I throw myself to the wolves:
a wave of two-faced sentiment
pushes against brittle ribs,
eroded and eaten away by the beast
that curls like a cat between them.
Like a mantra, I dribble meaningless words
from lips that would rather scream out
incantations and banishment.
And I know
that it’s all in my head,
that even though I can feel
teeth pulling me apart
until I am begging some denied god for reprieve...
The wolves at my throat are me:
sick,
uneasy,
reluctant.
The Plight of Atlas by angelsarefascists, literature
Literature
The Plight of Atlas
All at once, the world is on my shoulders,
and I, Atlas, am unprepared for such weight.
It’s as if the hands of fate lie fixed around my throat,
measuring my worth like thread.
And that’s how this tightrope feels:
day to day I tread ever so carefully on lifelines,
anxious that I might soil something
that I never truly had.
I wish I were comfortable in my own skin –
after all, it fits; shouldn’t it feel so?
Yet, in the way I walk, act, speak, write, love, think, feel…
I am apprehension.
Every simple action, no matter how menial,
leaves me feeling naked and exposed.
Like Prometheus,
I am merely wait
Day 20 - Galaxy skin. by angelsarefascists, literature
Literature
Day 20 - Galaxy skin.
It was as if she wore a galaxy,
stretched like armor over Milky Way skin.
In her eyes, Phobos and Deimos shined bright,
glittering like snowflakes against the ice –
they always betrayed her scorpion’s tongue.
Some days, she wished her heart were a black hole
instead of the white dwarf it truly was,
but wish as she might, it was all in vain:
she had already lost friends to Hades
and it would take light-years to reach the past.
Day 17 - Kiss the stars on her arms. by angelsarefascists, literature
Literature
Day 17 - Kiss the stars on her arms.
He connected the freckles on her arms,
drawing an imaginary line over goose bumps
and the scars of old love.
She inhaled so deeply that the humid air
swirled like a tornado in her lungs;
she didn’t need her ruby slippers anymore.
I throw myself to the wolves:
a wave of two-faced sentiment
pushes against brittle ribs,
eroded and eaten away by the beast
that curls like a cat between them.
Like a mantra, I dribble meaningless words
from lips that would rather scream out
incantations and banishment.
And I know
that it’s all in my head,
that even though I can feel
teeth pulling me apart
until I am begging some denied god for reprieve...
The wolves at my throat are me:
sick,
uneasy,
reluctant.
The Plight of Atlas by angelsarefascists, literature
Literature
The Plight of Atlas
All at once, the world is on my shoulders,
and I, Atlas, am unprepared for such weight.
It’s as if the hands of fate lie fixed around my throat,
measuring my worth like thread.
And that’s how this tightrope feels:
day to day I tread ever so carefully on lifelines,
anxious that I might soil something
that I never truly had.
I wish I were comfortable in my own skin –
after all, it fits; shouldn’t it feel so?
Yet, in the way I walk, act, speak, write, love, think, feel…
I am apprehension.
Every simple action, no matter how menial,
leaves me feeling naked and exposed.
Like Prometheus,
I am merely wait
Day 20 - Galaxy skin. by angelsarefascists, literature
Literature
Day 20 - Galaxy skin.
It was as if she wore a galaxy,
stretched like armor over Milky Way skin.
In her eyes, Phobos and Deimos shined bright,
glittering like snowflakes against the ice –
they always betrayed her scorpion’s tongue.
Some days, she wished her heart were a black hole
instead of the white dwarf it truly was,
but wish as she might, it was all in vain:
she had already lost friends to Hades
and it would take light-years to reach the past.
Day 17 - Kiss the stars on her arms. by angelsarefascists, literature
Literature
Day 17 - Kiss the stars on her arms.
He connected the freckles on her arms,
drawing an imaginary line over goose bumps
and the scars of old love.
She inhaled so deeply that the humid air
swirled like a tornado in her lungs;
she didn’t need her ruby slippers anymore.
Starting to realize now, Ive got this sickening fascination
with leaving cathartic messages,
carving them into my walls with pain and paint,
a combination so tepid that the plasters peeling like colorless waterfalls.
Theres ink in my mouth, and I cant get it out
(not that Id want to anyway,
now that Ive grown accustomed to the comfortable taste
of poetry on my tongue);
and its of use, by its own rite, of course,
for when the acrylics have dried or simply run out
I can spit a darker art onto the canvas -
the relief of my every waking nightmare pinned and dissected on the table,
like an anim
Don't mind this; just keeping track of some things.
Current trades/requests:
:bulletblue: Request for Raydawggie (https://www.deviantart.com/raydawggie), OC Lara Kinkaid http://fav.me/d3eo7p3
:bulletblue: Request for KurodaTaishi3 (https://www.deviantart.com/kurodataishi3), FC Shiori http://fav.me/d3fk7xw
If anyone still watches me, check out this: http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fpages%2FPlacebo-Balloons-Photography%2F201704369859952&h=60253
You can also head over to VampiricBunny (https://www.deviantart.com/vampiricbunny) for a taste of the awesome.
I had this passing thought the other day... In the groups where we do OC art trades, I always breathe a sigh of relief when I find out that my partner has talent (even though it makes me feel like an ass). I wonder, do people feel relieved or do they groan when they find out I'm their partner? I thought maybe I'd try to offer cheap point commissions here, but I'm not sure how that would go. I've never been all that confident in my drawing. Maybe I'll post something in the forums later...
Here are the clubs/groups I enjoy:
BeautifulFotography (https://www.deviantart.com/beautifulfotography) commissions-and-more (https://www.deviantart.com/commissions-and-more) Critique-It (https://www.deviantart.com/critique-it) custom-plush (https://www.deviantart.com/custom-plush) Cute-Craft (https://www.deviantart.com/cute-craft) :devDeviantArtSecr