ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
everyone knows hollywood plays favourites. everything must be cinematic and over-the-top. and we all know that histrionic duo everyone thinks belong together because oh, i don't know, maybe they're adorable when they make out. or something.
we all see them. they're like that perfect western movie: the daring hero whisks the capable damsel off to onceuponatime land, and the jester (the fading character with little or no importance to the main plot) just sits there and takes it like the fool he's scripted to be.
she's the one everyone wants; the one nobody can get. he's the bard, the cowboy, the knight in shining armour. she's the one to complete him; he could complete her. he's willling to change if she's willing to open her arms, her heart. from menageries, to theatres, to each other's cosy homes. now everyone, say awhhhh.
she's reckless and daring: his ideal queen. for her, he'd kill thousands of innocent dragons and ogres, cross a moat of typicality and heartache, overlook the blatantly subtle pities of the fool -- the fool whose words deny and defy the romantic escapades the main characters venture through. these include, but mustn't be limited to: moonlit sonnets, starry picnics, heart-shaped spotlight. happiness. true love. a rooting audience. how cliche.
and nobody remembers the five-seconds of infamy (humiliation) from the comic relief. joke's on him. nobody realises the tragedy masqued by the poor clown's painted smile. the lovers hold hands, while the jester's punchline is six decades stale. the sun sets over the shakesperean balcony over our fairytale superstars. Rapunzel and Prince Charming, or whatever. and no one gives a damn about forged memories or altered personalities; the focus shifts to the fantastical lovers galloping on stallions to some faraway kingdom all their own.
end credits. fade to black. upbeat piano music. fin. everyone (that matters) lives happily-ever-after and all that bullshit. the spectators clap. cheer. a round of applause. a round of tears. not the same reason the jester's crying, though. the jester, remember, (because i know you all forgot) is crying for keeping up his laughable charade. is he happy? maybe he can pretend, but deep down he wishes the screenplay writer selected him as the celebrity. the jealous chump. how pathetic.
how fucking pathetic.
we all see them. they're like that perfect western movie: the daring hero whisks the capable damsel off to onceuponatime land, and the jester (the fading character with little or no importance to the main plot) just sits there and takes it like the fool he's scripted to be.
she's the one everyone wants; the one nobody can get. he's the bard, the cowboy, the knight in shining armour. she's the one to complete him; he could complete her. he's willling to change if she's willing to open her arms, her heart. from menageries, to theatres, to each other's cosy homes. now everyone, say awhhhh.
she's reckless and daring: his ideal queen. for her, he'd kill thousands of innocent dragons and ogres, cross a moat of typicality and heartache, overlook the blatantly subtle pities of the fool -- the fool whose words deny and defy the romantic escapades the main characters venture through. these include, but mustn't be limited to: moonlit sonnets, starry picnics, heart-shaped spotlight. happiness. true love. a rooting audience. how cliche.
and nobody remembers the five-seconds of infamy (humiliation) from the comic relief. joke's on him. nobody realises the tragedy masqued by the poor clown's painted smile. the lovers hold hands, while the jester's punchline is six decades stale. the sun sets over the shakesperean balcony over our fairytale superstars. Rapunzel and Prince Charming, or whatever. and no one gives a damn about forged memories or altered personalities; the focus shifts to the fantastical lovers galloping on stallions to some faraway kingdom all their own.
end credits. fade to black. upbeat piano music. fin. everyone (that matters) lives happily-ever-after and all that bullshit. the spectators clap. cheer. a round of applause. a round of tears. not the same reason the jester's crying, though. the jester, remember, (because i know you all forgot) is crying for keeping up his laughable charade. is he happy? maybe he can pretend, but deep down he wishes the screenplay writer selected him as the celebrity. the jealous chump. how pathetic.
how fucking pathetic.
Literature
give me something poetic.
like the way the grass
sparkles
at dawn. scratch that,
too cliche. say,
shush, close your eyes
see the dawn
then forget. forget
because forgetting
is poetic. remember
your grandmother, sick
in the hospital, saying
the old should be beautiful.
this deserves
remembering.
Literature
I Could
i could laugh forever except
laughter always makes me cry.
i could dance in the rain except
the water drenches my clothes
and makes me cold and wet and
miserable.
i could wish on a star except
it's too far away for the sound to
travel and no one would ever
hear me.
i could try to love you except
i'm too afraid.
Literature
promise to play this on silent
hello
just promise me youre listening.
since once you get used to being ignored for long enough, its nice to pretend that you could be something. that you could say something that matters. and that somewhere, someone is listening. and for now, ill make believe that youll make everything better. that the air will taste like sunshine even though its been raining for days. or that my heart isnt disconnected and that maybe my lips will get the message. or even that for the next two and half minutes youll love me.
ill make believe.
ill make believe you.
ill make believe you c
Suggested Collections
neither will prose.
if you think this is about you, it is.
if you think this is about you, it is.
© 2010 - 2024 ChloroformBoy
Comments107
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
i love this. so incredibly much.
"everyone [that matters] lives happily-ever-after and all that bullshit"
"everyone [that matters] lives happily-ever-after and all that bullshit"