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About Deviant Member Synesthi19/Female/United States Group :iconspreading-awareness: Spreading-Awareness
Because the world needs to know.
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Poetry Book Scribble Icon OFFICIAL by DrippingWords

First off, this is my first critique, so the use of the stars was somewhat arbitrary. I'll try to be more specific in the body. Vision:...

Groups

WHAT

NO

HOW DO I

NEVER MIND.

SLEEP?

NO.

NEVER.

Pfffffffffttt

ZZZzzzz


~
Translation: 
Back at college. Unable to currently manage life. Working on it. 
Talk soon!

~S

Activity


Once upon a time in a
story book with
the last page torn out….

There was a tower made of
brick and stone and
bones and
coat hangers laid sideways and
the wrong side of an eraser.

The tower was lonely and
ate them up like
fire.

That was yesterday.

Now the air is cold and
the ground is hard.

And soot, soot like ash,
ash like tears in the air.
The tower burnt in
parchment scraps and
we're on the past page.

That's tomorrow.

And I will be today,
wring its neck like
washcloths full of blood and
I hate it
it hurts me

and get kicked back
on the ground because
yesterday isn't over yet.

I'm running out of
paper, this is
my last page.

And the ink will be
fire, be blood.
You'll see it tomorrow.
But because I can,
I will burn today.
The bricks will be called down
above me like stones lifted
before a storm

and I must tie my shoelaces
to the table to keep from
standing with the
yank-tug of my legs against an
oblivion without a carpet

so says the prophet

There is rust in my elbows
and in my throat and
the voices will cry out into
the night like sadness-gone
iambic

The oval in my hand is sanity
gone wild, and if I stare
long enough it opens its eyes
and looks at me
I am as you should be
and I close my eyes
and pray

so says the prophet

The world is tip-toe
on the edge of a mistake,

I am one coin-flip from
reversal, we go spinning
back in time

and maybe it is better that way.

They all are shadows dressed up
in ripped jeans and confidence
and they will tear me up
with nails made of circles

so says the prophet

We are all tubes
and the containers on the desk
hold me,
but one day I will break

so says the prophet

so says me
I’d like to be awake
for a while today but,
that’s a little much to ask.

As I lie between sheets and
undercooked dreams
I feel the embers inside me
and try to unzip my ribs
with blunted fingernails.

I try to be as you are
when you take me by the shoulders
and tell me I’m real but

I’m still not here when I
climb over the balcony edge
in an attempt to find what has been
dropped.

As my thoughts wander and
tangle in my hair I want to say
that I am drowning
but the feel of the ground on
my bare feet is too much to say I’m
right.

But it’s not enough to say I’m
wrong.

I go mad most days by noon and
stick my teardrops to cinderblocks
and try to believe you when you say
I was a good idea.

Small pills slip through the hourglass
and as I wake up long after
the sun sets I want to tell you that
I’m here now
and even though we both smell
the smoke,
I want to laugh because
if I must be on fire,
let me burn.


But the pills slide down
like ships off to war they
put me asleep as I lie awake
and
as I burn down to embers without
tears enough to extinguish them
I beg this world to please, please
just let me wake up tomorrow.
I’d like to believe
the scars on my hands and
the stars in the sky
were brothers once.

I’d like to believe that
there is night
and day
and sometimes, if I’m lucky
it isn’t both at once.

There’s a plastic bag full of stardust
like those people carry drugs,
close to the heart,
closer to the bones.

And she always said I’d be like them.
Lost and desperate,

and so the stardust is in the river.

This is my story,
you get pencil, and I get ink.
And the stars are mine forever.


I’ve been lost before.

They say time is cycles,
that there is day, and
there is night, and day again

but you’re lying.
They put a clock in the wall
and said time-passes,
everything-ends-sometime
but I’m still lost.

Maybe we’re all lost together.
That’d be a nice thing to think.

But we all know I don’t believe it,
we all know because I’m
crazy-dangerous,
and while we’re all in this together

I’m lost far enough to hear
the sigh of relief.

We’re all lost together.
Except they let me
get separated.

No one gets left behind
is for people who count
as ‘one’.


I will wander among
the stars.

The sky is
the biggest-thing-forever
and it’s also the most
personal.

I stand two-foot lost
and one-voice lonely

but the stars can’t
ignore me.
I think I’ll be a star
soon.


Y-o-u impersonal
(because we’re all
not stars today)
used to like
the moonlight

and y-o-u, (remember)
you tried to fill your mug
with moonlight,
but there was too little,
or maybe there was just too much.

Dumped down the drain.


Now I’m a star, I’ll drown
in forever (who’s name is
tomorrow-today)

And years ago in yesterday
I watched stars sink in the lake,
which was a lie, because
there was no line between
real and solid.

And the flashlights were lanterns
and the shooting star sunk
deep below where the sea monsters go,
deep,
and I jumped off the pier to find it
and lied, you know,

I said I slipped.

Now-yesterday I’m sinking
into forever.


There has been day
and night again

and there has been dark
and there has been light

and I have drowned-drowning
here like tomorrow, now like
yesterday

but it’s funny,
the stars fell,
and they were faces.

They helped me put stars
on my ceiling

but this time I wrote the constellations.
At the Crossroad between Never and Always
I like stars.

Arbitrary bonus points if you get either the references or what the title refers to.
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The world was warm when I was born.
A big, wet-warm world,
and I was small.

Mom told me I’d grow
into it, but maybe
it was wishful thinking or maybe
I fell short.

It was cold sometimes, and wet,
and it rained down on me
and I yelled sometimes (or wanted to),
tried not to cry sometimes (but always did).
But I was warm.

Used to press my hands on my mouth,
cold hands (he said warm heart)
to keep it in.

I was a well-kept secret,
stones along the bottom of the river.
Had crazy eyes, you know,
but damn it, I kept warm.

~~~

They say it’s hot out there
but I’m cold
freezing like I never was.

Grandpa took me swimming
in December once and
Oh, oh, cold!
blue lips and sharp teeth,
leap-run, shriek
and cold, cold, cold!

but I’ve never been cold like this.

They say it’s hot,
they say summer-is-too-long
but it is winter here,
no snow,
just cold.

I want to swallow the sun,
put it back in me
and cover my mouth
and be safe, and small,
and warm-wet growing

but they don’t like it
when I sit on the balcony edge.

She thinks there’s plenty
of ground,
but I see ice,
it’s all winter to me.

---

I was stones under the river,
but someone stubbed their toe
and blamed me.

Now I’m best-kept-secret
behind curtains and silence
and I cup my hands over my mouth
not to keep warm in,
but to keep the cold away from them.

They don’t like it any more than me,
but they see sun, they leave.

If I’m good, maybe I can come out,
enjoy the sun too,
someday.

____

Sit in a solitary-confinement icebox,
don’t mind me.

Breathe through my fingers and
jack-knife chills
and don’t-mind-me, I’m fine,

Don’t mind me, just the breeze,
(get me out, don’t let me freeze)
How are you enjoying the weather
(talk to me, talk to me, talk to me!)
No, just a little cold
(please help me)

December-in-summer is all,
don’t mind me,
I’m just a little cold.
I, December
Been working on this for a while, but finally got it done.
Loading...

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Synesthi's Profile Picture
Synesthi
United States
I am a Synesthete (the term for someone who has synesthesia) and enjoy writing (prose and poetry), long-distance running, and playing music. My username is another (less formal) term for someone with synesthesia.
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:iconcopper9lives:
copper9lives Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
:wave: Hello, and welcome to :iconpoetryparadise:!

We're happy to have you aboard! If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please :note: the group and your friendly neighborhood admins will get back to you ASAP.

Currently, we're hosting a monthly contest — check it out!

:heart:
Copper
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:iconnightshade-keyblade:
nightshade-keyblade Featured By Owner May 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:iconhappybirthdaysignplz:
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:iconsynesthi:
Synesthi Featured By Owner May 23, 2014
Thanks!
Reply
:iconedges-to-everything:
Edges-to-Everything Featured By Owner May 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
A very Happy Birthday to you! :nod:

- Michael
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:iconsynesthi:
Synesthi Featured By Owner May 23, 2014
Thanks!
Reply
:icon91816119:
91816119 Featured By Owner May 23, 2014   Writer
Happy birthday, sweetie! Have a fantastic day, and a fantastic year. :heart:

:cake:
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:iconsynesthi:
Synesthi Featured By Owner May 23, 2014
Thanks!
Reply
:iconhopeburnsblue:
hopeburnsblue Featured By Owner May 11, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Meghan, I found your lines in GITM, and now I must admit I'm not crying but I'm not *not crying ... lol. I found it so touching what you wrote about my voice, and the reiterations that I don't need my eyes to heal, or create art, or live a fulfilling life, definitely link up with your opening and closing remarks in the recording you sent me. This means a lot ... thank you so much. :iconheartglompplz:
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:iconsynesthi:
Synesthi Featured By Owner May 11, 2014
I'm glad. And you're so welcome.

:iconheartglompplz:
Reply
:iconedges-to-everything:
Edges-to-Everything Featured By Owner May 2, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hello! :handshake:

I'd love to get your feedback on the changes being made at Spreading-Awareness :nod: Thanks!

- Michael
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