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The VoicesSpeak to me
Call me names
Tell me to do things
I don't want to do
For some reason
I listen to them
And I hate it
I want to do what I want to do
How often do these voices speak to you?
And how does that make you feel?
You did not just ask me that question
I makes me feel like I'm not in control of my life
What do they say to you?
(Please be an easy case)
(Don't already be a criminal)
"Think about the consequences"
"Don't cut yourself"
"Don't eat that last cookie"
It doesn't seem like you have a problem
But I do
It's these damn voices
But they're good voices
You're lying to me
Why are you lying to me?
I'm not I just think you don't need and medicine for your "problem"
You are supposed to help me
But you don't have a problem
Now I have another problem then
queen of nothing.what I've learned:
I still remember singing in my room when I was six, and having my mother come down the hall and slam the door so hard that the windows shook.
Her nails hurt when she scraped the tears off my face. "It doesn't matter what you want," she'd always tell me.
Like, when that drunk driver swerved and hit her car I didn't want her to leave me, and it didn't matter.
Once on vacation I bought a pair of fuzzy leather heels for two hundred dollars, and when I wore them to dinner, I found out that
1. "Suede" is a fancy word for "fuzzy leather."
And 2. Good things don't last: That night my cousin told me that she thought 135 pounds was a little too big for five foot eight. So I tore my tights up to the thigh and threw those new suede heels in the garbage.
It felt good later, to know that they couldn't hate me more than I hate myself.
My six-word story from ninth grade reads, "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."
When I read that treating people like trash to gets them to nee
admittance is defeatthey called you beautiful
with porcelain eyes about to crack
and cigarette skin crumbling
away, a knotted spine and
you were never gracious.
you're slipping underneath, this
virulent smog masks a paper sky that
never allowed a dream and
you're afraid because it's soaking in
your pores again, unattainable and unoriginal;
the meaning of life never meant enough-
you were never hopeful.
there's a getaway map on the underside
of your pillow, and a lifetime of secrets
on the underside of your bones
you're a walking travesty:
your chest ticks, dull
your wrist beats, dying
time is keeping you but
you were never patient.
you lie large enough to make us believe you
don't entertain nightmares, but what if
no one could hear you scream?
remarkable, it seems
caged birds really know how
to sing out
(you were always beautiful)
The tenderness that's herWith every word written, with every word spoken
I try my best to express myself, without it being broken
For what I feel is deep in my heart, is love that I want to be showing
Every day it develops, every day I feel more loving
Is the tenderness of passion, which I’ve never felt before
A feeling that I got from a girl who I truly adore
Beautiful as a rose and gentle as a peaceful dove
My heart gets filled with warmth, a feeling I describe as love
She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve seen, that’s as simple as I can be
So very cute and filled with joy, she’s the only girl who I want to see
Her adorable smile that always cheers me up, she’s the only one I need
She’s everything I ever wanted, I thank god that he gave her to me
These AddictionsI used to think "addictions" were only for
drugs and alcohol.
Not cutting, puking your guts out, or starving yourself.
Not making yourself bleed to stop all the pain.
Carving one memory after another into your body,
all because of a few tears.
Binge. Binge. Binge. Forever binge.
Lose the weight, but still eat? How?
Prod your fingers to the back of your mouth,
there's your answer.
Seven, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four hours.
Nothing to eat nor drink.
One day turns to two. By the third, you're gone.
Eat less, starve more. Simple.
Fat. Ugly. Me.
Thanks Ana, you were the key.
But being addictions?
How can pain help pain?
When I was little I didn't know of this.
As years went by,
PiecesI am a piece of shattered glass.
I lay scattered,
Jagged edges sticking out.
Longing to be touched,
But screaming to be left alone.
Because no one can
Touch me without
I'm too sharp,
To be handled.
I can't be put back
Together like a puzzle,
I've been broken into
Too many pieces.
I don't want to hurt you.
Love LetterYou are re-creating the word love for me
I have never felt anything in my heart so deep
I'm so in love that I'll never be the same
I just want to be with you every single day
You have touched my heart in many different ways
And now from my heart you'll never go away
I feel so warm every time you're here,
I feel so cold whenever you disappear
Though it feels like you are already mine
Who knows if that's real, who know if it's a lie?
I just think about you every single time
Every time I write, and when I close my eyes
But I'm just waiting for that special day
For when you finally say, yes
The Death Within LifeRaging Seas
That is what life is.
No fairy godmothers
or knights in shining armor.
Only witches and cauldrons
recipes for disaster.
There are no three wishes
or steeds that fly.
No hero, no powers,
certainly no rewinds.
Life is but time
Spent by little moments
we call ours.
It is never enough,
they're left to remain.
Not even our mind, our knowledge
can prolong our hours.
To live them as they come
seconds remembered, never forgotten.
To let them pass
by our envy and our pride.
No wonder we are fools
both then and now.
Not one of us
Making us relish,
bathe in the honor
There was never a vow
of an easy way out.
Forever there will be work
never will it be clean.
Evil, never in absence
but nor will light and hope.
Perhaps all we can do
is to fight, to fall.
To live and die
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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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