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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
July 23, 2014
[transmissions of a dead girl] by crimsonletters conveys a stark hollowness and deep sadness within images that are normally romanticized.
Featured by inknalcohol
Suggested by BlackBowfin
Literature Text
i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
descending
down
your throat
to weigh down
lashes
into leaden eyes--
i am the
moon: lover
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
twinkling dance--
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of their
secrets.
you're alright.
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
rues)
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
pearl,
looking dead--
and dead altogether,
i still die.
Literature
we shouldn't be so afraid of death
i waited for death to wrap his
frail hands around my neck and
feed me to the unknown
but he just took my hand, fingers
laced between my own
and smiled
Literature
Dead Zone
We met on an art website—you, me, and the Sprout.
Thing is, the Sprout and I didn't really care about art. Only you did. But when I looked online for a school art project and found you two bickering about something pointless in the comments of a picture that had nothing to do with any of us, I signed up for the site solely for the purpose of telling you two to shut up and take it to someone who cares.
So you sent me your Skype contact.
I expected you to start the conversation with arguments or even flirtation, but instead you just asked me how my day had been, as if we'd always been friends and you were just greeting me on a lone
Literature
longing
i scuff at sidewalk bottle caps,
mouthing your name as i pass shriveled milkweed stalks and snuffed-out cigarettes.
once, the clock hands pointed north. they mock me now with each degree elapsed,
each angle pointing to a slew of compass-rose regrets.
mouthing your name as i pass shriveled milkweed stalks and snuffed-out cigarettes,
i hear the second hand’s advance tally my silences like rosary beads,
each angle pointing to a slew of compass-rose regrets.
if only i could pull your name from this unmerciful stampede!
i hear the second hand’s advance tally my silences like rosary beads.
every dull tock measures out those quinine
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Have you ever wondered why the moon was so lonely? Many years ago, the moon had a lover. His name was Coacuatchoo. But there was a third spirit that longed for the moon, he was a trickster. So, one day the trickster tells Coacuatchoo that the Moon asked for flowers from our world and to go and pick some red roses, so he did. But, what Coacuatchoo didn't know, is that once you leave the spirit realm, you can never go back. So he forever roams the land, howling to his lost love night after night.
A story summed by the wonderful pearl gorgeousness, Lynn Collins.
A story summed by the wonderful pearl gorgeousness, Lynn Collins.