[x]

her.she is one hundred percent alone, minus him.

meet her.

she has milk white skin, and jagged bones. her eyes are pale and soft, and could make you surrender under her breath (and they will.)

every night she goes to sleep with a man who touches her, and she feels sick. and she wishes he'd just leave the hair in her face.

(because it's easier to hide tears that way.)

she dreams at night.

her milky skin is spilling over unfamiliar fingers. the freckles on her back match the ones in his eyes, and she feels safe. she offers him her heart, and he closes it into a box.

(she wakes up feeling nine

watching you spin.you're a disco dancing, drama queen with dirty hair and the permanent smell of stale cigarettes. but god, are you beautiful, twisting and dancing under circular lights,

and vomiting when you're done.(acid does some crazy shit)

your hair was once blonde and beautiful like your eyes, but now it's laying in clumps almost everywhere, because you fucking pull out a strand whenever i'm around, i don't know why i do that to you.

but i never really ever offer to leave, either.

there's that one song that i always hear you listening to, it's the same old shit about love and loss and never being able to forget that special someone, i use to ge

lightening bolt eyes.he has lightening bolt eyes and one fucking killer smile.

   let me introduce you to whom i call "fire-fly."

he has ice white skin and something about the way his hair falls that makes me wish mine would conform to such a beauty.

   looking at you for so long makes me feel. Really feel.

he calls them fire-flies but i say lightening bugs.
fire burns hot against his skin, and i can feel the heat in his heart
but lightening bolt eyes can destroy you.

   but god, it's so beautiful first, but only at first.

he calls me his "freckled girl" and i call him my heart
and he says that i shine undern

still.one.
-

her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.

(and i don't blame her)

two.

-

she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.

12 : fuck"let's forget for a moment that love doesn't exist and rainbows don't last forever," he whispered, running his hand along the curve of her waist. she choked down a,"but i can't," and pulled him close to her. it's hard for her to remember that his heart doesn't beat for love when he kisses her collarbone and the smell of rainwater makes her dizzy.

"i want you, ohgodiwantyou." and she couldn't help but hope that maybe he wanted her for more than one reason.

x

he called it
"fucking" and she whispered,

ardor.all I can feel is this pulsing, the infinite beating
inside my brain, under my palms, racing through my veins.
the music mixes with your heart sounds and all I care about is that
beat
beat
beat.

it’s like you’re stealing the oxygen from my throat, like we’re
pressed tight enough that there’s not enough air for the two of us,
and I’m lost in the sound of your breathing.
(it’s too cliché to say you take my breath away.)

you burn into me and set my heart on fire, smoldering through layers of
flesh, capillaries and ventricles until you get to the very core, filling it with
fresh ashes and the spark t

superstitious sofas.
you come around on saturday with boxes marked this way up.
i wonder if you'll sneak my happiness in there, with the dining plates.

something's different about your eyes,
but it'd be demented of me to ask if you got contacts.
so i sit awkwardly on the hard wooden floor
and wonder how you fit the whole tundra into your gaze.

"did you find someone to see Madness with you?" i venture.
i am without a carabiner, i'm bare.
your hands move hastily and the bathroom objects clang louder.

"no!" a small mirror slips like ice from your hand,
and shatters on the floorboards, the fragments like silver snow.
"you'll get seven years bad luck for

william.dreams make him vomit.

meet william.

he has spider-leg fingers and eyes so cold they could stop your heart.
(and they will.)

every night william goes to sleep knowing that someone else is waking up with his only friend, and he wishes he could brush the honey-stained hair from her cheek.

(not the man, who can't even spell love without cheating.)

william dreams at night.

his spider fingers are creeping up the jagged edge of her spine. her skin is the color of milk, and lightly freckled. william keeps her safe, and has made a

ianeverything starts out black

             but ian sees her in red.

ian is the kind of boy to breathe in pillow cases, and lay in the fetal position waiting for sleep to come, and the outcome doesn't surprise.

                       (it never comes the way he wants it to).

ian is colorblind in his dreams. he wakes up feeling anxious and restless, because he

suicide is overrated.you traced my scars
some were raised, some caved in
and in my ear you whispered
'why do you do this to yourself?'
i thought it over for a long time.
'so no one else can.'

-----

you have a
tattoo of a swallow
soaring up your wrist
you always told me you got it because
you could never fly.

you didn't need wings
to fly away from me.

-----

you trail your fingers down my sides,
counting all of my ribs.
a curious look appear in your eyes,
and you murmered to me-

'you are not beautiful.'

i told you i knew that.

-----

love is not the only thing i'm starving myself of.

wanderlust.00. she was afraid if she held him for too long, she’d lose this feeling – the rise and collapse of weak lungs, butterflies numbing her brain and tricking her vowels into slurs, hearts flooding and spilling over into messy red and white pools of affection.

01. she’s all eyelashes, splintered bones and eager dreams, while he’s just newspaper print, rough lips and hopelessness. they met in the turbulent center of a hurricane, swept up in disaster and lost in the redorange flames of another blazing skyline.

02. forever was seven letters too many, three syllables too close to smothering him. words didn’t matter to her a

you're a lost causemake me the center of your universe if you please,
but I beg of you –
stop sharpening your knives with such animosity.

a clumsy statue of hope,
you brought the worse
in me and I thoroughly
loved you for it.

your hazel eyes played
hide and seek with my
flaming heart. you were
my scorching summer and
my heart felt at home.

like a vulture, you
preyed on my thoughts.
like an eagle, you
watched my every move.
like an owl, you
kept archives of me.
and I, like a black swan,
gave you a hopeful smile.

it seemed like an era ago,
I was parched (going
days without drinking
a glass of viscous reality),
I listened to y

what i notice about peoplepeople cannot sit still. they fidget, they worry about their weight, they lie on stiff bones, they twist nervous hairs. awkward situations call for awkward laughter, but it is never funny.

people form habits to feel there is consistency and a ledge to grip on this slipping world. wake-up-at-seven-oh-three-and-get-out-of-bed-by-seven-oh-five-and-put-on-size-seven-blue-slippers-right-next-to-bed-and-brush-teeth-and-shower-and-bring-coffee-to-work-and-drive-to-work-and-walk-in-at-eight-thirty.

people will happily call their favourite song (shoes/beliefs/friend/mother) stupid if someone says so first. people see differences as swimming against

fair grading.rain rain you went away
come back and flush me down the drain.
i sat in the middle of the road and my mind's in a drought
i've got the carcasses of words baking in harsh artificial light within me.

[i slur my words, but don't think it's because i've been drinking
i just don't know how to bring myself to say anything to you.]

-

we're walking down the street, puddles lit by street lights.
there are rainbows in the cement cracks, and your words are sparkling with magic.
'this is where dreams live,' you tell me.
'this is where dreams live.'

[if this is a dream, then i must be snow white, and not even your kiss can wake me up.]

-

twin

MultivolentOne year and two months ago he handed her a gun and two bullets and said “Whenever you’re ready, just let me know”.

She laughed at him, thinking he must be joking, and ignoring the cold weight of it in her hands she asked,
“What’s the second bullet for?”

He never answered her.

.

“Tell me, when you’re ready.” He said.
She followed the motion of his mouth and shaped his words against the back of her teeth, enjoying the taste. Then she let Logic cut out Tongue to keep Heart from saying something stupid, and sewed her lips shut so he wouldn’t see the blood dribble leak from

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melting point.
I'd like to get you off my chest
to heave one big cough, and you'd be gone
being alone is a lot like being sick

when i have you, i can't stand you.

I'd like to laugh at things you say
to feel something inside from you
laughing is a lot like lying

it's always at someones expense.

you always said you wished you could die young
to be living beautiful, and die beautiful
living is a lot like a puzzle

you cut people out, and they still don't fit.

I'd like to lay in the freezing snow and watch it engulf my body heat
to be completely cove

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messages.

by ~create-illusions, May 6, 2009, 8:40:27 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives

it's twenty degrees outside, and when he breathes into the air, the smoke spells sex.

   but not the loving kind, the kind where taking a shower just isn't enough to get the smell of him off of me.

he's all wrapped up into disney movie, magic shit. when i know that he is just some dirty subliminal message, and i'll get sucked in.(but i'll tell myself it's not my fault, because my sub-conscious should be more aware, and i'll pinch myself to make sure i'm sleeping.)

                  i know that's not right. (anything to keep me asleep)

if and when he holds my hand he squeezes 3 times, and that means "i love you." and i am aware that i should squeeze back 3 times because that is just courteous to do. but for some reason i squeeze once, and that just means, "okay."

    (there is this part of me that wishes my subconscious could catch onto bullshit, and i'd shove all the messages into a jar and make you eat the words you bury into my brain.)

it's the mistakes about you that are my favorite, your freckles and the gap between your two front teeth(you should have got that fixed). mostly it's the imperfect way i am reflected into your eyes, my face is all distorted, and my mouth is crooked, and bent.

   (because you see me the way i really am, and no subliminal message can ever screw you into thinking anything different.)

messages.by ~create-illusions

Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives

*RiparianVeins Jul 10, 2009 Hobbyist

this was deliciously different, haha. i think i've fallen in love with your words P=.

~create-illusions Jul 11, 2009

thank you

~beautiful-shadows May 26, 2009

I like how you respond to every comment!!! I just read your poem about William. I love your style babe. Your magnifecent. You should most definately write more, but your photographs are beautiful, too.

~create-illusions May 26, 2009

oh, well thank you very much

~beautiful-shadows May 26, 2009

Your very welcome Darling.

~aramak May 14, 2009

Wow, I really like this.

~create-illusions May 15, 2009

I'm glad

!Casey-Wirrwarr May 9, 2009

You are an amazing writer.

~create-illusions May 11, 2009

thank you!

!Casey-Wirrwarr May 11, 2009

you're welcome. ^__^

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