50% off for a limited time!

Get Core

Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

Get Help and Send Feedback

literature

apocalyptical starshine

Deviation Actions

maniasdoor

Published: Mar 27, 2009

405 Views

Literature Text

i want to capture
the stars in your irises
and place them in
the hole in my chest
so i'll have remnants
of you when you leave
me in this wasteland.
[among the tyrants that
ripped out my heart
with filthy hands.]

i've always hoped
you'd be with me
through the approaching
apocalypse, holding me
close among burning
skyscrapers and falling
bridges until we are
gone, tumbling into
the fantasy we have
always dreamt of.
[a place where our
laughter obliterates
everything, and our
blue eyes shimmer in
the colored lights as
harlequin tears run
down our cheeks.]

we could ride an
elevator in the middle
of nowhere to the top
of the sky, two broken
kids who never had a
chance to grasp the stars.
i am nothing without you,
and it's apparent in the way
i sleep just to see your face
behind my eyelids.
[please don't leave me
to face this war alone.]

More by maniasdoor

Literature

eva

my name is eva. - i am thirteen years young, and i'm a mess of paper cut skin and poorly applied makeup. i live in a house with a hole in the roof that gives me a view of the stars each night, and i converse with each and every one of them, for i've known them my whole life. - in my spare time, i like to watch isaiah wait at the bus stop, cigarette dangling between his insect-leg fingers, and pray he won't notice. isaiah is the boy that i couldn't take my eyes off of since the day i first saw him in the schoolyard, writing obscenities over the paintings the younger children did of zoo animals and rainbows and lollipops. - sometimes, i

Recommended Literature

Literature

Bipolar

Too young to grow up Too old to be a child These feelings pent up For more than awhile… Too quiet to be noticed Too loud to be ignored With all in this life How can I be bored? Too thoughtful to give up Too selfish to care How much more of this pain Can my poor soul bare? Too blessed to be abused Too violated to feel free How in the world Could all of this happen to me? Too united to be missing Too lonely to be found I barely know what Makes my world go round… Too happy to ignore Too troubled to acknowledge How did I end up this way With all of my knowledge? Too creative to be ordinary Too dull to be unique… All of t

Literature

Depression

Lay down your right to be human. Put on a dazzling smile so that no one can see your pain. You hide it all so well, but underneath your shirt you can still feel the scars. No one knows what it is like to be you. Your smile is but one in a billion, A mask that you wear to ward off the questions. Your scars are your war paint, But this is a losing battle. You are sent to face the demons all alone, though they will never leave your side. So keep that pretty smile steady, And don't let one tear drop from those stormy eyes. Put on your war paint and go out into the world, where your smile makes you just like them.

Literature

Bipolar

Every day, wake up and take a pill So you don't go looking for lethal thrills. Haven't you ever wanted to go to the brink Of destruction, just to see if you'd sink Into the clutches of death or if you'd survive Just because God still wants you alive? You live on time stolen not borrowed From some intangible thing called tomorrow. Forget that white, round pill stamped 1-4-2 And you'll realize how much you can do If only they would let you try To jump off, spread your wings, and fly. But even with the meds in your system, You still aren't without symptoms. Your working memory abilities Are poor enough to come to futility. Ima

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

borderlines.

i watch you tread gently on the edges of yourself, remaining in the penumbra between all and nothing - a sub-atomic mystery unable to be solved. yesterday, you couldn't decide whether to fuse or fold back together and instead curled inward underneath your own spine like a rose crushed in a fist, only the fist forgot to show up and roses don't grow in hospitals. some days, love, you are almost radioactive enough to be a half-life. i think this is the saddest thing of all because on those days i find myself believing you might just make it.

Literature

Love or Homicide

She watches her children struggle through the pain, Fully aware their efforts are in vain. Twice in her life, with no amount of ease, She witnessed a death by this horrid disease. The mother tried her best to comfort and pray As her loved ones worsened with each passing day. The years drag on with no end in sight. Her mind starts a war over what's wrong and what's right As she recalls the pleas they made in the past, Begging for her to make that day their last. Now, she resolves, their attempts won't be vain. She'll free her children of the increasing pain. Two shots bring them peace and ends their ordeal While their mother gain

Literature

Bulimia

And she's unfurled string In the closet room, A red dress against A black-and-white world. She's crying butter tears As she tries to be sugar-free And extra light, Feather lips and feather fingers. She bubble wraps her ribs To insulate her heart, Trying to keep something in As she forces everything else out. She's got a bucket full of words on her bedside, Vomiting poetry at the dead of night, Throwing up angry words and monsters, Clawing their way up her throat. And she's spilt acid On the bathroom floor, Fingers in her mouth and nails against her neck She can't stop retching secrets.

poetry

Literature

The Bus Stop Dialogues

I. A young man at the bus stop turns to me and softly asks "Why aren't you wearing shoes?" He taps the faded leather of his suedo-skin and his eyes smile in a gentle lilt before his mouth does. I tell him that I like to feel the earth breathe. That textures keep my mind alive and ticking like a clock. I tell him that I'm trying to grow roots so my pale limbs can twist into a tree (the way L and I talked about it in therapy). I tell him that my soul is lonely and the ground is the only thing that's always there. I tell him that bare skin is sensitive and stroking it with every (twelfth) step is a soothing form of self-care

Literature

Schizophrenia

Voices whisper in your ear; Sweetest nothings, greatest fears. All your life your friend is there, Waiting with a tale to share. Threats are blown into the air, Ever present, meant to scare. Someone tails your every move; A hidden fiend, free to rove. Disembodied voices say: Never dare to disobey. Your friend arrives with a grin, A plan in mind, a great sin. Trembling grips your paling hand. Someone whispers their command. Terrified, you call to me, Hoping I can set you free. But as you point out your friend, Wishing that this all would end, My answer renews your fear: I see no one standing there.

Literature

Schizophrenia

Holding on to a thought has always been... difficult for me. They're so rarely interesting enough to hold my attention for more than a few seconds. Quite often, I'll tune out what someone is saying because something they said sparks a thought which leads to another thought which leads to another thought... No, I don't get distracted by shiny objects. I'm a human, not a magpie. I never really cared that I wasn't listening to what people were saying. My thoughts, as cascading as they are, were always more interesting than they were. Eventually, I did away with people entirely, living in my own stream of consciousness. Even now, it is difficul

Literature

How To Be Normal

HOW TO SUCCEED AT BEING A NORMAL TEENAGER: (In 15 easy steps!) 1. The first step in becoming a normal, bland, and spineless individual is very simple. Never think. About anything. Ever. If you have a thought, let it go. Let someone else think for you. Thinking is hard. Let someone else do it. Save your little conformist brain cells for something less difficult. 2. Now let's talk about music. You like unique music? Not anymore! You get to listen to the same generic, repetitive sound that everyone else does. You know, that one beat over and over with the words "Yeah", "baby" and "ooh" being repeated. Lucky you! 3. To be normal, you've gotta

Literature

Lovesick Fool

I was not in love Love is for fools I hate the word I haven’t seen you in years And dare I admit, I miss you I’ve downed bottle after bottle, Taken pill after pill, I still can’t sleep I can’t stand waking up Without you here, yet, I still look for you I search everywhere But you are nowhere to be found I think I would rather be dead I never thought you’d leave me alone You still haunt me here I see you everywhere but I can’t ever find you And I don’t know why but I feel like a lovesick fool Without the love

Literature

Too Late

The ceiling above, And walls around. The ground below, And nothing more. But it's far too loud. The room sways And sits. In its center lays a figure, A figure nothing more but A shell of one who has lost its view. It screams and thrashes. Aches and cries. Begs and kills. And bleeds out. But nothing happens. It is just there. Alone Lost And forgotten Forgotten by itself. For who knew him, It destroyed With nothing more But passion. Its life tumbled away, And fell six feet under ground In the body of a pretty redheaded, Green-eyed lamb And who has it to blame? No one but itself. Or rather, the body of him. He who cared so much, He car

More by maniasdoor

maniasdoor on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/maniasdoor/art/Naivety-99825508maniasdoor

maniasdoor on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/maniasdoor/art/Blissful-Ignorance-99825192maniasdoor

maniasdoor on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/maniasdoor/art/Yearning-For-Beauty-99825843maniasdoor

This is the first poem I've written in several days.
I'm going through some pretty horrible writer's block right now, and nothing I write turns out very good.
But if you happen to like it, comment away!
And no, I'm not capitalizing it.

Oh, and the title sucks because I can't think of ANYTHING creative to call it. So if anyone has any ideas, do not hesitate to inform me of them.