ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Sleepless nights are psychedelic tricks
where the mind cannot know what it sees
nor see what it knows.
My eyes adjust to the pin points of light
in the dark and I watch as they morph
into your figure—suggestive and fabricated
but real to every extent
of my imagination.
The silence is defeaning
so I whistle your favorite tune
to pacify my heartbeat.
My body aches as the memories come,
like the boxcars of a train
when they speed at night, revealed
only by the moonlight.
These memories I have tried to subdue
but my mind is itself a trainwreck
and I am powerless to the collision
between flashbulb recollections
and power of will.
So I lie in bed, breathing through it all,
until sleep lifts me up
and floats me away.
where the mind cannot know what it sees
nor see what it knows.
My eyes adjust to the pin points of light
in the dark and I watch as they morph
into your figure—suggestive and fabricated
but real to every extent
of my imagination.
The silence is defeaning
so I whistle your favorite tune
to pacify my heartbeat.
My body aches as the memories come,
like the boxcars of a train
when they speed at night, revealed
only by the moonlight.
These memories I have tried to subdue
but my mind is itself a trainwreck
and I am powerless to the collision
between flashbulb recollections
and power of will.
So I lie in bed, breathing through it all,
until sleep lifts me up
and floats me away.
Literature
Restless
I’ve been living in the same breathy dream
for too many days now; I’m bed-ridden and
stale and I reek of those moments that come
full throttle like a car crash on a winter night
this is evolution where weak hearts
are afraid of the shadows and where
everything changes,
an apologetic wind births no remorse;
he will move on—anchored ship
set sail, I am the sunken wreckage
that never learned how to swim.
he will move on, Darwin says
I never had a chance
I wish I were the textbook sadness,
symptom and solution and endurance
but I’ve spent too long sleeping on the
Literature
softened
the sky whispers,
ribbons of crystalline quiet,
same shade as the angel dust
you shivered every time we were
alone.
in the darkness, we were
sorry birds searching for
open dawns. you, the
swan, me, the
raven,
black as night and
just as hopeful.
and there were poems
written in your skin, universes
blooming in your hands; your eyes
were a December sunrise saving me
from any sleep.
I’ve decided that
people are a composition of
all their greatest memories—and you,
you were always the most
beautiful piece of
me.
Literature
Cosmology
She left galaxies on his pillowcase
where she slept the night before
of make up colors,
shimmer, shadow,
smudged and smeared,
blurred by silent tears
- alive...
the stars leaked out with the saline –
along with the residue of dreams
that she never meant to have.
Chips of polish decorate his bed sheets,
rogue satellites
from her chewed and broken nails,
after scratching at the too-low ceiling
and his too-close back
while she slept fitfully,
searching desperately for space.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
I confess, this is an older one. I used to have it on my old account, and then recently I found it and thought, "What the hell?"
© 2013 - 2024 QuirkyCuriousBex
Comments27
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
"-suggestive and fabricated / but real to every extent / of my imagination." You have such a beautiful way of crafting that perfect-heart of yours into lovely, loving words. You should be a painter as well as a poet. I've been to this place myself - so many of us have - thank you for sharing yours 