Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

literature

sleepwalking through a haircut

Deviation Actions

ChloroformBoy

Published: Sep 30, 2009

1.1K Views

Literature Text

long live the viruses!
they're seeping through our skin,
convincing us that our lives are lies,
that cats choke on furballs eight/ninths of the time;
it is better to be shaven than deprived of integrity,
especially when hats only suffocate you.

snoring beards make good excuses, right honey?

the barbershop will only hold you for so long
until the candycane poles impale your intestines.

the embroidered cartoons, faking gymnastics,
they're polevaulting loyalty with stolen staffs,
stagediving through crowded hospital rooms
where hard-working acrobats train for the Olympics.

bald imps are getting haircuts for unerred trials,
going to beauty salons for lessons in shenanigans,
renting flightless airplanes during world war nineteen.

[epidemics can't be killed]

this

coma

isn't

over

yet.

More by ChloroformBoy

Literature

pocket rockets

the ace up your sleeve is a wine red heart hand exposed to all players (a hand i wish to hold) cupid’s casino is rigged yet in wagers of romance, you go all in–i fold my arms & stuff your heart with dollar bills just to break even (jackpot: three withered roses in a row) i wear a spade on my sleeve a former heart charred nicotine, soiled by the plaque of the past (historians hate this) i keep a quilt of used condoms bandaged over the hips of my heart: a makeshift mask (kiss me on my poker face) i think: if i keep trying eventually you will love me. this is the gambler’s fallacy (see also: insanity) we are both such addicts for heartbreak. - (my ribcage weighed down by broken horseshoes until my bones shatter & collapse like a house of cards) –they say a rabbit’s foot is lucky but the tortoise won’t accommodate the amputated hare –they say 7 is lucky, but who ever heard of a 13 year itch? –they say four-leaf clovers are lucky but not when playing nature’s roulette 1) loves

Recommended Literature

Literature

plans

I want to move to Miami sip Cuban coffee scream love at the rafters make this the beginning of every new poem I want to paint a portrait of a man covered in rabbits I will call it 'man covered in rabbits' (it will revolutionize the art world) I want to want to need to breathe and leave things be when I believe I need the things I want before they're leaving

Literature

chasing a breeze.

you are reminiscent of wind. silent, maybe a ghost until you're screaming through the cracks. i am silent as the weight of you breaks me, like a power line that's lost its magic. you were always hard to handle, almost impossible to contain, we have more chance of catching a breeze than tying you down. i jumped, parachute in hand, and watched the colors of the world fall with me, spinning and diving. i prayed for you to fill my parachute and keep me from crashing, but you never did. the colours blended into one shade of red as i hurtled to oblivion and you chose just the right moment to be silent. i'm left empty, holl

Literature

nineninenine.

I. We ought to call you an ambulance, my dear; it's my heart that needs the operation, but your personality has been amputated without anaesthetic. Do you remember the days where we stood still and counted the stars as they shone redyellowbluewhite? Those days are gone now, and we never finished counting those combusting balls of fire. I... I... You're a cancerous tissue, weaving your way into lifedeath and hopefear. Yes, you certainly left your mark. You ate my heart from the inside out. I always said you belonged to the sky. Those disappeared days, I pointed out our home in the universe, and I like to think that's

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

dear self,

1. tomorrow is not worth waiting for. sure, there will be sunshine (with a slight chance of rain) and sure, some kid will be smiling, and yes, life is still moving on, but it's not like anyone cares. 2. you just want someone to love you, misery and tears and all. maybe you could spend saturdays curled up under the covers, memorizing the patterns of breathing. maybe you could count the seconds but the problem is that there would never be enough, the problem is that there's nothing there to love. 3. no one is listening. 4. i'd write you a letter, but you'd never read it. i'm stuck screaming into my own heart, wonderin

Literature

confessions of lostwithoutyou.

i'm not a liar. but i never told you that you always looked best in black. i liked how your skin would fade to a paler shade of perfection and your perfect teeth would glint a little brighter. and i could pretend for an evening that you were my black and white dream come true. and with you there would be no shades of inbetweens and no grays for us to get lost in. i never told you but it's true.   + i was never able to tell you, but i hate the way you cook your 'specialty' eggs. you always laughed over your shoulder and told me that they are the best food i’ll ever eat, that i was blessed to get the chance to taste them melt

Literature

paint.

i told you that i liked boys who smoked cigarettes, because then i knew that they needed something. i told you that i liked roses without the thorns, because then they wouldnt hurt so much when they got picked. i told you that i liked it when you held my hands because i didnt feel quite so lonely, not quite. i told you that i'd love you 'til the stars exploded and the clouds devoured us- and you said nothing. you said nothing. *** (here's a little history.) in vietnam people hurt other people. people burned themselves- (i wish i was that brave.) they threw chemicals and hid in the ground and laughed when the others cried. its

Poetry

Literature

you.

I'd say you remind me of a flower but to do so would be an injustice when I pick flowers, they die- you've only shown me how to live.

Literature

Je t'aime

There is firewood where my bones should be, and wires in my veins pumping electricity and everytime we talk my heart heats up and I've never felt a flame this warm.

Literature

first kiss

I will be the rolling waves, and you can be the sandy shore I'll kiss with salty lips, and then keep coming back for more

Poetry and Writing

Literature

Closer

too close to see, you are too close to me, an eclipsing gaze, all arms across us, i wouldn't leave, if i could go but you know this - you knew of love once you want to know again, you try to kiss me, as if drawing love out, and breathing love in, die again and again, you'd rather, than death you've almost known, too close for comfort

Literature

Not For Me, For You

not for me to feel - nothing as far as i can see, nothing close to me, my heart is deeper under, the black wells of forget, tears are the only stars i see, why do stars burn to live dreams are mute walls; sky is lost to a vapor moon - i drift, not forever is a veil i will wear to cover me from the absence of myself; i will hide behind the anonymity of trees, for you to feel left behind

Literature

She Dances With Fire

She dances with fire, a dragon in tow. Twirling with flames; graceful and slow She dances tonight, in a city of ash. Her feet leaving footprints, where the sand will splash. Quietly mourning, as time goes by; Where once she beheld a home in her eyes... Yet naught but the barest of bones remain, And so she dances, to soothe the pain.

beyond pissed today.
variety of reasons.
ignore this verbal cirrhosis;
it actually does not make sense.

bleh.

i feel like my style is changing because either
a) i'm too lazy
or
b) i'm too apathetic

also, i'm slacking on messages . . .
=/

--

fuck.