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A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1chapter four
“is astrid your girlfriend?” keillan asked me unexpectedly at our breakfast. i nearly choked on my chocolate milk.
“what the heck, kiddo?” i tried to laugh but it just came out really uncomfortable sounding. “of course she isn’t.”
“well, was she?” his insight never ceased to amaze me. his eyes were large and intent, as if he’d thought about this for a long time.
“what even would make you think that, keillan?” i appeared composed. it was still way too soon for me to answer questions about astrid. “you’ve known me your whole life. that’s the most peculiar thing to ever come out of your mouth.” i was avoiding eye contact. keillan’s got this way of making you feel totally at ease with even the most uncomfortable of topics. i guess it’s a good trait to have.
“okay, you guys are always talking about
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1Chapter Three
The only person that was at home when I arrived back was my sister Brinley, a spoiled fifteen-year-old with a penchant for making my life miserable. She was lying on the sofa Daisy Buchanan-style, sprawled lazily reading a fashion magazine.
“You’re home late,” she grumbled, not even having the decency to lift her eyes from the gossip column. “How was your drunken rave last night?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, a smirk on her lips. She genuinely repulsed me.
“You didn’t,” I spat gruffly in her direction, wide-eyes full of anger. “You did not see anything.” I was terrified, not that she had seen, but that she had shown our parents.
“Au contraire, my dear sister,” she chuckled nonchalantly. “I especially liked the one of you smashing a beer bottle into Mrs. McCartney’s heirloom china vase.”
“Brin, you wouldn’t dare,
fresh.don't look at me.
every time you do i see her.
you look just like her, but
shorter thinner sweeter
younger. you are so much younger.
you're nowhere near as naive.
innocent is not in your expansive
vocabulary. your voice is both
agonizing and intoxicating.
we used to lie next to each
other, hold hands and harmonize.
you held me when i cried
and laughed at my cheesy jokes.
now you have gone. you don't
even speak to me, no choral context.
but you look at me. and you smile.
and you make me feel so fresh,
don't ever leave my side.
a memoir of a butterfly.her memory is like a dead mockingbird.
something so beautiful, but remnants
scatter in the wind, unable to
comprehend whether it was deserved
perishing or a mistake.
will you remember in twenty
years, or twenty months, twenty
goddamn seconds, or will she
fade like the fluttering feathers
of the bird shot down in anguish?
can you kiss yourself goodnight
because her butterflies will never
again land on your fleshy lips?
laugh to keep from crying, cry
to keep for being numb,
pretending her presence was
that of a ghost inside a dream.
cover your wrists in gauze and
guilt to prevent moral infection,
feign disinterest when she bites
her lips, don't crave to be the
one biting back, because you'll
only be chewing yourself out.
don't look directly at her, she
is a sapphic eclipse, tease
me with your sloping neck,
tease me with your impeccable
jawline, hazel eyes and
crooked nose, a sweet breathiness
achieved by her trembling,
raspy alto, how i want to
press my mouth to hers and utter
the cure for romantic epilepsy is you.lighthearted heartthrobs
leave me tenderhearted for
the moment, callously discarded
when the brokenhearted relapses
occur and my heartache is just
a simple subtraction amongst
the breakage and blood pumping.
can you heal me? can you heal you?
do you know how to divide me
into the good, the bad, and the
parts that get too clingy?
can you tell me what it is
that keeps you clinging?
your body is like a metronome,
and i just want to move
to your tempo, you envelope
me with your beautiful
lyricism and lips like a rose.
hands hold like roping soliloquies
of the what-ifs and what-nows,
they're clenching like we're
on a roller coaster and i just
want to hold on to you, if
i could kiss you would i be
considered lucky or a casualty?
i want to peruse the inky pages
of your loitered soul, picking
up the pieces because something
as beautiful as you doesn't
deserve to be littered.
all i want you to do is stand
near me, not even next to me,
because the glow of your glower
is gorgeous even in your mos
drowned.this ice is getting thinner
and i keep feeling like i'm
about to fall through. i just
wanted you to envelope me in
your harmony, sweet kisses
making the syncopation
between broken glass and
heart pieces, shattered
with lips uttering breathlessly.
i wanted to be warmed by
the sound of your melodies,
you told me of my beauties
and i believed you, remember
that my soul is fragile and
that suicide and silence
start and end the same way.
keep in mind when you told
me how much you cared and
how much i hope you realized
at this point the water is
freezing and i can't swim.
love like remission.everybody says that
i'm a specific type. i
think that's just an
excuse to say there's
really no chance i can
ever be loved. keep saying
that i'm beautiful, keep
saying that i'm good.
do you really think i
believe any of that? i'm
trying to turn a new
page, cleanse the wounds
she caused me, and now
i don't know which way
to turn because neither
path is paved for me and
neither door is open. i
wish i could say it was
easy but i can feel it
coming back, steadily like
a creeping animal ready
to pounce on my freshly-
healed heart and soul.
everyone says i have a type.
i believe that in a
heartbeat because each
heart that beats next to
mine is sweet in the melody.
i don't have my choice of
the picking but i can
pretend to be free of this
illness, relapsing on
romanticism and using stoicism
as a crutch, this wall i
put up can be broken down
by whoever's love is strong
enough. someone, take my hand
and lead me through the disease.
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 2.1A Little Bit Like Crazy
my mother always said god worked in mysterious ways, that i was special and that someday i’d find someone who appreciated my crazy.
she died three years ago. i never did find out if that was something sarcastic that she said so i’d laugh during one of my fits or if she genuinely thought i was crazy. astrid never thought that i was crazy. she thinks i’m beautiful. she thinks i’m smart. she doesn’t think that i’m crazy.
i didn’t know that i had something wrong with me until i started to believe it. all of these voices? i can hear exactly what they’re saying about me. and it makes astrid sad to see me sad.
but astrid is not here anymore. i didn’t want her to get too attached to me.
or maybe it was my crazy i didn’t want her to become attached to.
either way, i don’t think that she’ll be back any time soon.
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 1.1A Little Bit Like Crazy
The cool autumn air lingered slowly through the window crack, and the smell of cannabis still lingered on my shirt. Quin had his arms draped around me, this dumb look on his face as he sighed delicately in his sleep. As he pulled me tighter, all I could think about was the mistake that I had made the night prior. One single lapse in judgment had ruined one of the most beautiful relationships I had ever established, and now I was without Saoirse, the one thing that kept me alive in this world.
The whole prior night was a blur to me. I remembered showing up but never leaving, which I must have done since I was not at my house—I was at Quin’s house. His parents were not home, hence the party, and I woke to the sound of his sister Chantal humming some bland Top 40 song while making breakfast, a pleasant albeit off-key alert.
I tossed Quin’s spindly arms off of me and trudged out of his room, making m
I Built A HouseI built a house
Of stone and sweat
Loftily held together
By thousand of memories.
Within my stone stock-hold
Held some piece of me
And I hoped
It would hold you too,
That it would embrace you
And you would see the beauty
To be found in its stony arms
Cracks and crevices.
And though try as I am
This isn't what you see
What your willing to believe.
All you see are stone walls
Surrounding an empty place
Blocking your view of the sea.
I built a house
Of stone and sweat
To hold you close to me,
Meant to be a home
For our hearts with windows
So we could always
View our sea.
But instead I built walls
And a house of stone and sweat
To build you a home.
UnspokenFor the love
I never shared.
For the things
I'll never tell.
For all the secrets
Big and small.
For the times
I ignored the calls.
For all the words
I left unspoken.
I'm now drowning
In my emotions.
The Wasteland Of Your YouthListen to the words that rest easiest in your heart
‘A boy is coming that will change everything
With seven shades of emerald green in his eyes
One kiss from his lips will end your suffering
And he’ll wake you with a whisper from this nightmare
Prising the hands of hindsight from around your throat
While endeavouring to burst these unwanted thought bubbles
Before they have even had a chance to float
He’ll help you prick them with his narcoleptic needle
So you can fall back in to the limbo of your dreams
Where each lake of loathing can lead to endless love
But only through a passage of patience upstream
Take caution though as the resistance of the current
Is akin to the resistance he feels from you
To open those brown eyes that you’ve hidden so safely
Behind the flooded wasteland of your youth
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
μέσα στο χάος του κενού
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
εκεί στο πάτο του βυθού
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
σ' όλα τα αστέρια του ουρανού.
Rub'i of DisillusionYou ask of my health, and my well being -
I smile, reply; for what you are seeing
foreshadows what I am, disillusioned:
What I imagined in you... gone... fleeing
SwaddledWhen born and swaddled in mother's arms
to them our eyes hold infinite possibilities
Our innocence shines but for a sec
Soon stained with sin's misdeeds
We grow and change from who we were
Into ourselves which we now know
Far from the swaddled child, so soon after birth
And far from our parent's goal...
Let It GoTake my pride, mortify me,
show me all the things I did not turn out to be.
Twist the truth, call the lies,
tell me you are satisfied.
Spit in my face, step on my faith,
call back all my forgotten wraith.
Break my skin, draw my blood,
invoke all the demons that i got.
Paint me black, color me white,
show me the shade lurking in the night.
Take my veins, cut them open,
make me realize my blood is frozen.
Offer your shoulder, let me cry,
my body will fall but my soul will fly.
Un-CoupletThere are scissors on the floor;
They could hurt me.
There are baskets by the door;
They are the enemy.
There are claws in my thighs;
I feel them tearing.
There is light that will arise;
I feel it glaring.
There is whispering in my head;
I hear them calling.
There are sharpened pieces of lead;
I hear them falling.
I want to cry; I want to die;
Save me from my own sad lie.
YesterdayI walk along the river
and get to where it turns
but the land cuts off
and the water is too cold
I cannot see what’s on the other side
it makes me think of you
and all the secrets that you hide
Strands fly in the wind
as I stand behind
watching you turn every shell
looking for the most beautiful one.
I can’t help but watch and laugh
because I’ve already found it.
but I bite my lip
and hold it all back.
You cup a bit of water in your hands
watching your reflection ripple
but you just can’t see
everything that I see.
You turn to me and smile
it makes me forget who I am
and just for a moment
I let go, I forget.
Sometimes I feel like I’m floating
and sometimes I feel like I’ll fall.
But what is the difference,
if I never floated at all?
So I’ll take just one second
an infinity in time
to hold you in my arms
and pretend that you are mine.
I Find It Funny That You Can't Look Straight At MeOne step away from
The pain and hurt you caused me,
But I still miss you.
When I'm with others,
I have to divert my eyes
Away from your gaze.
I can't help myself.
You just left me on my last
It doesn't help me
That every time I see you,
I shut up and sigh.
Why don't you be a
Man about it all and tell
Me why you did it?
You led me on, love.
You left me hung out to dry.
You're a coward.
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More