Any day now…
The rug will be pulled out from under my feet and I'll be left in an alley with bloody knees
and no lips to kiss them and make them better.
In my world, consonance leads to dissonance;
it's just the mode of my cantus firmus.
Unchangeable, unstoppable it just keeps rolling on,
colliding with other counterpoints that never quite seem to fit right.
Except yours.
Together, our harmonies were the most beautiful and rare in all the world.
Scholars, musicians and love makers were bewildered by the nature of our songs and syncopations.
Any day now...
Till then, i'll lightly hum our broken, dissonant tune.
I feel like falling but I can't find the ground.
I feel like crying but there's people all around.
Dizziness.
Vomit.
Friends I'll never know.
Fakers act concerned telling me to take it slow.
I can't see the sky through this drunken hazy view.
Every song I dance to somehow brings me back to you.
These nights they keep me ((moving)), keep me coming back for more,
Before I s t u m ble home and dream of you and hit the
floor.
these hours hold me captive by found1breathing, literature
Literature
these hours hold me captive
12 am and my head turns on it's side thinking of you. I hope this sleep will dull the pain in my ribs that's been swelling like a big black tumor since that day. That day you disappeared from my life and the night sky changed to a darker shade of black.
No such luck. No such luck. You find yourself into my dreams and I wake up in cold sweat wishing you were lying right here beside me.
Is it too late to get high? Is it too late to get high right now?
Wondering how I managed to keep everyone in this world off of my skin then you came along and so easy. So easy. You permanently imprinted your initials on the back of my heart. So easy. The mo
in my world of brown and green by found1breathing, literature
Literature
in my world of brown and green
My eye longs to stare at this blade of grass
and examine it and become familiar with it
but the orange cone in the corner of my eye
screams at me begging for attention
that never belonged to it in the first place.
In the same way your brightly col
We could all learn a little something from the dogs. They go on their walks and branch out at the first bitch that looks worth getting to play with.
I stopped and smiled. Then you saw me and I knew it. So I changed directions and kept walking.
Am I someone worth getting to play with? Feet are not meant for shuffling.
I shoved common courtesy down your throat as I choked on my own politeness and glanced at my watch.
All you did was look me in the eyes and care. like a grown man.
All I did was stare at the sky and lie. like a scared little girl.
Sure I miss you. If you only knew.
I miss you when I brush my teeth,
when I shake a strangers hand and wonder if they possess any of your qualities (even the bad ones).
I feel like I've already lost you. Like you
wrote
me
off
when we said that goodbye (or didn't say it at all).
You have placed me in a cardboard box, marked me as a "silly stupid pastime".
--Next--
You're going to put me up in your attic where I will rapidly collect dustbeforeyouknowit you will have forgotten how to spell my name.
You are my number 2. That's how I know that no song will ever sound the same as it did that month.
Just not qui
your smell. a mix of marijuana and cheap whine.
your breath. horrible tasting from your lack of self-respect.
your feet. small and funny like your mother's.
your clothes. stolen from thrift stores.
your ears. pierced with holes you got with friends thinking it would bring you closer together.
your eyebrows. bushy and unkempt like the words from your mouth.
your arms. scarred from moments of self-hatred and desperation.
your hands. awkwardly crowded with jewelry that doesn't fit.
your eyes. the truest shade of hazel, that sum up every little thing about you that can s
you were the contradiction between
warm wool jackets and Nazi eyes,
the one that called me sweetheart
and surveyed the rotten apple of my body,
pausing here and there to bite, to bruise.
the one that incessantly called me beautiful,
as if the words could cancel out the fact
that I was a bundle of rough, swollen skin.
the one that saw my shaking,
those awful tremors of simple love,
and never made sound.
Current Residence: Nola Favourite genre of music: EVERY kind... im eclectic Favourite photographer: oooh wayy too many to pick just one Favourite style of art: dark art (photography or photo manipulations) and some poetry Operating System: dell MP3 player of choice: ipod Favourite cartoon character: anything by tim burton he is an effing genius Personal Quote: hidden cracks dont show but constantly just grow
Favourite Visual Artist
Elliott Smith
Favourite Movies
fight club, the royal tennenbaums, eternal sunshine, party monster, the virgin suicides, zoolander
i just wanted to say a few things.
- hello my name is shep
- i am not a photographer.
- i take pictures for fun sometimes though.
- a lot of my pictures are self-portraits
- this is not because i am "incredibly vain"
- i just dont feel experienced enough to get real models.
- not all my pictures are of myself.
- some are close friends.
- a lot of my pictures are digitally edited.
- i have fun with filters... sometimes too much fun.
- again, i am not a photographer.
just to clear up some confusion. anyways... send me a note sometimes if you feel the urge. i dont bite. see you around.
xo, shep
EVERYONE should go look at my favorites. these peices are some of the most beautiful pieces on deviantart. and you can trust me because i am very picky and won't add just any old art. i love just browsing through my favorites. chances are you'll add some of them as ur favs too if you have ANY taste. hah. okay. so... there's my favorites plug. byez. :batty:
I came confused and left sore and tired..... what was this time? The black and white solids ment nothing. an orange appostaphy will do. back to scrubbing the floors......
who the fuck are you and what fucking buisness do you have leaving retarted supposed-to-be-meaningful comments on my page to make yourself feel better?