[x]

WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasmines
and stardust mountains of silver and —

No.

Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...

Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.

I want to write

gods

and

chaos.

An Obituary To My ChildhoodDearly beloved; we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a very special and dear friend to all of us...our Childhood.

Childhood. Ah, I remember you as clear as yesterday. You were certainly my truest friend throughout the years--with you, I could do anything. I could be anything.
Do you remember that for every white rabbit you saw, there was a hole with Wonderland awaiting you close by?
Do you remember when those shimmers in the air on a really hot day was actually Tinkerbell, trying to give you some pixie dust?
Do you remember seeing something out of the corner of your eye, and automatically you knew it was something from an enchanted forest just waiting for you to follow?
I do. I remember it all. Back then, imagination was the true form of currency. What are these "checks" and "credit cards" you speak of? All I need to do is think really hard, and I'll have some gold to give you!
But those days are over. We are not allow

lost.Wandering,
waiting for your voice to
reach out for mine.
Fingertips of satin,
caressing the confines of my
soul;
whispering a thousand constellations to my waning sanity.
Promises upon promises,
mosaic labyrinths etched into mutilated
flesh.
Trembling lips — July's blasphemous sun
lingering above December's intangible moon,
and these looking-glass limbs scream for your
tongue to shatter me into one million
pieces.
Rose eyelashes; iron thorns and liquid petals
flutter open to the dull luster of our
salt-licked sarcophagus—
and in the end, your nebula fades away
in the disintegrating morning, just like my [heart] broken
heart.

For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.

The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.

These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
“imaginary”
as long as you know their universes.

Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.

You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words

GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.

Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.

"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."

And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.

Freedom.

Remedial OppositionCease with making promises that you cannot ever keep—
can you not see this loathing becoming even more deep?
Halt in your useless words of comfort, telling me everything will be okay—
how can you say such things so simply, when you are never here day by day?
Refrain from acting as if you can turn my world from bleak to bright—
when was the last time you truly changed every wrong thing to right?

It was such a simple pleasure, back in those days;
just one word from you made gold from the grays.
A luxury it was, I now see that more clear than glass;
for those times are done and gone, having long since passed.
Indulgence was my

.I stare at the screen, waiting for some burst of inspiration to rain upon me like a meteor shower sent straight from the gods of literature heaven.

Nothing.

A sigh escapes my lips, and I haphazardly bash random buttons of the keyboard, watching as the blank document before me is littered with an incoherent placement of characters. The monotone click-clack seems to just resonate with the narcoleptic beating of my heart, further fueling my senseless crusade.

Where has all my writing gone?

It feels like it was just sucked right out of my soul. Ideas constantly plague my mind, yet all I can do is write them down. When I go to type them out, n

Flights of FancyI believe in
the impossible
the childish
the unseen
the absurd
the silly

I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings

I believe in
fairies
dragons
unicorns
spirits
elves

in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought

I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and

HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."

Yet —

She hides behind an ivory mask,
skeleton smiles
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.

Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
smirk.

You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.

For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a thro

Poetry is:Poetry is:

the adhesive to
a fragmented soul;

broken wings that still dream of

F L Y I N G

how snapdragons breathe stardust
and orchids perform ensembles.

when 'imagination' and 'reality' at last discover a
c r o s s r o a d s,
and rush to embrace one another with fervent limbs.

why gravity seems to f
a
l
l, taking the world with it.

what flows through the veins of every pair of [shipwrecked; star-crossed] lovers.

who I am; who I was; and who I want to be.

-My mind
just can't
seem to

s h u t u p.

Too many "fuck you's"
that morph into
"I'm sorry's"
drip off this
dagger-tongue
like acid.

Monster.
Grotesque.
Liar.
Erratic.

Try and make it better. Fail. Try again. Break down.

So many faults
that seem to just
turn me into someone
I'm not.

Look into the mirror. See nothing but a clone. Fabrication. No longer me.

I stare and want
to break that glass
so that I can also
b r e a k.

Try and say something. Turns into nothing but rage. Take it out on you.

This shattered heart
only wants to make it
better
and become one again.

"I want to hate you."
"But I can't."
"So I hate me instead."
"But

Into the PlungeBuild me a sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.

D
r
o

Briar Roseher soul is a rose

scarlet and full of sharp thorns

can she trim the barbs?

It's an unrequited love, isn't it?I know you will never read this.

I know you will never get the chance to even catch a glimpse of this.

But I just want you to know that I love you.

You're perfect to me. I don't care about your flaws. I don't care about the faults that everyone else always seem to point out.

I really don't care.

What matters to me is that you are you. And because you are you, I love you.

I just wish you could love me back.

I just wish you could say the same words to me--to make me believe that I'm not the worthless thing I see in the mirror every day.

I just wish you could be here, comforting me when I need it, and telling me you love me over and over

Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,
poisoning every atom of my soul.

"Bite your tongue," they say.

How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.

They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.

And so I wrote,

"Dear poetry,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."

The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:

"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and mak

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SadieA decade she was there
always watching me grow.

A decade she was there
through sunshine and snow.

A decade to laugh,
a decade to cry,
a decade to watch as her years went by.

Always a smile, never a frown,
she was constantly there whenever I'd turn around.

Wading in muddy rivers, racing through golden fields,
throwing snowballs for treats, catching unsuspecting birds for meals.

She was my protector, she was my friend,
she was my precious companion until the end.

Watching her brightness dim made the tears run dry,
and the limp took away that glorious freedom,
as each stumble and crash made the sobs escalate.

She was cradled in my arms

the meaning of lifeGod is dead. No one knows.

RebirthFalling further down into the
abyss of agony with no way
to go up; and these chains
that bind wrists in iron so
cold that it burns like fire
refuse to shatter; drowning
in tidal waves of chaos and
venomous malevolence.

Give me a blade to cut away these sulfuric bonds at last
and throw me a rope to pull me up out of this hole;
I'm weary of dying inside the coffin they call "the self"
and ready to crawl from the grave in armor woven
from the chains of misery and destruction.

TemporalI am the yesterday waiting for my tomorrow,
and you are the future waiting for your past.

Let us correspond our oscillating hearts,
hidden behind adamantine bastions,
and together we shall fabricate a new

today.

bioluminescence.Your skin is of paper mache and
stardust, so fragile and coruscating
as I reach out desperately to grasp that
supernova you call a heart;
please, don't etiolate in their sunrise
and leave me marooned in life's black abyss...
I can't survive without your—

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24 Hours

by *PrussianPersephone, Jan 29, 2013, 8:56:02 AM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Haiku & Eastern

i.
Dreams will slowly fade
as dawn breaks through the windows;
morning’s here again.

ii.
Stomachs growl and groan
as smells from the kitchen waft;
afternoon is here.

iii.
Dusk paints a red sky,
the sun retires for the night;
evening shall bring peace.

iv.
The stars and moon dance,
a waltz of shining passion;
night has come at last.

24 Hoursby *PrussianPersephone

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Haiku & Eastern

©2013 *PrussianPersephone

Just a dumb little haiku series I wrote for creative writing. I figured I'd upload it here to prove to everyone how much I suck at haikus.

And tankas. I can't write those either.

But creative writing really is a fantastic class for me, since I'm given so many different ways to write as an outlet.

I can't wait until the prose unit. Then maybe I'll actually get around to actual stories instead of fanfictions.

~~love 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

!sherlock-status Jan 30, 2013 Student Writer

I've always hated haikus... They are the bane of my existence...

Reply

*PrussianPersephone Jan 31, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Me too.

Reply

~imagination-junkie Jan 30, 2013

These are fun

I like the first and third one the best.

Reply

*PrussianPersephone Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I like the last one the best. All the others are dumb.

Reply

~CrazyCharlette1415 Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Nice haiku series!

Very thoughtful! I'm pretty sure most of us (if not all) can relate to the third haiku. ^^

Reply

*PrussianPersephone Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I thought it was dumb D:

Reply

~tommyboywood Jan 29, 2013 Professional Writer

Not dumb at all, rather nice

Reply

*PrussianPersephone Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Aha, thanks.

Reply

*GermanyXItaly1000 Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

... wonderful! I love this piece!

Haiku, huh? ... I can never write haiku. I just write in prose.

So I applaud you even more!

Reply

*PrussianPersephone Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

It's so baaaad though. You should see other pieces by people. Good lord they have talent. I'm a wannabe.

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