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Too NiceI'm too nice.
Really, I am.
If you don't believe me, then let me tell you some stories.
I had a boyfriend for three years. When I needed his support, he knocked me over. I stayed his. When I cried, he made me cry harder. I stayed his. Finally, when he started sexually harassing me, I thought about leaving him. It took me two months to decide to do it, and another couple of weeks before I did.
You know what? I felt guilty.
A had a friend last year. She roughhoused with my other friends, and they didn't like it. I stood up for her. She made fun of them. I stood up for her. When I needed her support, she didn't give it to me. I still stayed by her side. Only when she started harassing me for cracking under stress did I tell her off.
You know what? I STILL feel guilty.
I feel guilty about both of them. I know, it's what I needed to do to continue my life in a healthy way. But I still feel pity and guilt for them. Why? I'm too nice.
Now, I'm in a similar situation. She's been my best friend
Oblivion Rests HereOblivion Rests Here
i have gathered my congregation,
and today you witness my church.
we are spirits, wandering ghosts,
souls holding hands
falling, spreading like rain
racing down windowpanes.
we are a mosaic of loose threads
falling from old scarves,
shrapnel that fell from fireworks,
leaves scattered across mud grain,
and ashes forgotten in wildfires.
but the forgotten souls sew love together,
wrapping whispers and skin
around each other like tornadoes.
and we rain down our message
like the King himself has touched down.
strands of hair, empty fingers, fluttering arms
all find themselves filled with warmth
in free rein, the sky embracing our veins
as we hold space
with c(h)ords of culminating ardor,
vocal cords strumming chants of freedom.
we sing louder than any choir
and hold each other tighter
than any thread count could.
tactile, textile, tensile
strength, we expose entities
with tractile virtue,
healing the exiled.
send Muhammad, Yahweh, Al
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
yahwehIn fifteen hours I will be strung, pelvis
to sternum, ready to be struck
stomach aching to sing -
There was once when I was whole,
full and stretched to breaking,
I have been a giant in my own skin &
I was not enough to be loved.
& now, finger to thumb, you
swallow my spine in your palms
play my bones,
play my bones,
play my bones //
I am rising to throb
& thud & thrum
of pulse and breath and music
of mantra spilt-spoken,
smeared sacred over wrists
written with sweat & sex,
Muscles tensed for every chord,
Herein is the hallelujah -
You alone, you alone, you,
Hollow my belly and carve me
until I am fluted, crying out
between your hands
I have been too much to love,
every wire & tendon pulled loose
, I have been too much
& now you are here
& you play my bones
until the giant in my skin
becomes a rhythm
until I finally feel
I am enough!
You move me,
spine swallowed and sequestered,
I become holy beneath you
I was too much to love:
The UniverseThen suddenly there was matter.
There was time, there was life.
From the unfathomable nothing sprung forth our universe.
Our earth was born,
she, an angry mass of volcanoes and storms.
And life, oh that miracle, rose from the non-space.
A single microorganism,
whose name we will never know,
began turning the Evolutionary Wheel.
Earth had many inhabitants.
But here and now, she houses us.
Homo sapiens, her most gifted child.
We have made her surface angry as the beginning.
Machines of war replace the storm,
death flourishes in the garden of life.
In a hundred-thousand years our plights will matter not.
If the Homo sapiens lives still, he will be alien.
His old achievements as pathetic as the discovery of fire.
Even he will eventually cease to exist.
Several million years will rob him of his humanity,
whether through death or the persistence of the Wheel.
Billions of years will pass then.
Andromeda will embrace the Milky Way,
their fervent dance sending shockwaves through their solar sys
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
Why do you judge?Why do you have the need to judge with your signs?
Do you even know why I am here?
Am I here just because I do not want the responsibility to be a mom?
Am I here because I am not in the right place in my life where I can take care of a child?
Or am I here because I was raped and he didn't use a condom?
Don't you know it is going to hurt me in the long run after I do this?
So how do you sit there with your sings and judge people?
CrossroadsI feel like I've been here before.
At this same crossroad, where the signs are missing.
Both roads are covered in thorn bushes and poison ivy,
But one is shorter,
And at the end of the shorter road there is someone waiting for me
To take my hand and hold me;
To heal my cuts and bruises from the thorns I walk through.
But do both roads hold the same destination?
Or will one road bring me into a circle,
And back to where I am now
Like it did last time?
I still have the scars from then,
They taught me not to hesitate.
But still I do hesitate.
Is this really déjà vu?
He certainly thinks so.
Has it really come to the point
Where She does more bad than good,
And is no longer worth holding onto?
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More