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The High LifeBeing high is an experience that cannot be explained.
You have to take that hit to feel it yourself.
That overwhelming tingling sensation in every cell of your body,
It's like all of you is vibrating lightly.
That loss of control in your mind,
You think of something to say,
And end up saying something else and thinking
"Why can't I form a sentence?"
But on the outside your just giggling.
I would never promote the use of marijuana,
In fact, I hate the shit.
I hate not knowing what my brain will do next,
I hate not being able to control my hands,
Or my words.
I hate feeling like I'm constantly underwater,
Or maybe in a trance,
Like when you just wake up from a deep sleep and you aren't concious yet.
It's kind of like that,
But for hours.
Then when you come off the high,
You wish you were right back on.
You feel tired,
Maybe even a little sick if you were that high.
When you're high,
You have no self control.
What's not to hate about myself.I am not skinny,
I am not tall,
I have acne,
I have a crooked smile.
I'm not always smiling,
And my hair can be a mess,
I'm not always liked,
I'm always stressed.
I have no real friends,
No one to be there for me,
I'm always ignored,
I always get asked to leave.
I'm not cared about,
By anyone else except my family,
Society sees me as a burden,
What's so wrong with me?
People say I'm fat,
I'm a bitch,
I'm a whore,
I'm too short,
I'm a whale,
I'm everything they hate.
So I guess if everyone hates me,
What's not to hate about myself?
I had to say hello.She was guarded, love never was an option. She was the woman alone at the cafe, her hair in a bun with glasses on.
No one bothered to say hello, until one day a young man walked by the cafe window and saw her sitting there, reading a novel in the sunlight. Somehow the light glowed off of her skin in such a way, that he had to say hello.
He turned right around and marched into that cafe and walked right up behind her. But he was frozen, she seemed so confident, so sure of herself sitting there with her mocha. He couldn't muster up the words to say to her, nothing seemed right.
He stood there for a good five minutes, she never noticed because she was so deeply engrossed with her novel.
Finally he felt that confidence she exuded hit him in a big wave.
"Fifteen seconds" he thought, "That's all I need to win her heart."
He sat across from her and looked at her gorgeous face. She was so plainly beautiful that it almost took his breath away. Her cheekbones held high upon her face, and her lip
All I have is silence. You always came back. After every fight, every stressful moment, every time. You always called me to say:
"Baby, I'm sorry. I don't like when we fight." Then we would talk about other things. You always would text me, or apologize. Or maybe forgave my apology when I gave one, which was often.
But this time feels different. It feels wrong.
Because after this fight I didn't get a call.
I didn't get a text.
I didn't get an apology, or forgiveness.
I got silence.
I feel numb. That expression people say "You never know what you have 'till it's gone" is so terribly true to me now.
I miss when you would make me smile, I miss hearing your voice, I miss our funny conversations.
I even miss our constant fighting, I always felt like no matter what we would fight for each other. Because we both cared about the other so m
I'd like to compliment that smile.He threw her away without a care,
Like the way you feel in the summer air,
Not a glance back,
He didn't care and that was a fact.
At first she had nowhere to go,
Her life dragging by so slow,
Then she found a lonely child,
Looking for a purpose or a smile.
She came on in,
Said "Hello my friend"
The child looked around,
But not a soul to be found.
He then saw a woman on the street,
She had confidence in her feet,
He brightened his frown,
And resembled a clown.
"Excuse me miss" He stuttered,
"But I wanted to compliment that smile" his heart fluttered,
The woman blushed,
"Thank you oh so much!"
They walked off together,
As she sat by with her eyes getting wetter,
"Why everyone else, but not me?" She groaned,
She felt she will always be alone.
Truly AloneLoneliness hurts.
I haven't felt truly alone for two whole years and then bam.
I walked alone through the halls, keeping my head down
Trying to hide my puffy eyes,
My red face.
I held my books close, and kept my hood up.
You never realize how alone you are,
Until your crying.
No one talks to you,
No one tries to hug you,
No one even looks at you.
Thats when you know that you have no true friends.
No one there to hold your hand and keep their shoulder open,
Just for your tears.
No one there to tell you its okay.
Thats the day I realized that I was all alone,
And after it was over,
I didn't trust any of my friends the same again.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
Today.Today I spent my lunch in a bathroom stall.
No one asked where I was.
No one asked if I was okay.
Today, I cried silently.
No one gave me a hug.
No one gave me a tissue.
Today I walked all alone.
No one said hello.
No one even looked at me.
Today I had to endure pain all by myself.
No one would have cared if I died or not.
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
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More