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Literature
Past Life Street
Past Life Street
When I walk down this lane
You tell me to straighten my back
My fingers clench over the hilt of a weapon
I no longer have the strength to carry
My mind is already running down to the edge of the street
But my heart cannot keep up with these pounds of flesh I bear
When I walk down this lane
You tell me to quiet my breath
But it no longer comes easy
Every shadow could hold a substance
That if thrown my way I could avoid
Every whisper could be an ally
Telling me to get the hell out of dodge
When I walk down this lane
You tell me I don't have to stay here long
But here I am in the company of a family portrait
A still shot silhouette on a brick wall
Of men that found their way back to me
Holding pieces of me like a quiver of arrows
Ready to aim at the heavens and punch a hole in the sky
Should I lose my way
When I walk down this lane
You remind me I am not alone
That my nature comes from a time
Where worry was birthed a four-letter word
Where danger has taken a familiar gri
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Mature content
Nightly Ritual :iconmasterpieceimaginary:MasterpieceImaginary 1 0
Literature
Wash Your Face, Darling
In fourth grade, I charted the horoscopes of every one of my classmates using a tattered old book my mom let me bring to school,
In middle school, when I asked the teacher "May I please go to the bathroom?" It was only to check the stalls on every floor, making sure I didn't just hear the sobs echoing through the air vents in my head,
Often times, I'd have to poke my head in to tell the teacher I'd be escorting a red-nosed, puddle-eyed kid to the nurse or counselor I caught on my way back,
With a nod of their head they would tell me "You'll catch up",
I figured they were talking about school assignments,
They weren't.
In high school, in between exams and merging lunches, and sometimes after a bathroom break, I'd see them again,
The teary-eyed, the broken-hearted, the stressed-out exam-taker, the expectant mother suffering from panic attacks, the child without their parents in a dark, scary, grown-up world that the brick walls couldn't hide us from,
Cowering in corners, hiding behind br
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Literature
I Grow Tired
"I could never see you doing that!"
"You may think you're capable of that, but you would never really do it"
"That's cute, but you'd never do that"
"You're not capable of that."
You don't think I'm capable of handling certain things,
But I handle you just fine,
I handle the way you wall me up into convenient little boxes,
All the while pleading for me not to judge you,
Not to assume I know anything about you,
When you assume I am not capable of the weights I already hold,
Am I not capable?
Am I not able?
I handle you just fine,
I am a king with a conjured maze,
Custom-tailored to your expectations,
And I grow tired of them,
I have played nice,
I have played by your rules,
How are mine hard to swallow,
When yours require such monitoring of myself?
I gave you what you wanted,
I will give you what you need,
But I grow tired of your expectations,
And you have no idea what I am capable of.
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Literature
My Knowing Love
Stretch your spine tight as a string,
Keep your head held high,
Fold your hands and curl your nails,
Paint them a smile as they walk by,
Close your eyes and count to ten,
Should the fire within you stir,
Speak only when you're spoken to,
But only listen as you confer,
Be merry, laugh, dance and sing!
But should you need to frown,
Remember sadness is a fatal illness,
Do not call for help if you drown,
I will only nod my head to you,
I will only give you the weather,
I will only smile when you tell me things,
Keeping conversation light as a feather,
Stringing up love like fragile lights,
See how I care for you so?
But only look, no dear- Don't touch!
This is not how my love truly grows,
Pay no mind to any screams you hear,
Do not worry over the whines or sobs,
It's nothing, darling- Just the wind on the trees!
Fret not as my heart aches and throbs,
Catch not how I grind my teeth,
Or how my pale hands tremble and shake,
My spine is still straight, my smile smooth,
See how I never make a m
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Mature content
Want not, Waist Not :iconmasterpieceimaginary:MasterpieceImaginary 1 0
Literature
My Name
The candles were burning down
My hands were clasped together
Casting wishes like fallen leaves
Then you said my name
There, a smooth place in the wood where my jaw had rested
Against so many tired nights
Praying in gulps of holy water
Then you said my name
You came to me with locked doors
With unwanted company
I was a hesitant teacher,
Then you said my name
Donning my nails again
Glistening my lips again
Praying the past didn't happen again
Then you said my name
I kept my silence
I kept my skirts
I kept my distance
Then you said my name
Sitting here with a smile on my face
The call was answered,
I have my place
All because you said my name.
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Literature
Wherein the Heroes Know There Are Other Books
I stood atop a mountain
A clifftop that kissed the air
I had seen this place a dozen times before
Except one thing was missing
You weren't there
My hands were open for you to hold
The sun smiled at those who were present
My shadow and I
The breeze wrapped its' arms around me
All around was still
I had felt this all before
Except one thing was missing
I did not see the dance of the clouds
I was too busy looking down
The canopy of trees below
They told me you still ran among them
Everyone had said I'd like it up here
Even as I realized I didn't stand alone
The winds whistled a welcome
The sun shone again
And Logic took me into his arms
As he found his way to the clifftop
He smiled at the sun,
He whispered hello into my hair
But even he noticed
That you weren't there
We did not notice the sun warming our skins,
We were too busy looking down below
Where we knew your light glimmered still
They said we would love it up here
Here where we were safe and together
Even as we knew that yes, we we
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Literature
I Am Afraid To Love You
I bite my lip
I shuffle my feet
When I smile it's tight and polite
But my hands lay open
For you to hold
I always leave space for you on the sidewalk
I tuck my hair behind my ear
I want to be beautiful for you
I'll spend all day wondering what will make you smile
Even though you already do
I want to write poems for you
Until my fingernails crack
I select only the best words for you
Only my most complete thoughts,
When I read that we are beasts
Who only love the idea of love
I am afraid to love you
Because I thrive on your words
On your shadow in the corner of my eye
In the pressure of your body in my bed
In my hand
In my mind
The idea that you are laughing
The idea that you are looking at me
The idea that your hands curl slightly when you sleep
I am afraid to love you
Because I do not want to love an idea
When I know you deserve to be seen
And you love a broken-eyed girl
I am afraid to love you
When I know I see so much more
Than your pale face that tips in concern to me when I cry
Tha
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Literature
The End of The Sea
I've since stopped looking at waves,
I've stopped feeling sea-sick over your words,
I know all too well the taste of the sea,
Come back to me, come back to me,
I cast lines every night,
I throw stones every day,
All I know now is what the clouds forsee,
You've left me, you've left me,
I've cursed your name to the sun and moon,
I've destroyed the ship we made,
I've cried your name in the nursery,
Come back to me, come back to me,
One evening during bitter prayer,
As the docks did moan and creak,
I finally coughed up the key,
You've left me, you've left me,
I covered it in salt water,
I covered it with sighs,
It burst into flames at my heresy,
Come back to me, come back to me,
I was caught alight and burned to ash,
The breeze blew me away,
The ocean cradled my body,
You've left me, you've left me,
When I opened my eyes I was at your feet,
Your toes were hanging above the water,
I wondered why there was an ocean near the city,
Come back to me, come back to me,
Your eyes were hollow,
Your
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Literature
Life
Life imitates art
It scribbles on a page
And hopes to God it remembers how to draw hands right,
Art imitates life
It shoves everything you're trying to forget
Into your head like baby teeth
As if you need the reminder that you felt this once before
Back when you didn't know its' name
You were better off ignoring it because of that
But you had to name it
Life has a name
Its' had many
I've only known three
And they are "Friend" "Family" and "Finicky Thorn In My Foot"
Despite the fact that the thorn didn't mean to,
Life imitates art
Everything is a canvas that life leaves unfinished
Because it goes onto bigger and better things
It prefers to watch things walk across the screen
Rather than try to create its' own
Because life doesn't have baby teeth
It has poison darts
Like an arrow attached to the wing of an albatross
Life hasn't found away around those yet
So it scribbles
It makes art
It leaves things unfinished
Life forgets about the scribbles
Until one day we become nothing more than
Sk
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Literature
Snowflake Obsidian
Cracked in my hands,
This stone I held,
It echoed into the air,
The words that were the death of me,
"Let me go" It whimpered
"Let me go"
Crumbling the pieces to the ground below,
I opened my palm and let it fall,
Black and white,
Speckled and warm with the lines on my palms,
That traced the very paths I wandered around now,
Intersecting chicken-scratch,
That told no noble tale or fable,
Nothing could be learned from the steps I took,
Except that despite the odds I took them,
But dust from this stone did remain on my hands,
Like monochrome mold, it stayed with me,
As if to say,
"Don't let me go"
A whisper soft, did I imagine it?
Do you ask this of me?
Do you ask this of me at all?
Clapping my hands together,
I did try to brush it off,
I had better things to do than listen to a rock,
Replaying my memory in my head still as fresh as a wound,
But still the dust remained,
I tried to make my way around the land I was given,
Using the lines of my palm as a map,
I stepped as deep as I could i
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Mature content
Give Me A Beat (Read:Break) :iconmasterpieceimaginary:MasterpieceImaginary 2 7
Literature
(Roses) Among Other Things You Changed For Me
(Roses) Among Other Things You Changed For Me
A rose by any other name,
Still became something I never approached,
I never saw the point beyond the thorns,
Even though I was told it was beautiful,
Using the other four senses as well,
But I could never be bothered,
The world is a stage,
A boring metaphor at best,
One that made me see the world as superficial,
As if we were all born to simply play games and lie,
So I never bothered to read these common words,
These works of art did bore me,
They did not drill spirals into my mind,
In which my thoughts could leak, drain, and pool,
So I never bothered,
Until you came along, your voice laced with the rhythm of them,
They were your cup of tea,
Thus your breath was stained with them,
I caught the scent, unexperienced before,
Because it slunk from your lips, I was hooked,
Digging ever so silently in my mind,
My thoughts did pool, turning dark,
Like an ink-tip dropped in water,
Fluid and intimate, changing the color if not the composition,
A ro
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Literature
Aging
Aging
When I age,
Take the color from my eyes,
So that I may reflect the moon better,
So my irises do change and leave you waiting,
For the moment I will rise again,
When I age,
Let my hair lose it's sheen,
To better catch the dust
Of well spent magic in its' weave,
And, tossing braid aside, walk with a swinging step,
When I age,
Let my bones creak and sing,
So that the stories of my heart are echoed,
And finally have a duet to drown out it's adolescent whining,
To properly tell the tales I've weighed since,
When I age,
Let my face crack and soften,
Let me smile more now that my masks are too heavy to bear,
And laughing, cackling, crowing,
Do I become lighter,
When I age,
Let me fade kindly,
A weathering, withering slip under the firelight of life,
That embraces every heatwave, every brown spot,
Where I danced too closely and got burned,
Let me wear these spots like buttons on my naked dress,
When I age,
Let me remember this,
Growing beautiful for my bones and body no longer dictate me
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Literature
Fences
Fences
It's true,
We have holes in each other,
It's obvious,
We could patch them up,
But the paint may not ever match quite right,
I'll lend you my brush,
And show you the new color,
Let you decide what direction the strokes should go,
If you can't,
I'll just make another fence,
Another thing you can puncture holes into,
And I'll paint over them,
The colors will never match,
And I'll still remember you made them,
But you'll be making stars out of me,
Constellations someday we can watch together,
Make stories out of,
So go ahead,
Hit the fence,
Break the wall,
Give this tree more rings to count,
After all,
It's not about what you do to my borders,
But what you see beyond them,
And if you're hitting angry holes in fences,
Maybe you see something worthwhile behind it.
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Activity


So much good news!
I know my last update was kind of dreary, but my fears have been put to rest. We're staying put! We no longer need to move, and we in fact can stay for as long as we'd like! A weight has lifted off of all of our shoulders, and I cannot tell you how happy I am that things have picked up.
My dad is working again, and although getting used to a schedule is a beast all of it's own, but I am adjusting with fervor and excitement. I spend most of my day doing housework and taking care of Lucy, and I feel happy to be useful. I get up at earlier hours, I don't sleep the day away, and I don't feel useless.
I have much more to do, and many steps to take, but as rough-and-tumble as this has been, it's a tumble in the right direction. Day to day, I wrestle with the ups-and-downs, the blues, cabin fever, and the occasional bout of over-thinking. But I don't doubt my strength anymore. I know I can make it through curves and hard-balls. It's more than I knew three years ago, it's more than I knew even a month ago. 
Things are looking up, and I know it can only get better. 
  • Listening to: Pure Imagination
  • Watching: Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory
  • Playing: Dishonored

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MasterpieceImaginary
Keeper Of Tea-Dwelling Octopi
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Earth
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Large
Print preference: N/A
Favourite genre of music: N/A
Favourite photographer: Jerry Uelsmann
Favourite style of art: Surrealistic, thought-provoking, fantasy
Operating System: IBM computer
MP3 player of choice: Walkman
Shell of choice: Crab. . .?
Wallpaper of choice: It changes with every week or so
Skin of choice: My own.
Favourite cartoon character: Alfred
Personal Quote: There are times I think I know everything there is to know, and then I regain consciousness
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:iconcounting-vertebrae:
counting-vertebrae Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you for the favorite. :la:
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:iconmasterpieceimaginary:
MasterpieceImaginary Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2014  Student Writer
You're very welcome! The title caught my eye and I fell in love with your poem. 
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:iconnekochan1313113:
Nekochan1313113 Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2013
THANKS FOR THE FAVORITE! :D
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:iconmasterpieceimaginary:
MasterpieceImaginary Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2013  Student Writer
Pfft YOU'RE WELCOME!
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:iconnekochan1313113:
Nekochan1313113 Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2013
:D Heart 
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:iconnekochan1313113:
Nekochan1313113 Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2013
Thanks again for the fave :D on Courage!
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:iconmasterpieceimaginary:
MasterpieceImaginary Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2013  Student Writer
XD You don't have to thank me for every favorite, you know! 
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:iconnekochan1313113:
Nekochan1313113 Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2013
…It's only proper plus then you get a lovely msg from me
Heart 
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:iconmasterpieceimaginary:
MasterpieceImaginary Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2013  Student Writer
Very true! I do love getting messages from you.
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(1 Reply)
:iconnekochan1313113:
Nekochan1313113 Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2013
Thanks for the favorite! :D
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