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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
September 21, 2013
Black Widow II by ~AeroModo is a highly experimental piece that highlights a dysfunctional, abusive relationship in a powerful way, the suggester describes.
Featured by Nichrysalis
Suggested by betwixtthepages
Literature Text
away
i'm goingto break away
drain
i'm
in
the
drain
of
drains
and
slowly
being
spun
downwards
and
downwards
and
downwards
and
down
wards.
thirteen
Mom's rose garden grew beneath the steps, and I did too. They weren't aligned and it bothered me. I always tried to fight it but she would come down and lay her hand on my bare skin and whisper, "They aren't growing."
And I would be red like the roses and blue like the violets.
She grew beneath the steps too.
past
notlookingforthepastorthe f u t u r e e e e e e
set
set down the lighter
put it down.
don't make it brighter.
I set the roses on fire.
ingenuity
she never knew I them on fire.
I set them on fire.
her hands on my bare skin and whisper,
they aren't growing
roses were red
violets were crumbling
soon they were dead
petals
were
tumbling.
fungus fungus
fungus fungus
she grew
too
steps
the
beneath
hide
H
I monster monster monster monster monster
hide me D monster monster monster monster monster
Emother
vulnerable
M
E
me
leave
me
stone
can always
be cut
into
p
i e
c
e
s
i'm going
drain
i'm
in
the
drain
of
drains
and
slowly
being
spun
downwards
and
downwards
and
downwards
and
down
wards.
thirteen
Mom's rose garden grew beneath the steps, and I did too. They weren't aligned and it bothered me. I always tried to fight it but she would come down and lay her hand on my bare skin and whisper, "They aren't growing."
And I would be red like the roses and blue like the violets.
She grew beneath the steps too.
past
notlookingforthepastorthe f u t u r e e e e e e
set
set down the lighter
put it down.
don't make it brighter.
I set the roses on fire.
ingenuity
she never knew I them on fire.
I set them on fire.
her hands on my bare skin and whisper,
they aren't growing
roses were red
violets were crumbling
soon they were dead
petals
were
tumbling.
fungus fungus
fungus fungus
she grew
too
steps
the
beneath
hide
H
I monster monster monster monster monster
hide me D monster monster monster monster monster
E
vulnerable
M
E
me
leave
me
stone
can always
be cut
into
p
i e
c
e
s
Literature
wednesday's child
it is the third of october
and i am building a castle for us
out of feathers, bird bones,
ocean waves and library book pages.
anything to keep our feet from
touching the ground.
you are sin, he whispers
and his fingers trail cold fire
down my side, scorching flesh
and freezing bone;
brittle pieces of me shatter
as they hit the stained linoleum floor.
don't wake me from this nightmare.
i whisper a nursery rhyme
as i walk down our
autumn path.
kamikaze leaves fall, trailing
fire as they throw themselves from
the branches, down, down,
to cold pavement below.
your words echo in my mind
a constant reminder
that i am sin
but you,
you were
ne
Literature
Visitor
There is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,
wrist-deep in fresh soil. Her hands are birds
in flight.
It's late, but no one comes to take her home.
The pale moon offers a silver smile -
the clouds disapprove.
Too tired to dream, she buries her legs in sky.
Tonight she is invincible, untouchable,
this frail girl beneath the stars
this death in light.
-
There is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,
falling to her white knees. Her stare is a pane
of glass.
The eyes of the living are often murky but
the eyes of the gone
are windows.
Literature
I Call Him Compulsion
Three. Four. Five. I like five; it feels complete. Okay, one more time. Six
Seven. Done.
"How long does it take to get a glass of water?" my husband calls from the living room.
"Sorry, I'm coming." I resist the urge to rinse the glass a few more times. Cleanliness is not a factorit's the numbers. The completion. The habit. I take a sip of my water and force myself to stop asking if I should just run the water one more time.
I join Sam in the living room and sit in my usual spot: the center recliner. He always lies on the couch to watch TV. It works.
He hits the play button, and we watch ten minutes of reality before the demon
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Featured in Groups
A story of a boy and his monstrous mother, his shattered past, and the horrors he discovered in his very home.
[EDIT]
Holy bananas, a Daily Deviation? Me? I can't believe it, thank you! Thank you for your support, favorites, and comments!
Part II of XI.
[EDIT]
Holy bananas, a Daily Deviation? Me? I can't believe it, thank you! Thank you for your support, favorites, and comments!
Part II of XI.
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Comments60
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This poem leaves me numb. Not much more I can say about it. Powerful stuff.