold by a beauty never-so fair –
and growing more beautiful every day,
blossoming daily in a whole new way.
Each petal is rich with a deep and true color,
as that of the feeling we have for each other.
Delicate but strong, bold yet subdued,
with every glance, passion's renewed.
I've never felt more alive as when I admire its awe –
perfect, innocent, beautiful, and w
calling
It was an odd looking bush, something about it seemed unnatural or dead. Stretching from the ground as if it was trying to escape the vary foundation of its being, the dirt where it took root; clawing at the sky, dwarfed and raw, the tree appeared to be pulling it self away from the earth. I hesitated to look at it, yet I still craved to touch it. It was, almost, quite possibly, hypnotic. I became absorbed in the energy that churned and folded through the air. The barren and crookedly forked branches so tangled and interwoven seemed to pierce the air in which it breathed. My heart's rhythm lowered to meet the pace of the emanati
my journey
The excitement of a new journey rushes through our veins as we discuss the destination in which we were all headed. We are all so young and naïve, yet we remain brimming with curiosity, fervor, and hope. Then comes that day, that day we have heard so much about, that day that would never come for us, that day that is now: the journey that starts the rest of our life. Not one of us admits to the fear that we share for the unknown territory that will be ours, so far from family and most friends.
The boat's deep, beckoning call signals the last moments of goodbye. Standing on the pier absorbing the last images of what is now my
Standing out in my place. by driftingawake, literature
Literature
Standing out in my place.
Standing out in my place.
My mind's eye filters the world around me
to better define myself.
A feral cat peruses the fringes of society
in the background, pawing for hope,
ragged with disregard and disgust
reflects my disposition;
for they look upon him as they do the shadow
of what once was my right leg.
A painted brick, screaming pink among earthen red
inspires curiosity, grabs attention.
The mask I wear called my personality
Bright and lively despite my history
and my loss
A woman's proud leather hairclip
so dark and intricately made,
hidden among carelessly tossed up hair,
only acknowledged when necessary,
is the soul
Being pathetic isn't something you achieve overnight - it takes a great amount of soul searching and selfanalysis. The other day I was checking my e-mail, and I got the usual 15 messages from automated e-mailing computers that send you advertisements or information on sites you accidentally went to one time. I checked them all and went to hit the delete button, but I noticed that there was a Spam blocker option that would keep me from getting more crap from these addresses. So I thought it would save me some time and went ahead and clicked it. Two days ago when I checked it I had no mail. Today I have no mail. Note that this lack of mail incl
golden blue morning
cries tears of renewing dew
dawn's hollow whisper
a whitewashing sun
I yell out into the void
of a cloudless sky
walls of night close in
a shadowing clearity
of introspection
Current Residence: Lubbock *hits head on desk* Favourite genre of music: indie/new-folk/chill and techno, and enya/enigma/etc for inspiration Favourite style of art: ANIME anything Operating System: Win XP pro Favourite cartoon character: the crew of samaurai champloo, samurai jack Personal Quote: "the tough times reveal character more than build it" -my father
Favourite Movies
too many - lotr, dead poets, waking life, gattaca
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
currently: the notwist - neon golden
Favourite Games
world of warcraft, oblivion, battlefront, cs, wc3, diablo,
well after a what, a four month dry period i do believe that my writer's block/creativity slump may be waning. this may primarily may be due to my poetry class i'm taking this semester.
anywho, i should be posting a lot more often. i have a few ideas that i'd like to get in the works, as far as my writing goes.
the poem that i just submitted is one that's due this monday the 20th, and it needs a lot of work. so any criticism is really appreciated.
i love u all!
"Death Blooms"
Cold seems crippling lame meander through corridors aroma's thick
with age mark off the day reflections of my life are fading
Pull me out of body don't want it don't want in,
Feeble frail and rotting descending I'm lost in,
A structure that's collapsing don't want it cast into,
Maker take the body don't want it wants me
Past has found its place salvation is no more will god accept my
peace bleached will pardon me reflections of my life are fading
Pull me out of body don't want it don't want in,
Feeble frail and rotting descending I'm lost in,
A structure that's collapsing don't want it cast into,
Maker take the body
some color of golden blue
i lie there
and think
of splintered angel wings;
a beautiful moment lost
dying alone at last
and in a blink all is gone
and i see your face
and i lie to myself again
Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)
RULES:
1- You can kiss the person who kissed you!
2- You can't kiss the person more than 3 times
3- You -MUST- kiss 6 other people
4- You should kiss them in public! Paste it on their user page! c'mon..don't be scared of public displays of affection
5- Random kisses are perfectly okay! (and sweet)
6- You should most definitly get started kissing right away!
hey gorgeous! i just wanted to say thanks times a billion for your uber-nice comment and favorite on unknowns and dial tones audio…, it completely made my day. nay, more like week. you rock my face off!